He sucks in a long draw as he pockets the pack and lighter. That keen look reconnects with my gaze just as his lips purse and curve around the filter. It’s a crooked little smile that reaches up to his eyes with layers of hopefulness written there. Subtext I’d recognize from a mile away. The kind of expression I’ve shared with any number of girls late at night, before going on to make terrible goddamn decisions. A question hovering in the subtle tip up at the corner of his lips, one that asks . . . what do you think?
