"Not bad," I say, "I prefer Camels."
You nod your head, "I take what I can get."
I hand the cigarette back to you and we sit in silence just a few seconds more. Long enough for both of us to think of something to say. As we both try to start a topic at the same time we stop, look at each other and laugh. "You go first," I say.
"I was going to say you shouldn't hold your breath."
I inhale. "What do you mean?"
"It works much better if you breathe it in." You're looking at your shoes.
"I just--" I don't know what to say. "I don't like smoke."
"You didn't have to lie to me."
I guess I thought I did have to lie. It just wasn't a big deal in my mind. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry," you said, "just be yourself. I like you for you."
"Thanks." My breath catches in my throat, "I was going to say that I really hope we're more than friends." We exchange a look before I continue, "Because with all that we've been through, I just don't think that I could go back to the way things were."
There's silence for what feels like forever.
"Do you remember how we met?" you ask me.
"It was Rocky's birthday and we were all at the bar." I laughed, "I remember."
"I bet you don't remember me staring at you all night," you said, "and how I tried to walk you home."
"No," I said, "I don't remember that at all. I remember you talking to Christina all night until Rocky got totally hammered and you called him a cab. That's when I left."
"I really wanted to walk you home." I can hear the longing in your voice. If you could go back would you have done anything different? Would you have talked to me all night instead?
"I don't regret anything," I say, "I wasn't capable of making any good choices that night anyway."
"At least you didn't make a wrong choice." You're looking down the street as if you can see the ghost of me walking home alone that night. As if you can see the whole event taking place and it is only just out of my line of sight. I wish I could read your mind. I wish you would share what you're thinking with me.
"What if you had walked me home?"
"I would have--" You look at me, think for a moment and then answer, "I would have regretted it."
We don't look at each other for a while. The time passes silently and your cigarette is almost ash. When we finally do look at each other it's you that talks first, "Don't feel like you have to walk on eggshells with me."
"I don't."
