To End All Parties

We fell into another introspective silence. I looked up at him with a silent question on my lips, and when he smiled in response, I leaned against him. The small amount of contact was strikingly intimate; before tonight, we had only exchanged pleasantries while leaving or entering our apartments.

“I’m sure you would’ve lived way longer than me,” he said. 

“It doesn’t matter now.”

“Sure it does. You’re the picture of good health. You’re beautiful. You smell nice. I probably smell, well, like a smoker.”

I shot him a teasing smile. “Lucky for you, I like the smell of tobacco.” Maybe it was the beer or the physical contact, maybe it was the impending doom, but I added, “Ever since I moved into B2, I thought you were pretty hot.” There it was, out in the open.

“Who, me?” Nathan grinned, nudging my shoulder.

“Oh, don’t be humble. There’s no time for that.”

“There’s enough time,” he said. 

There’s enough time. That had to be the most comforting phrase I’d heard all week. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. There’s enough time to be reckless.

I let my gaze wander to his lips. He reached for my cheek. Then before I knew it, we melted into a kiss. He tasted of IPAs and cigarettes and mint. I needed more.

“Time enough for you to see my bedroom? I think I need a distraction.”

Nathan flashed me a devilish look. “I’d be honored to be your distraction.”

“Really?”

He set his beer bottle down and ran his hands up and down my shoulders. “If I could distract you for the rest of the night, I’d be a happy man.”

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