The cold air was an amazing welcome that offered some solace from the stuffy hot atmosphere inside the club. Her ears rang slightly from the music that was still playing albeit now a bit muted from the outside.
Her gaze scanned the scene, a few groups of people talking – the smoke of their cigarettes mingling with the visible cold breaths. It was nearly Christmas and the temperature had dropped significantly. Not that she was complaining – the alcohol circulating in her body was doing a good job of providing her a sense of warmth.
She walked a few paces forward before taking refuge at the rail, her hands fumbling for the familiar square container. Her fingers quickly pulled out a cigarette, placing it between her lips before resuming her search for a lighter in the seemingly endless pockets of her overall.
“Damn, I could’ve sworn I had it in my pocket.” She muttered irritatedly, the taste of tobacco filling her mouth.
“Need a light?”
Her eyes looked up and she startled at the sight of the tall man. How he had snuck up on her like that without making a sound was beyond her.
“Um yea.”
The guy suddenly leaned forward, his own cigarette between his lips, before he lit hers with his. The act was so unexpected she stood frozen in shock, heat rising to her cheeks and she hoped it was dark enough outside for it to not be visible.
“Thanks” she said as he leaned away. But instead of walking he just nodded and leaned on the railing, letting out a puff of smoke.
Her eyes immediately went to his hand with the action and noticed tattoos that adorned his wrists.
“Staring is rude, you know.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes.
Crap, she had been caught red handed. “I wasn’t staring…” She stammered trying to recover, “I was just admiring… the artwork.”
He let out a quick chuckle “That so?”
She took a slow drag from her cigarette. Then her mind caught on something – the way he spoke.
“Where are you from?”
His brown eyes glanced at her, “What makes you think I’m not from here?”
She shrugged. “You’ve got an accent.”
His lips tugged into a smirk, tapping ash from his cigarette. “Really now?” She rolled her eyes in response. “Well don’t leave me hanging. Where are you from?”
“Manchester.”
“Manchester.” she repeated. “Huh.”
“What?”
“Oh I don’t know, shouldn’t you be drinking tea or something?”
His eyebrows lifted slightly looking as if he hadn’t heard her properly before letting out a chuckle. “Sometimes a cigarette will do the trick.”
“Fair enough, but aren’t you a bit too far from home? What are you up to this fine evening?” She teased, mimicking his accent.
The man leaned towards her, the mixture of smoke and cologne washing over her. “Maybe I was waiting for someone worthwhile.”
She couldn’t help but grin towards him, trying to ignore how his actions were making the butterflies in her stomach go wild. “I’m jealous of whoever that honor goes to.” Taking one last slow pull from her cigarette, she flickered the rest of it before pushing off the rail and walking towards the club.
She didn’t know where the sudden wave of boldness came from, perhaps the alcohol, but before she could stop herself she turned her head smiling
“You gonna stay there all night or are you going to act like a proper gentleman and buy me a drink?”
For a second he just looked at her before letting out a heartfelt laugh as he flicked away the remnants of his cigarette and walked up towards her.
“Alright then princess,” He smiled at her, grabbing her hand leading her inside. “Let’s get you that drink.”
Writer: Sandra Mansour
