Everything’s always been uncertain. My future, my goals, my wants, my needs—all of it seems like a mystery that I can’t ever seem to unravel, no matter how hard I try. I’ve just been breezing through all my classes like nothing. It’s like I can’t figure out what I want yet. I’ve never really had to worry about much. Yet, I constantly worry about everything. I have nothing planned, and I do not have the slightest motivation to plan anything. Not even my relationship.

“Hey man, you all right?” Logan asks, snapping me out of my train of thought. I slowly slide my eyes in his direction, resting my cheek in my palm as I glance over at him. He cocks his head to the slide, his gray hood slowly shifting on the top of his head. Next to him, his girlfriend Paige munches on her fries, scrolling through her phone before her eyes find their way to me as well.

“Yeah, you’ve been pretty quiet,” Paige said, pinching another fry between her fingertips before popping it into her mouth.

I give a small chuckle before nodding my head. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” I glance down at my phone. The vibration against the wooden picnic table beneath us was enough to grab both of their attention. I swipe my phone open to reveal a text from my girl. I half smile before I send a quick text back, locking my phone.

“Carrie?” Logan asks, leaning over the table.

I nod once more, looking back up at him. “Yeah, she’s been a little pissed with me the past few days.” I chuckle, reaching into my pocket. As my fingers slide against my jacket, I feel the cool, tight plastic encasing my cigarette pack. I pull it out, setting it on the picnic table.

“And that’s why,” Paige says bluntly, grabbing another fry. “You told her you were going to stop smoking.”

I roll my eyes as I flip open the lid of my pack and pull a smoke out. As I bring it to my mouth, my lighter fights the wind to ignite the rolled paper. I let out an annoyed sigh before Paige growls and leans forward across the table, cupping her hands around mine to block the wind. My eyes dart up to hers as it finally lights and she leans back into her seat, her eyes still hard on me. 

“Look, she isn’t my wife. If I want to smoke, I can smoke. I told her I would try to stop. I never promised her anything, and honestly, I do not have to. I don’t like how she drinks herself stupid every time she gets anything below a B, but I’m not nagging her to stop drinking. We make our own choices.” Logan lifts his eyebrows, crossing his arms. I take a long inhale, letting the toxins fill my lungs.

“Yeah, but you two should still respect each other enough to—” I cut Paige off mid-sentence, pinching my cigarette tightly.

“Me smoking cigarettes has absolutely nothing to do with Carrie. It doesn’t harm her, it doesn’t blacken her lungs, and it does nothing except get on her nerves. If she doesn’t like the smell of it, then she shouldn’t have gone out with me. I’ve been smoking long before I met her…” 

I snap. I know I’m being an ass today, but I’ve just been low on patience recently. I’m assuming it’s mainly because of my struggle with the fuck I want to do with my life.

Carrie and I have been dating for the last six months, so many people have been taking our relationship quite seriously since we lasted through the summer and into the next semester. She’s one of the best girls I’ve ever stumbled upon, and I was lonely. We found each other shortly after midterms last semester. I couldn’t help but stare at her in class—she wasn’t the most talkative girl in the class, but she was the hottest. I always noticed how she wore her blonde hair differently every day, sometimes curling it into tight ringlets, or letting it fall straight over her shoulders. Carrie was always sharp with her words, regardless of who she was talking to. No fucks seemed to give her. One day, our history professor ordered the class to pair up into partners for an assignment. I was sound asleep at my desk when the order to pair up was given, and a foot kicking bluntly awakened me against my own. I jumped awake and pulled my earbud from my ear, my eyes glaring at her for a moment before I noticed her desk was slid against mine. Her blue eyes just stared at me, annoyed for a moment, before she finally spoke, informing me we were the only two left without a partner.

The project extended over the rest of the semester and ended right after the midterms. During that time, we spent late nights researching, gathering information, and forming opinions about certain topics with one another. We also grew extremely close quickly. Some nights, she would pass out in my dorm room after hours of burning our eyes on my laptop screen, taking notes, and building prototypes. Soon, we began talking more about our lives together rather than our project. Carrie learned that my mom was suffering from lung cancer—which is probably the main reason she was on me about stopping smoking.

But I also learned that a year prior, her mother was murdered by some thugs in town. We soon empathized with each other, and then before I knew it, I just kissed her. My brain reacted impulsively, mainly because I did not know what to do when she confided in me about her mom—she was in tears. Carrie was shaking. The strong persona that she carried with her from class to class every day was suddenly broken down in a matter of seconds. I’ve never been good with comforting others, and for some reason, that was the only way I knew how to respond. I just leaned in and cut off her sentence with my lips, almost as if I was forcing her to stop crying. And shockingly enough, she kissed me back. It was just a kiss. There was no spark, no electric feeling pulsing through me from the suddenness of it. Our bodies just acted, and soon enough, I climbed on top of her, and her hands began removing my shirt.

The morning after, we were lying in my bed naked, both of us staring up at the ceiling. I just remember her turning her head over to me, those gorgeous eyes looking at me, her lips now chapped from my rough kisses. And with those scabbed lips, Carrie just simply asked me, “So, are we going to just do this, or do you want to go out with each other finally?”

It wasn’t much of a question, more like an ultimatum, like she didn’t care what the answer was going to be. I did not know what to even respond with. Being with Carrie felt nice. It was comforting. Our friendship at the time, the partner relationship we had, all of it together, was just strange. Everything about us together just felt weird, almost out of place. But I felt like I needed just that, something to get me out of this constant rut I was stuck in, something that went against the grain. I just shrugged my shoulders and answered her with the dating option, and she just simply nodded and went back to looking at the ceiling. “Sounds good,” was all she said.

I chuckled and rested my hands behind my head, my eyes also aimed at the ceiling. “Cool.”

Back to reality

“All right, damn, calm the fuck down.” Logan snaps. “Paige’s trying to help because you seem to be in such a bad mood.” His eyes are hard on me.

I sighed. I know Logan’s right, and I shouldn’t be taking my shit out on Paige. “I’m sorry.” Taking another drag, I say sincerely. “This semester has just been off to a rough start,” I admit, exhaling into the wind behind me.

“Is this about your mom?” Paige asks before sliding her tray of fries over to me. “Take some. You haven’t eaten lunch all week.”

I sigh and pick up a fry, holding it in between my fingers. “Yeah. Mama’s seen better days,” I say, popping it into my mouth. “Good?”

“Good, that at least, you’re eating,” Paige says. “Not so happy about your mom, though.” Paige rests her elbows on the table, leaning forward as I flick my ashes onto the ground before taking another drag. “I heard she had to stop working.”

“Yeah. Not only did my dad tell her to, but her boss refused to make her work being under so much pressure. Mom’s on stage two for now, but it’s killing her not being able to go out. She’s been so depressed even though she took up gardening as her new hobby. Now her plants are dying because she’s losing interest.”

“I feel so bad for Ms. Coleman,” Logan says. “She doesn’t deserve this.”

“None of us ever deserve half of the crap that happens to us. That’s why they always say that life isn’t fair because it isn’t made to be fair.” I take another drag. “But that’s also why they say to live life to the fullest. Because what’s the point of regretting what could have been?” I say, exhaling. “And that’s what Mom’s doing. She’s living her life and enjoying whatever life she has left to live.”

Paige and Logan look at me for a second before I see a small smile creep onto both of their faces. “You’re right bud,” Logan says, nodding.

Suddenly, Paige’s eyes grow wide. “Oh! Oh! I know what she can do!” Paige says, bouncing in her seat. “I can teach her how to sew! When my dad goes hunting, I sew up his torn clothes and make him blankets and mittens. I’m sure your mom would love doing that in her free time.” Her light brown eyes are completely lit up, almost with the hope of approval in my answer. She keeps her hands clasped together as she stares at me.

I smirk and nod. “Yeah, mom would probably love to do something like that. I just hope that you’re not going to teach her how to sew some ridiculous crap for me to wear.”

Paige laughs before picking up another fry and pointing it at me. “If you keep being an asshole to Carrie, I’ll make sure to drop a few bad tips on what mom could do for her little boy.”

“Yeah, you better watch out. Paige doesn’t play.” Logan chuckles, grabbing his phone out of his pocket. “Hell, we have five minutes until our next class.” Logan gets up and leans over to grab his and Paige’s backpacks off the ground.

“You want us to walk you to class?”

“Nah. My next class was canceled for the rest of the day. My teacher got into an accident on the way here, so I’ll be free.”

“Hell, is she all right?” Logan asks.

“That I know of, yeah. Just some scraps and aches. That was all she said in the email to the school.”

“Well, have fun then. You going back to the dorm?” Logan asks.

I nod, looking at him questionably.

“You mind if I come over later today and maybe stay over for the night, do you?”

“Something’s up?”

“Nothing—it’s just Brad. He’s been stressing about football season, and of course, they have a game tonight. He said he was calling Danny and a few others over to go over some plays before they get ready. My place is going to be a frat house.”

I chuckle and nod. “Yeah, no problem. Come over whenever. I don’t plan on going out.”

“Okay, man. See you.”

“I’ll see you next week!” Paige says, waving bye to me. “I’m going to my dad’s house this weekend, so I’ll pick up some sewing supplies to bring back.”

They both then walk off.

“Bye, Luke!” Paige says again before they stroll their way from the quad in the center of all the classroom buildings. I wave back to them before I stand up. The wind gives a mighty gust as I stand, blowing the cherry off my cigarette, causing it to fall and die out on the ground.

“Well, crap,” I say, flicking the remaining short into the grass. I sling my backpack over my shoulders and begin making my way back to my dorm room. The coolness of this September day bites my cheeks as I walk against it. The chill starts streaming beneath my jacket. It was nice to have the rest of the day off on a Friday. It was very rare. I didn’t know what I was going to do before Logan comes over. I figured he would probably want to go to the game later to cheer on Brad and the rest of the team. But I will have plenty of time to just relax before then. Maybe I should take a nap. I got very little sleep the night before since me and Carrie spent most of the night texting and arguing. And it was all about stupid shit, just nit-pick drama for absolutely nothing. That probably explains my mood today. It’s funny how I told Paige that just because me and Carrie were seeing each other, that didn’t mean Carrie could change me. But regardless if I agree or not, she always changed some things about me. Even if I don’t realize it right then and there; Carrie changed my mood today, she changed the fact that I barely got any sleep. But for small things like those, I do not mind. It’s almost as if I expected this whenever I was seeing a girl. But it’s those little reasons that make me question my validity sometimes.

As I walk through the door, I throw my backpack on the ground, shutting the door. After walking over to my bed, I let out a long sigh. I’ve felt my phone buzz several times on my walk back, but I just haven’t taken it out to see what Carrie wanted. I already knew it was her, seeing that nobody ever blows my phone up this much within ten minutes. I pulled my hand out of my pocket, and I sigh again. I squint heavily when the brightness of my phone temporarily blinds me. Texts from Carrie caused me to smirk.

12:33 pm: It’s like you do not even care about yourself, Luke.

12:40 pm: If you smell like smoke when I see you tonight, I swear to fucking God…

12:45 pm: Think of your mom. Look at what she’s going through. Do you think she wants you repeating her same mistakes?

12:46 pm: Is that not enough motivation for you to quit? Don’t do it for me, fuck me. Do it for your mom.

12:47 pm: Oh, sorry, did you suddenly get busy with your last classes getting canceled?

12:48 pm: Whatever, it’s your life. I can’t control what you do.

12:50 pm: Finish that cigarette I know you’re smoking. Suck it back, breathe it all in then, Luke. Don’t let my attitude be another toxic thing in your life.

I can’t help growling and throwing my phone against the wall beside me. She knows how to fucking get to me like this. Carrie, the queen of fucking guilt trips, I call her. Reading every text from her just made my chest clench tighter, but also made my lungs hungrier. I can’t smoke in the dorm, as if that wasn’t a given. But it’s so cold outside right now. I shove my hand back into my pocket and flick the pack open, tugging a bent cigarette from it. I bring it to my mouth and pinch it between my teeth. Whenever I can’t light one, I just suck on the filter endlessly, sopping the hell out of it, practically ruining it. But it’s the only thing keeping me somewhat calm right now. I do not even know how to respond, or what to even argue back about. At this point, I do not even see why I should. Carrie knows she’s right, and the longer I wait, she’s either getting pissed that I’m taking so long, or she knows that she’s getting to me.

I never knew I could let someone get to me like this. Carrie’s always been at odds with me. It’s like she knows how I operate, she knows what I’m going to argue back, or what I’m thinking. That’s when she throws the guilt trips around. And normally, I do not let that type of stuff affect me, but not like this. But with her, when I know she’s right and I’m wrong, I can’t help but get upset. My hands shake, and my lips crave to have a cigarette between them. It amazes me Carrie can even do this to me when normally I could give two fucks less about anything else. But what she doesn’t realize, is that stupid fights like these only make me want to smoke more. I just want to chain them nonstop, one after the other, until my throat is dry and numb, begging for some type of relief.

Suddenly, I hear my phone vibrate once more. I lean over off the bed, snatching it up. I already know what to expect because it’s not like her to apologize for this quickly.

1:00 pm: Three packs a day, Luke.

I clench the cigarette tighter between my teeth and let my fingers rapidly press over the letters on my phone. My face is hard, my eyes squinted, breathing heavily.

1:01 pm: I fucking know. That’s it. That’s all I could say back to everything. I take a deep breath, images of my mom flashing through my mind.

The day Mom found out she had cancer, she went home that night and smoked three packs. She never smoked as much as I did, and that night, she practically killed her throat. She stayed outside for hours, crying and smoking. I went out with a bottle of water, seeing her sit in her wooden rocking chair outside, tears streaming down her face. I pulled her cigarette from her lips and put it in my mouth, handing her the water. “Drink,” I tell her, taking a long drag of her cigarette. She looked up at me with her broken brown eyes, her tears staining her face.

“Oh, Luke…” Mom breaks down. I remain still, constantly bringing the cigarette back up to my lips. “Don’t do this.” She begged me.

“I’m not doing anything. Now drink.” I bent down and hugged her, her arms around me. She buried her face into my shirt, slightly rocking us back and forth.

“Don’t be like me, baby,” Mom begged me. “Don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

“I’m being myself, Mama. Just me. It’s just time for you to stop.” I told her; my voice shaky.

Everything about that day makes my heart hurt. Mom’s eyes were completely broken, and that was the only night she ever showed any signs of losing hope in herself. She never picked up another cigarette after that night. Yet, she was always perfectly fine with watching me put them back one after the other. She was never provoked, nor did she have urges from that point on. It’s as if I took over her addiction for her. We both, at the time, smoke a pack and a half a day. So, when I have one for myself, I always have another for her, since I know she can’t, and I know she wants to. It’s one of the unhealthiest ways to cope, but that’s always been what’s worked for me. Chapped lips and a dry throat—as long as Mama didn’t have to bear with it, then I wouldn’t mind doing it every day until I died.

Suddenly, I hear three bangs at the door, making me jump. I stand up, pacing my way over to the door. I keep the cigarette pinched between my teeth, bringing it to the corner of my mouth as I place my hand on the knob. I haven’t been back to my room that long—there’s no way Logan’s here already, not only after less than an hour. As I twist the knob, my door quietly creaks open, revealing Carrie standing in my doorway. My eyes widen as I gaze down at her, watching her shiver. She then looks up at me, her stunning blue eyes wet, her cheeks red. “Luke…” she says before taking a step into me. She plows into my chest, wrapping her arms around my back. As she cries into my chest, I let out a deep breath and felt her body shake against me. I hug her back tightly, and take a few steps, walking her backward into my room. Before I hug my lady, I kick the door shut. “I’m sorry…” Carrie says, her nails digging into the back of my jacket. “I just worry about you, and Coleman, and I was being such a bitch…” She lets out a few more choked gasps as I hold her tighter. The cigarette fell from my mouth as she continued to speak. “I had no right to say any of that, and I’m so sorry—”

I lean down and cup Carrie’s face into my hands, smashing my lips against hers. I always catch myself doing this, almost every time Carrie cries. It’s like I have no other way to handle her like this. I’m completely clueless about how to act or what to do. I just do this. As I feel her lips kiss back against mine, I slide my hands down her shoulders, letting my fingers sprawl across her arms as I pull her harder against me. “It’s okay.” I exhale into her mouth. I know Carrie’s probably annoyed at the taste of my breath, but at this point, I do not care. She won't say anything about it. I then let my hands slide lower to the small of her back, bending her slightly backward as I kiss her more passionately. It’s almost impossible for me to stay mad at her, mainly because I know everything she says and everything she does is genuine. Even if Carrie comes off as bitchy or irrational at times, I understand it. I know exactly why she’s like this. I understand it—thinking so compulsively like this. And that’s exactly how I’m thinking right now.

I let my hand slide a tad lower, until I cup her butt, squeezing slightly. Her breaths become louder as our lips continue wrestling together. I feel her arms trailing down my back until Carrie breeches my shirt, letting her nails gently drag across the skin on my back. Both of us let out panted breaths before I spin her around, still keeping our lips involved with one another. I release her butt and throw my arms behind myself, desperately ripping my jacket off, tearing at the sleeves until I pull it completely off, revealing my long black sleeve beneath it. I then greedily return my hands to Carrie, tugging back at her coat, pulling it from her slim shoulders. Carrie’s arms then sling around my neck, and she tugs me forward, walking both of us back towards my bed. Once we reach it, she lets herself fall backward, her eyes on me, her chest constantly rising and falling. I look at Carrie intensely for a moment, taking in every piece of her, every single inch of her beauty. Carrie has her tied back into a tight ponytail, it falling to the right side of her head. Hidden under her coat was a gray low-cut sweater, letting a small portion of her cleavage pop out. Her eyes lock on mine for a minute before she bites her lip and slowly extends her legs out, wrapping them behind mine before she tries to pull me down. Our jeans rub together for a moment before I lean over her, boxing her in between my arms. I kiss Cassie for a few more moments before I kiss lower, letting my lips peck at her jaw until I make my way to her neck. I let my body sink more into hers, my crotch pressing against hers, my dick aching and hard already, just from all of this. As I continue grinding against her and kissing her neck, Carrie’s sneaky fingers find the bottom of my shirt, and she pulls it upwards. Once she reaches my shoulder blades, she stops for a moment. “Move for a second…” she says lowly, her voice almost a faint whine.