✧. ┊cigarettes

By the time dinner had dissolved into half a dozen conversations happening at once, Sam had already given you a subtle nod toward the back hallway. It wasn’t planned - at least, it never needed to be. After years of family parties and neighborhood cookouts, you’d perfected the art of disappearing before anyone could rope you into another conversation. A few minutes later, you were climbing the narrow ladder leading to the roof above the garage, the sounds of laughing parents and kids fading.

The evening was warm, the sky painted in soft streaks of orange and pink as the sun dipped lower over the neighborhood. Sam settled himself against the shingles, stretching one leg out before fishing a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. He glanced over at you, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“still the best spot in the house,” he murmured, looking out across the rooftops before offering you the pack.

After you took one, he flicked open his lighter with his thumb. The small flame danced in the breeze, and he shifted a little closer, lifting his free hand to shield it as he leaned over to light the end of your cigarette.