Page 108 of Such Sharp Teeth

“He thinks I’m sexy because he loves me,” she said. “He’s attracted to me because he’s in love with me. Almost like he has to be. You know what I mean?”

I didn’t. I don’t. Because I don’t think anyone has ever been in love with me. It’s only ever been attraction. That’s fine. It’s fine.

I catch Ash’s eye and signal to her that I’m going out for a cigarette.

Be right back, I mouth. She returns a worried stare that I pretend not to notice.

I zip up my jacket and step out the back door onto the patio. There are some picnic tables with ashtrays, white string lights overhead.

I sit on top of one of the picnic tables and put my feet on the bench.

Kevin comes out a second later. He hands me a cigarette. He smokes Parliaments. Ian smokes Marlboros.

I know what pain is. I know how to feel it, and I know how not to feel it.

“As a Girl Scout, you should know,” Kevin says, “that smoking is bad for you.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I like things that are bad for me,” I say.

I put the cigarette between my lips, and he lights it. A real gentleman, this Kevin.

I exhale up at the string lights. They’re so bright, they burn.

“I think everyone likes things that are bad for them. Don’t you?” I ask, leaning forward and tilting my head back, making my neck long.

“Do you live around here?” he asks me.

He leans against a post. It’s working for him. He looks cool. The collar is popped on his jacket. The popular boys used to do that in high school.

I bet he was a popular boy in high school. Probably at my high school.

“I grew up here,” I say. “I don’t live here anymore. I live in the city. Manhattan.”

“Oh, nice,” he says.

For some reason this reaction is disappointing to me. I know the conversation isn’t going to go anywhere from here. He can’t keep up with me.

“You’re looking at me funny,” I say. This is a line. It has a high success rate.

“Really?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say. “You’re looking at me funny. Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” he says. He’s getting shy. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I say, pretending I’m shy.

Let’s see if he can recover.

“You’re really pretty,” he says. “Gorgeous.”

Ah, Kevin. Proud of you.

“You think so?” I ask after a long drag of my cigarette.

“Fuck yeah,” he says.

“Yeah?”