These Four Words

The warm breeze softly flowed around the people at the lake, making happiness fill the air. Everyone was having a great time resting and being with their families on this fantastic summer day in southern Wisconsin. Everyone except one person, that is. They spotted her from afar as she paced back and forth on the boardwalk, chain smoking like a mad woman. Most people ignored her, thinking that she was just a crazy teenager taking her anger out in a public place. Then there were some people that couldn't take their eyes off of her. They saw her face, noticing that she was agitated, though she looked stunning by all means. Her small nose, green eyes, and plump red lips were hard to stop looking at. She had a small frame that was dressed up in an white, over-sized strapless sundress and her feet were bare at this point. Earlier she had kicked them off, probably because they looked like they'd be excruciatingly painful.

Minutes flew by as she paced back and forth, smoking one cigarette after another until she finally put one out and realized that the pack was completely empty. If she wasn't angry before, she definitely was now. She plopped down on the edge and brought her legs up to cradle them in her arms and to bury her head. She didn't know what to do at this point other than to sit there and pout.

A few moments flew by until she felt footsteps coming her way and someone sit down right next to her. They didn't say a single word, but the girl sighed, waiting for some sort of greeting. Instead, she slightly saw callused fingers hold out an open pack of cigarettes, as if the person were offering to share. "Fuck off." It was a nice gesture, but she wasn't in the mood for company, nor was she in the mood to play nice.

The person chuckled lightly, but didn't move a single inch. "Hey," they spoke, "I noticed that you ran out and even though you're too pretty to smoke, I thought I'd offer you one... or ten, if necessary." His voice was soft, almost sympathetic in the most angelic way possible. He sounded so awkward saying those words, but the girl didn't want to respond or lift up her head to look at this kind stranger. "I can go and leave them here if you would want." He whispered.

"I thought I told you to fuck off, yet here you are, still rambling about cigarettes." She lifted her head and combed back her brunette hair away from her eyes in a swift motion. That's when she knew that she might had been making a huge mistake. The man was smiling politely and his hazel eyes almost took the breath right away from her. Words escaped her mouth and her head. He was too good looking to be over here with a mess like her.

"Glad to see your face." His lips turned upwards even more. What was he doing over here?

"Sorry." That's all she could manage to say as she looked over his perfectly structured face and his scrawny body. In response he shook his head and shrugged as if it were no big deal, as if encounters like this one happened all the time. He opened the pack of cigarettes and pulled out two, sticking one between his lips and handing one over to the girl before digging for a lighter.

"John." He introduced himself while lighting her cigarette for her. She was weary of where this was headed and kept herself on guard for the worst case scenario.

"Leighton." She inhaled deeply and let the menthol set its place in her lungs.

"So what's your problem, Leighton?" John extended his long legs, which were clad in rolled up skinny jeans, and placed his feet in the cold lake.

"Why should it matter?" She asked him, her brows furrowed.

"I'm trying to be nice," he hinted. For some reason, he was deeply amused by this entire thing.

"Well, John," she smacked her hand down on the empty space of wood next to her, "for being a stranger, you might be a little too nice." For the first time that day she showed a hint of a smile and her eyes lit up like the Fourth of July. Somehow his presence brought her the smallest spark of happiness.

"You should smile more often." John complimented her before looking down at his feet shyly. He kicked the water, watching small ripples form. It seemed to intrigue him, so Leighton kept her mouth shut. After the cigarettes had their last hits taken off of them, John looked back over at her and squinted his eyes to block the sun. "This has been nice." It had only been ten minutes, half of which Leighton spent being a brat, but even without words it felt like they had known each other for several lifetimes. She nodded her head in agreement and looked sad and lonely all over again. "Wanna take a walk with me?" John asked her expecting a no, but she agreed.

The next hour and a half was spent getting to know each other and letting Leighton rant about how her best friend had just stabbed her in the back and how her family was being more irritating than ever about her going to college since she had taken a year off to go on a journey. John listened carefully and gave words of advice when he thought they were necessary. He told her that he was in a band, which explained the calloused fingertips, and that they were just passing through on a day off and that they'd be playing in Madison the next night. Somehow, this all surprised Leighton, even though she should have expected it in the first place due to the way he talked, hummed, tapped his feet, and dressed.

"You should really think about coming to the show tomorrow." John smiled down at her. His body towered over hers by a foot and a few inches, which felt good and comforting to the both of them. "I'll put you on our guest-list if you wanna come." Johns voice sounded nervous saying these words, but in Leighton's mind it was incredibly cute.

"I'll do what I can." She smiled. This one man, this perfect stranger, had the ability to take all of her problems away with a nod and a wave and it amazed her to no end. This wasn't how any type of relationships were formed, she thought, so why was this happening to her?