Chalk Outlines

She stuck the fag between her teeth, lifting the lighter. The flame threw the contours of her face into harsh relief, her cheekbones jutting out and the slope to her jaw seemingly pushed farther back, pressing against her skull. She looked terrible in the semi-darkness of seven fifty – three. Her fags kept her going and the seemingly endless supply of coffee to accompany it. It was warm out and she was wearing acid – washed shorts and a cropped tee, gladiator sandals abandoned on the porch. She was deathly pale and skinny, so skinny it looked like she would snap if I so much as moved to touched her.

She didn’t appear to care, however. She just drew in another lungful of smoke and blew it out, leaning against the wall as the bracelets around her rail – thin wrists almost slipped off as she lowered her arms. She decided to cross her arms instead and tapped the ash off of her cigarette.

She caught me staring – I know I shouldn’t have but I couldn’t help it, the poor creature seemed frail, and on instinct I wanted to help – and changed her demeanour immediately. She cocked a hip and gave me a once over, eyes lingering in certain places, with a flirtatious smile gracing her lips.

“Hello there.” She croaked, taking another drag and blowing it out. “I’m Courtney, and you are?” She swayed over, locking her eyes on mine. Her dark, straggly hair danced around her shoulders in waves, the summer breeze encouraging its movements.

“Are you sure you’re talking to me?” I replied. This was new – I had never met a girl so bold before.

“Do you see anyone else around, sweetheart? Do you mind if I have your name?” She stopped a few feet in front of me, planting her feet. She was about an inch taller than me, and she still had an enticing expression on her face.

“I’m Casey, and how do you know I’m interested?” I definitely wasn’t – smoking was highly unattractive to me and so was being ‘super – model thin’. Courtney sucked on her fag a bit more and blew the smoke out, tapping the ash. I caught a whiff and coughed. “Do you mind?”

“Sorry.” She said, her tone implying she wasn’t sorry in the slightest. All the same, she dropped the butt and stomped on it, wincing a little bit as the small flame hit her skin. I wanted to ask if she was okay, but she cut me off.

And by cut off, I mean with a kiss. Just a small one, chaste and with a hint of something that could be more if I wanted it to be.

But I could feel her coating my lips, her cigarette and coffee mixture and the filth that seemed to follow. I wanted to scrub at my skin, as well as at my arms where she ran her hand down to meet mine. I wanted to flee – she tasted like a gun – loaded and dangerous. Her life was ticking away slowly and here she was, kissing almost strangers.

“Not interested.” I blurted, snatching my hand from her grip. She seemed shocked, but let me go. “You’re not my type.”

She watched me go, leave the porch behind. “You’ll kiss me some day like you mean it.”


That ‘some day’ was pretty far in the future – a few years, to be exact.

“You look gorgeous,” I told her, and it was true. She was healthy, and her skin glowed. Her hair still came out in clumps every now and then, but she was better. She had been off cigarettes for three months and had stopped a diet of plain coffee.

“Thank you.” She was wearing a pretty dress that showed off all of her curves – including a pot belly from lunch.

“Hey Court.” I was reading a health magazine that was on her coffee table. I beckoned her over and she sat down next to me, looking at the picture on the side of an underweight girl with a large red slash across her – advertising a big “no” to everyone.

“Yeah?”

“I think you deserve that kiss.” She looked up from the magazine.

“You mean it?” She said, eyes widening. They were no longer bloodshot – I could see her beautiful blue irises. She leaned closer and connected our lips, twirling a piece of my hair around her finger.

We parted after a few seconds and I replied, “I really do.”