My fucking knife.
"Where the fuck did you get that?" I take the blade, looking at her.
"You should be more careful with your stuff, Masen. Shouldn't probably keep your condoms in a bag full of files."
Fuck.
"You went through my stuff?" She just cocks her head to the side and stands there. Her hair is so long it almost touches the waistband of her underwear when she keeps it to the side like that. Long legs seem endlessly, thick Nike socks on her feet. She looks so beautiful, so vulnerable, so fucking broken. "Listen, I don't even care about that. Just let me talk to you, please." I try.
"I didn't expect it to still happen, since it's been so fucking long. But here you are. I can't believe I've been so fucking stupid. Did you buy that Hermès belt with my money, Masen?" She stares at me and smirks but it's venomous. If looks could kill, I'd be dead instantly.
"No, I didn't. But let me explain."
"I don't want your words. Now, get to it. Finish the job, be worthy of my parents' money. I know they wouldn't care less about me doing this."
"But I do."
"You're a good liar… I'll give you that." She sits on the table now, feet on one of the three, mismatched chairs and takes her pack of smokes that lay in the metallic fruit bowl. I stare at the neatly folded blankets on the bed as I hear her lighter click. She inhales deeply and then it hits me.
That smell.
She's not smoking a cigarette.
She's smoking fucking weed, top-notch weed and I want to rip my fucking hair out when I see the thick blunt in between her fingers.
"Baby, no…"