Blue Smoke

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I'm Fletch. I sell weed on the weekends. I smoke it on weekdays. For the most part, that's all I do. Or at least, that's all I did before her.

Romance / Other
Age Rating:

Chapter 1

Ben and George came over at ten. I’d been awake for half an hour and my hair was still wet.

“We going skate park later?” Ben asked, dropping down onto the bean bag in the corner of my bedroom, taking his grinder and rolling utensils out. George shut my door in a futile attempt to stop the weed from stinking out the rest of the house. It was fine, my mum wasn’t due back for a few days. I’d put all of her wax burners out beforehand.

“Probably, if you guys wanted to,” I mumbled, laying back down on my bed. George sat at my desk.

“Might as well, nothing else to do,” he said. Ben had rolled and sparked a spliff in the first five minutes of being in my room and was playing some awful metal from my Alexa. I did not have the energy to change it.

“So,” Ben said, taking a long draw on the spliff before holding it out to me, “guess who I’m talking to.” He grinned and I rolled my eyes. Ben had split up with his girlfriend six months ago and hadn’t spoken, as in ‘talked talked’ to a girl in those six months.

“Go on?” George said.

“Jade,” Ben revealed, looking at us both in turn. My brows furrowed,

“As in, Jade, Mya and Jade?” I asked, he nodded. I shrugged, staring back up at the ceiling. Jade was the nicer one out of the twins. Not that Mya was awful but definitely more intense. Too intense for someone like Ben. “She’s alright.”

“How did that start?” George asked. Ben shrugged,

“We got put together for a group project over half term.”

“You talking to anyone?” George looked at me and I scrunched my nose up.

“Nah, I’m giving that a rest for a little while,” I replied. I’d been in and out of flings consecutively for several months and had grown bored of all the different stages.

“Fletch is all shagged out,” Ben laughed. I stuck my middle finger up at him. George took the spliff from me. Once we’d finished smoking, I filled my room with deodorant and we all marched downstairs in search of food, sticking a pizza in the oven. It was basically lunchtime anyway. My phone lit up with a text from someone trying to pick up and I peeped the time. It was only just eleven. Close enough.

“There’s a girl in your garden,” Ben said, staring out of my kitchen window. George and I looked at each other from where we were sat at the table, equal expressions of confusion, before bursting out in laughter.

“How high are you?” George asked. Ben rolled his eyes, looking over his shoulder at us.

“I’m not joking. There’s a girl with pink hair in your garden.” We both stood up from the table to take a look for ourselves.

He wasn’t lying.

There was a girl in the garden.

I left the kitchen through the dining room, standing outside on the warm patio slabs. All I could do was stare curiously at the girl as she stepped towards the fence, lifting herself a few inches before I spoke.

“What are you doing?” I asked. She yelped in surprise, dropping onto the flower bed. My mum was not going to be happy if she’d damaged her hardy hibiscus. I cocked my head and crossed my arms.

“Getting my brothers ball back,” she replied, brushing out a moss stain on her t-shirt. She was poster girl edgy. The candy floss pink hair, ripped jeans, fishnets, and a band t-shirt. I’d put money on her having playlists with Tumblr quotes as titles.

“Why didn’t you just knock?”

“Do you not think I tried that?” she responded, wrinkling her nose and looking at me as if I had suggested the dumbest thing in the world rather than the social norm.

“So... you just broke into my garden?” She shrugged, looking around her at my mum’s pride and joy. There wasn’t a stem out of place.

“Is that what it looks like?” she questioned. I scoffed,


“Then yes.” I wasn’t quite sure where to go from there.

“Right then,” I said slowly. She squinted at me as the sun began to make an appearance above my house and a few seconds of awkward silence took place between us.

“The band you’re listening to are shit by the way,” she said confidently before turning and hooking her hands on the fence again.

“Slipknot aren’t shit,” I replied, unsure why I was defending a band I wasn’t overly keen on myself but I felt like I had to. There was no way she could just trespass on my property, talk shit about our music and then fuck off. But it seemed that’s exactly what she was doing.

I watched her pull herself back over the fence, hearing the scraping sound when her shoes hit the concrete on the other side, the clapping sound echoing down the narrow alley.

“Whatever,” she said.

“You could have just used the front door,” I called.

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” Her detached voice called back, growing quieter as she moved further away.

The strange encounter kept me rooted to the spot for a second, not quite sure how to digest the little experience. All I could do was smile in utter disbelief.

“What did she say?” Ben asked when I returned inside, they had both been watching out of the kitchen window. I shrugged,

“Not much. Came to get her brothers ball, called our music shit, then climbed back over the fence.” Both of them chuckled.

“Bet she’s fun at parties,” George said.

“Who even is she?” Ben asked. I rolled my shoulders again, returning to my seat at the table and picking my phone back up, waiting for the pizza to cook.

“Not a clue,” I mumbled. I hadn’t seen her before, that I could remember anyway, and I’m sure I would.

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