Work Text:
“You’re beautiful,” Jason says, standing too close to her, twirling a finger into her hair, and here, with her, his usual church-boy smile is gone, giving way for a flat expression, his eyes almost cold; always so cold, and she’s always liked that about him.
She still blows smoke into his face, tells him, “That’s not what you said to your friends yesterday.”
It makes him grimace, makes his face go red with anger-embarrassment (she does tend to have that effect on him), makes him grit out, “I can leave, too, you know, you brat,” but Eden closes her hand around his wrist tightly, refusing to let him go, takes another drag of her cigarette; reaches out to put it between his lips, instead, exhaling just as he inhales.