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Sweating bullets and feeling suffocated, John stumbled out to the apartment's balcony, sliding the door closed behind him. Thankful that the area was empty, he placed his vodka soda on the wooden railing and leaned out into the night, the cool November air soothing him. The screen door was surprisingly good at blocking out the sounds of the ongoing party, though he could still hear the music faintly blaring over the chatter.
John sighed and laid his head on his arms. Parties definitely weren't his element, and it didn't help that he barely knew anybody here. He'd spent the past hour sipping his drinks and dancing to unfamiliar music. John was more of a movie guy - if it wasn’t a licensed song from some terrible action flick, he probably hadn’t heard it. Still, he needed an excuse to get out of his shitty apartment every now and again. It most certainly didn’t hurt that the alcohol did away with the constant stress of college life, though it did put him a little bit on edge. Even intoxicated, he couldn’t seem to turn off that anxious part of his brain.
"Nice night, isn't it?" a girl said beside him. John jumped a little, taken by surprise. She must’ve come in while he was spacing out. He raised his head to look at her, his glasses a little crooked. She was a girl around his own age with a slender figure, leaning her back on the railing and digging around in a pink purse. Her skin had a bit of tan to it, and her slim face was framed by pink-tipped blonde hair, curling out at her shoulders. A fancy-ish strapless purple dress clung tightly to her body, lightly adorned with darker ruffles and frills. John suddenly felt a little self-conscious about his plain black shirt and navy jeans.
The girl pulled a light pink scarf from her purse and wrapped it loosely around her neck. She met John’s eyes and gave him a curious smirk. John realised he'd just been staring at her and averted his gaze, then immediately realised how idiotic that probably looked. Mentally kicking himself, he returned his eyes to hers. She snickered a little.
"Name's Roxy," she said, offering a handshake.
"Hey, um, John, sorry," he said, taking her hand quickly and trying to hold back an oncoming blush.
" John ..." she repeated, with a bit of a drawl.
Roxy withdrew her hand and reached into her purse again, pulling out a cigarette packet and a lighter.
"You smoke, John?" she asked, with a raised eyebrow.
"Oh, no. No thanks. Not that I have a problem with it or anything!"
"Ah, no big." She took a cigarette and put it between her pink lips, shielding the end as she lit it. Watching Roxy take a long drag and exhale the smoke into the dark outside, John couldn't help but feel that it didn't really fit with her whole cutesy-but-elegant style. She looked more like the kind of girl that would sip cocktails and side-eye you with a light smile as you talked her ear off at the bar.
The thought made John realise his mouth had gone quite dry. He took his vodka soda and drank more than a few gulps, then leaned on the balcony with his forearms resting on the railing and the small can clutched in his hands. John cursed internally. It wasn't too often that he found himself one-on-one with a complete stranger, and now he didn't know what to do or say.
"Looked like you were having a moment there before. Parties not your thing?" Roxy's smooth voice shook him out of his mental churning.
"Ah, you got me," he replied with a light chuckle, looking down over the railing. "I've hardly been out this year. I'm not, like, reclusive or anything like that! It's just the idea of these big crowds, so many strangers. It's a little intimidating. And man is it hot in there! I just…" John trailed off as he tried to find a way to put his feelings into words.
"No, I totally get it. Sometimes these things get way too crowded. A girl needs her space, ya know? And sorry for getting all in on your own space, by the way. But I do have a habit to sustain." Roxy emphasised this by taking another long drag from the cigarette and winking at John.
"Oh, it's okay! You seem really nice, Roxy."
"Why thanks, John. You don’t seem too bad yourself."
John was definitely blushing now. He hoped the light was dim enough to conceal it.
As the conversation lapsed, John found himself grasping at whatever he could to keep on talking to Roxy. He watched as she stood there, eyes cast up to the few stars that glittered through the night's clouds, working away at the cigarette with a practised elegance.
John decided he needed to pull out the big guns. He hadn't resorted to this since high school, but he always came to parties prepared; he just felt safer that way.
"You want to see a magic trick?"
Roxy’s face lit up as she met his eyes again.
“I love magic!”
John grinned. He set his drink down on the railing and fumbled around in the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small golden ring.
“Bear witness,” he said dramatically, holding it up in front of his face. She watched as he delicately flipped the ring between his fingers, then gasped when John suddenly smacked his palm against his face. With a bit of a wince he pulled his hand away and the ring hung from the bridge of his glasses, plastered against his nose. Roxy stifled a laugh with her cigarette hand, clearly trying to keep a straight face.
“Okay… Now, for my next trick,” John said. He casually swiped his hand across his face again, taking the ring back into his hand. Roxy followed intensely as he flipped the ring between his fingers again.
“Whoops,” he said, flicking it out over the balcony. She looked over the edge as the ring spun out into the night, hitting the ground with a ding that was barely audible over the muffled party sounds. She turned her head back to see John trying his absolute hardest to look casual.
“Was that part of the trick, or…?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. He just smiled in response, then pointed at her dwindling cig.
“Say, it seems you may need a new cigarette, milady.”
“So I do,” Roxy replied with a playful tone. She put out her cigarette onto the balcony and reached into her handbag, shooting John an amused grin.
“Dun-dun!” She extracted her packet with a flourish and took her time flipping it open, playing into the trick. Tucked inside the packet was the gold ring, slightly reflecting the neon party lights. Roxy burst into laughter, removing the ring and slipping it onto her little finger.
“Very, very impressive,” she said as she laughed, taking a fresh cigarette into her now-ringbound hand. John laughed with her.
“I aim to please,” he said. Then, with her lighter slipping into his hand out of nowhere; “need a light?”
Roxy went into another round of laughter as she took the lighter from him. He felt positively overjoyed. It wasn’t everyday he made a girl that pretty laugh so hard.
“You’re a real treat, John.” She lit her cigarette and let out a few puffs. A mischievous smile came across her face as she observed John looking very pleased with himself.
"You sure you don’t want a drag, magic man?" she asked, offering the cigarette.
John hesitated a little at that, but her elegant grin won him over in the end. He tentatively reached out a hand to hers. Roxy gently placed the cigarette between his middle and index fingers. John gave her a slight smile.
Truth be told, John wasn't exactly a stranger to smoking. It's hard to be when your dad leaves his tobacco lying around the house like spare change. As a curious teenager, John had snuck his fair share of hits, though he never took a liking to it. His fingers still trembled a little as he inhaled the smoke into his lungs, careful not to take too much; he absolutely did not want to have a coughing fit in front of this pretty girl.
John turned his head away and breathed the smoke into the night. He bit his tongue in a wince, holding out the cigarette. Roxy giggled, taking it back.
"You get used to it after a while," she said, taking a quick puff of her own.
“Yeah, I don't know if I want to," he said. His throat burned, but he managed to wrestle his face back into a smile. When she turned back to him, wisps of smoke trailing from between her pink lips, John noticed just how close they’d got. It made him freeze up, his eyes trying to settle somewhere between her nose and eyes. He was suddenly acutely aware of how dry his lips had become and how far his chest was rising with every breath. Every kissing scene from every cheesy 2000’s romcom he’d ever seen flashed through his mind. He stopped himself from gulping because that seemed like an incredibly dorky thing to do.
“Something on your mind, John?” Roxy said. Her eyes seemed to be locking on to his, eager to hear his next words. John couldn’t take it. He glanced away, awkwardly clearing his throat.
“Yeah, well, I was just thinking that…” As he tried to meet her eyes again, John was cut off by a loud ringtone chiming. Roxy perked up and reached into her purse, pulling out her phone. John silently thanked whoever the caller was. He could tell he was somehow about to put his foot in his mouth.
“Oh, shit. I gotta run,” she said, and she seemed genuinely disappointed by it.
“Hey, no problem.” John wanted to say something like ‘I should be heading off too’ or maybe a real gentlemanly ‘shall I walk you out?’ but Roxy was already leaning around him, and John felt the press of those pink lips as she kissed his right cheek. He must've looked like a dead fish with his eyes wide and mouth slightly open as she gave him another of those sly winks, putting out her cigarette and bundling her scarf back into her purse.
“Check your back pocket, John. You can tell me just what it is you were thinking some other time.” And with one last look over her shoulder, Roxy slid open the door and disappeared into the noise of the party.
John could hardly hear the music leaking through the open door as he processed the fact that this insanely pretty girl was unquestionably into him. He absentmindedly reached into the back pocket of his jeans and found a two of hearts playing card where his golden ring once was. Scrawled on it in glossy pink ink – with surprisingly messy handwriting – was a phone number.
Questions flitted around John's mind. Where did she get the card from? When did she find the time to write her number on it? Does she just carry a bunch of them on hand, ready to plant on unsuspecting boys after kissing them? As he carefully pocketed the card, John figured he’d just have to ask her later. Maybe over dinner.