#rue ackerman

The moment of refuge is brief— stolen as night creeps over Ithaca and cold begins to chase away any of the warmth that mid May brings. Sage drew her cigarette to her lips, tucking the smoke into her chest and curving it there cruelly, letting the heat of it prick at her insides before escaping in a rush above her head. Doe eyes closed and her lashes swept along the tops of her cheeks, it felt good to disappear for a moment, to indulge in something that was entirely unlike her. The sound of footsteps around the corner of the path made her curse, flicking the cherry end of the butt into the new grass of the courtyard— gone was the evidence just as she looked up and fixed a beatific smile. “You’re out late,” Sage said, before the last blink of daylight revealed her new companion to be none other than Rue. A sigh of relief forcibly left her narrow frame, followed by a laugh. “Shit, you scared me. I thought it was going to be my landlord or something.” She leaned into her friend’s side, “Going home? We should go get something to eat first.” Her lower lip jutted, “I haven’t seen you all day. I missed you.”

Otto still wore the stain of a berry-red kiss, it smeared garish on his mouth as he swallowed down what remained in the bottom of his glass. His face contorted while the amber liquid burned its path down his throat, sitting in his belly where he had already drank more than his fill for the evening. Dark eyes skimmed the crowd, picking out familiar faces but passing them over until he saw one that made his grin curve something sinister— from twenty-four karat to shit-eating. Glitter was pressed to his bare chest in the form of a hand mark: the signature of a partier that had been too eager at the moment, and one button on his already half-open shirt was lost to the sticky tiles of the club floor. Still, he slinked over with the ease of a jungle cat, languid and lean, curving into Rue’s side and pressing his mouth to the bare curve of her exposed throat. His words were warm against her flesh, nearly a purr against the spot that beat at the same speed as her heart. “Were you waiting for me?”