(extension of In the Words of John Green)

The blonde girl was on the bench every day. She always asks for a breath of my cigarette, even though she sputters and coughs every time. I should ask her if she has a death wish, but that would imply that I care about her, and I don't have room in my 'life of lonely' for another person. I find that it defeats the purpose. 

She is late today. I take a slow breath of my cigarette and pretend to not care. I realize that there is no point in pretending if I am the one I am lying to. I start to wonder if I will finish the cigarette by myself. It seems to be too much. A whole breath that didn't belong to me. The sun dips below the trees, casting a dramatic shadow over the park. The last few people leave.

The ember of my cigarette singes my fingers. I realize I am holding it for her. I drop the cigarette, but I don't put it out. I watch it smolder on the concrete base of the bench. Maybe she is sick or just couldn't come today. I catch myself. Worrying, not panicking. I don't panic. I never panic.

My stomach twists as my thoughts grow more paranoid. I wish I knew her name. I wonder if I can check in the hospital for a 'naive blonde'. They'd probably ask me to leave.

I start to stand when my feel a dainty hand on my wrist.

I don't turn. I know it's her. I take a minute to savor the calming reassurance of her warmth, seeping through her fingers. The park is empty and the sun was setting, layering the world with an orange glow. 

I turned to the girl. She was wearing a white dress that looked more like a giant tee shirt with a hem at the waist. She smiled. Her hair was perfect and glowing in the dim light. Perfect. I never used that word anymore.

"Sorry, I'm late. Family issues." She loosened her grip on my wrist. I look down at our hands. My stomach summersaults. Should I try to hold hers? Would that be too forward?

"What kind?" I ask, prying my eyes back to her face. She laughs and takes a step closer. I press my back against the bench. She doesn't seem to notice.

"The boring kind. They were mad at me because I keep leaving the house. So I left,"  She replies, leaning closer. She has an odd smile on her. One that doesn't fit quite right. It is wrong. Too bubbly and careless.

Her grip tightens again as she pulls me around to the bench. She presses her body close to mine. I would pull away but the sun was already gone, leaving the park dark and cold. Her heat was very welcomed. I mentally shake my head. Lying to myself. Two times today.

Neither of us talks for the longest time. We just sit. She puts her head on my shoulder, slowly as if I might run away when startled. I smile. I wrap my arm around her shoulder. I can feel her eyelashes brushing against my jaw when she blinks. 

"Do you ever feel like running away?" She asks. I take a moment to consider her tone. Serious. No smile. No childlike innocence. A solid, serious question. A question I realize I have to answer.

"Yeah. All the time," I say. A heat rises to my face. What am I doing? Sitting on a bench, late at night, arm wrapped around a not-so-stranger. I can feel her shifting.

She looks up at me. I can bearly see the outlines of her face, but I can tell that her eyes are wide.

"Would you like to run away with me?" She asks. Flashed of what could happen next play in my head at once. Yes, more than anything. I'd love to run away with you. I want to say that. I don't know why. I don't even know her name.

All of the sudden I'm itching for a cigarette. I feel her hand on my knee. More comforting than the last time she did it to me. Much more. I feel like melting.

I don't care what we do. I just want to be with you. She smiles like she knows what I'm thinking. She probably does. She wraps her arms around my waist and nuzzles her head under my arm.

"Can I run to you?" She asks. My face feels hot. I hope she isn't looking at me. I open my mouth, unsure of what I'm going to say.

"Yeah. Definitely."

It hangs in the air for an awkward moment. Was that too much? I could feel my pulse quickening. I was losing my cool over one cute girl. One cute girl that I've known for a few months and still haven't learned her name.

"Starting now?" She asks. I can hear the desperation. It almost makes me calmer. She is probably just as panicked as me. No. I am not panicked. I am... flustered.

"Starting now," I reply. She sinks back into my body, molding perfectly. Perfect, again.

"Starting now," She hums. I can feel her smile. I hold her tighter and ignore the fact that this ruins my life of lonely. Maybe it is okay. Maybe it is time to move on. To run away.