“When did you start smoking?” I held up one of the plastic cigarette pack wrappers.
“It’s like a pack a month.” She pulled out a soft pack with two bent cigarettes in it. “I only smoke when I’m nervous.” Bianca looked for her lighter while I rolled down the window. Cool air seeped in, we shivered, and I turned the heat up a notch. Late fall in Buffalo, from one extreme to the other in a matter of hours. The only surprising thing would be seeing the first snowflakes of the season drifting to the ground.
“Is Harvey even working today?” Bianca found her lighter, a plain Zippo, and tried to light the cigarette and talk at the same time. “I call his latte if he’s not.”
“He said he is. I doubt he’d call in.” Even if all he did was sling thrifted clothes and books, my boyfriend’s job trumped whatever else I did in a day.
“What a nerd.” Bianca blew out the lighter’s flame. “Screw this. I don’t even want one.”