Cameron Diaz Smoking Novels & Stories

“I’m fine. I’m just a little tired and want to go back and rest.” In the parking lot of the clubhouse, Daniel pulled open the car door and sat inside. He did not start the engine immediately. Instead, he took out a cigarette and put it into his mouth. He lit it up and took two consecutive puffs. His brows were filled with melancholy. He held a cigarette in his left hand and took out his phone from his pocket with his right hand. He called Caleb. Half an hour later, Caleb rushed over only to have a phone thrown at him. “Check the authenticity of these photos.”

“With a side of wind-burn.” “Great for volumizing the hair though,” Jacinta joked as she tried to tame hers back into place. Rhett lit a cigarette crumpling the packet in his hand. “Want to share?” He offered it to Cameron. “No, you have it,” Cameron declined, knowing that Rhett didn’t really want to share, but was still trying to get on Cameron’s good side. Cameron wasn’t in the mood for cigarette’s anyway, his eyes on the sky searching for his father.

I pressed myself against the rough wall, holding my breath, and dared to peek around the edge. There he was. Damian, the sweet boy in my imaginations, the symbol of sunshine and justice, was casually flicking a silver lighter. He exhaled a thick, grey cloud of smoke, his eyes half-lidded. “Oh my god... Damian smokes?” I whispered to myself, my entire world tilting. To me, Damian was a god,pure, untouchable, perfect. Seeing him indulge in such a gritty, human habit felt like watching an icon shatter into dust.

It was dinner time, but when Daimon didn’t show up, James had gone searching — and here he was, sitting dangerously close to the edge. "Boss, your lungs can’t handle this much smoke. Please stop," James said anxiously, frowning as he glanced at the small mountain of cigarette butts scattered around Daimon’s feet. Without waiting for permission, James stepped forward and snatched the half-burnt cigarette from his fingers.

Damian started as he took out a cigarette from his pocket and placed it in between his lips before lighting it up. “Oh you this one? Well I'm sorry but I can't hand her over to you.. my clients are waiting for her to be delivered to them..” he grinned from ear to ear.. “You'll not sell her..” Damian dragged from his cigarette and puffed out smoke and I couldn't help but wonder why he was smoking in a situation like this.. Isn't he scared he might get attacked from behind? While he's busy acting like Tom Hanks. “ What makes you think so?” The old man raised an eyebrow and for some reason I felt like whatever Damian was gonna say next would definitely cause a commotion.

“Should quit smoking.” Ridiculously, he could withstand the scent of death, but not this one. “Come on, where’s the fun in that?” Ignoring his twin’s reproach, Damon turns his back on him and throws the newly lit cigarette into the rain. “I’m not going to donate the other half of my lungs if ever yours get rotten.” Davien only laughed at the background, and not a second later, he heard the lighter sparking up another stick. Of course, he had a box of it inside his pocket.

If this man was connected to last night, that was something he needed to know. He kept a careful distance, ducking behind a pillar when one of them glanced back, pressing himself flat against the wall at the corner of the Old Wing. He peered around the edge. Damian had his back against the wall. His head was tilted slightly upward, eyes half-closed. One hand raised to his lips. A cigarette. Smoke curling lazily into the cold morning air. "Oh my god, Damian smokes?" Leon whispered to himself. Before Leon could even make sense of what he was seeing, the other guy took a slow drag from his cigarette and raised an eyebrow, almost amused.

“Gwen’s here too!” Camila said through tears of joy. “Carly’s going to make it through this—I just know she will!” Zion said nothing. He took a long drag from his cigarette, only to burst into a harsh coughing fit. “Cough—cough—” Camila quickly rushed over to pat his back. “Stop smoking already. Isn’t the worst over? Things are getting better now. What else do you have to worry about?” “What do you know?” Zion rasped. He shoved her hand away, clearly in no mood to talk.

“Don't go anywhere, I'd be right back.” We walked through the hospital corridors without speaking. The elevators took us up. When the doors opened onto the rooftop access, the air changed. It was cooler, thinner, carrying the distant sound of the city below. Damian pushed the door open and stepped out onto the concrete. He let out a breath before pulling a cigarette from his pocket, he lit it, and took a long and slow drag before blowing. Smoke drifted up into the night. He glanced at me before holding the cigarette out toward me.

He stood there, puffing his cigar with small smoke rings emitting to the top of the elevator. "So how are you gentlemen today, hmm?" He asked. "Anything I can get you boys? Drinks, women, cigar?" I shook my head vigorously. "I'm alright, Giovanni." I told him quietly. Diaz offered Mario a cigar, and Mario took one, placing it in his pocket. "So how are you, Diaz? Any new jobs for Mario and I?"