Hailee Steinfeld Smoking Novels & Stories

“I’ve never smoked before…” She leaned into his firm arms and stayed in his embrace. Weston had always enjoyed having her in his arms. He loved the feeling of having her in his embrace. He watched as the wind messed up her hair, and he tidied her messy hair with one hand. “Smoking isn’t good. You shouldn’t do it.” Stella was upset. She looked up and rested her chin on his shoulder. “Didn’t you just smoke too? Why do you get to smoke, but I don’t…”

“Delete the photos. Now. Or your dear parents will find out what you do after university.” She laughs nervously, but I don’t blink. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about.” “I’m sure they’ll love to know that their perfect daughter smokes weed every day and snorts cocaine in secret.” Her eyes widen. The crowd of girls around us lets out low gasps. Lexie tries to speak, but the words die in her throat. “Delete the photos now,” I whisper, and she blinks, staring at me in shock. I smile, seeing the fear in her eyes.

Hailee breathed, moving away. With her arms, Hailee wrapped her tense body as she went to stand by the window, gazing out on the wall of security now cordoning off the property: men with cellphones and radio transmitters, some with big, ugly-looking dogs on strong looking leashes. A laugh broke from her, thick with scorn. “You’re putting quite a show for the press and your followers,” Hailee scoffed. “Do you honestly think anyone will be fooled by it?” “Not you, obviously!”

So Haley did the only thing that made sense. She went live. "Haley," Katherine said through comms with the deadly calm of someone managing seventeen disasters and adding an eighteenth to a spreadsheet, "explain why I am seeing your face on every public channel." Haley adjusted the cracked phone camera, wiped blood from her cheek, and smiled at two billion, four hundred million viewers. "Because myth feeds on recognition, and I am about to ruin its branding." Aaliyah made a sound like a woman watching arson become art. "I support this felony."

she asked, not sure whether or not she cared. "Nah. He has his concerns with American audiences seeing you smoke marijuana on camera. But TLC is edgy enough that if we do it in the right context, I think it'll pass," he said. "I told him to trust you…I do! And I think you can pull this off without looking like Lindsey Lohan on holiday." "Wow. Thanks for your vote of confidence," she quipped. "Any time," he laughed. "So, how about we go find someplace to sit and discuss ideas. I have a few but I'd like to hear yours."

He goes up the gets a piece of the cigar, lighting it up with his golden-coated lighter. I don’t smoke for almost a year, but it always makes me stressed out so bad. He insisted his self to blow some smoke. He finally let it out in the thin air letting his stress go out with the cigarette smoke. He picks up his phone then stalks Keesha Monteverde on Instagram. When she looks at her public story, he sighs that she is wearing a beautiful dress that she will wear at the big event. Caleb goes to the veranda then looks at the aerial view of his own mansion.

I pin her with a stare as I slowly blow the smoke into Stasia’s open mouth. Stasia sucks in the smoke greedily and Vienna’s eyes slide to the girl on my lap, nose wrinkling. Her face is an unreadable mask, but I see a glimmer of something resembling disgust cross her features as she looks away, lifting her beer and taking a sip. So fucking casual that I’d almost think she didn’t care if I hadn’t seen those swirls of bronze in her eyes while she was watching me feed Stasia my smoke.

Except, she was reminded as the baby did a flip-flop within her, probably impatient for the blood she held in her hand, she wasn’t precisely built for speed or power at the moment. “Hey,” Rhett glanced over his shoulder at her and then remembered the cigarette he held. “Fuck,” he dropped it and stamped it out before waving his arms to disperse the smoke. “Don’t be an idiot,” she laughed as she stepped through the smoke to lean against the handrail close to his side. “Talen says vampires don’t get fucked up by smoking. What’s the bet, hybrids, even pregnant ones, aren’t affected by it either. Plus, we’re outside and I’m upwind. Have another fucking smoke seeing as you wasted half of that one.

he said, with a little disgust. "Why, is that a deal-breaker for you? Oh well, guess you'll have to find yourself another girl to obsess over then, because yup, I smoke like a chimney." "No, you don't. Why lie to me? I'd have smelled it on you before." "Fine, since you have such an amazing sense of smell, I don't smoke. Well, I didn't, but now I don't know. I started after Kyle cheated on me, broke my heart, and turned all my friends and the entire school against me. Now I just smoke when I'm upset, or stressed out," I replied honestly.

Haylee finds me at the kitchen island as two bartenders shake martinis in tandem and the room vibrates on my favorite bassline. She’s poured into a scarlet dress that looks amazing. iPad in one hand, bubbles in the other. “No media within the perimeter,” she reports. “Two lifestyle photographers inside. We are live streaming all the good bits.” “Perfect. Now stop working and let’s dance.” “Lastly… Security has turned away six ambitious nobodies, two ex-boyfriends of somebody, and a woman who said she was your spiritual advisor.” “Interesting,” I say. “Original. No Hale connections trying to infiltrate?”