Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 98992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
“I immediately rushed to replace it with another.”
--
“Let’s smoke,” Morgan, Bambi’s best friend – who also happens to be significantly more attractive - anxiously says to Thomas, one of their best friends from the nearby public school, the second he locks the front door to her house.
“Alright,” the dude – that looks exactly like Slater from Dazed and Confused – shrugs as he approaches where me and Bambi are sitting in Morgan’s downstairs living room. “Bong?”
“No,” the tiny pain in my ass loudly whines. “I always fuck that up.”
Morgan giggles at the same time drops down onto the floor, so that we're all siting around the glass coffee table. “That shit is so fuckin’ sad.”
“You know I’m clumsy.” Bambi turns her poked out expression to Thomas. “Roll it?”
“I’ll take care of you, baby,” Thomas smoothly insists with a smile that should rev up jealousy of some kind, but it doesn’t.
I can’t even muster up the energy to fake giving a fuck about her.
Especially not after touching Pres again.
Fuck, I can damn near feel her still on my fingers.
“You smoke, dude?”
I don’t realize the question is directed at me until Bambi’s fat elbow is in my side. At that point, I look up from my slightly tattered uniform school pants and ask, “What?”
“You smoke, dude?” he repeats while pulling out a glass container filled with what I imagine is weed.
“Never tried.”
“Ohmygoddddd, you’ll fucking love it,” Bambi giggles before leaning over to kiss my cheek.
With no response, I stare as Thomas starts his impressive process. I intently watch as he meticulously gathers the product. Spreads it out. Carefully rolls what he keeps calling Kush into the thin white paper. Listening to him explain the differences between strains is fascinating. I absorb everything I can about what to smoke for a better high, what to expect to pay for it, and what to be weary of when smoking up at parties. All of the information alone is like its own drug that almost distracts me from watching him light the finished product. He doesn’t waste time inhaling yet takes his time savoring. He passes it to Morgan who repeats the behavior. I watch as Morgan takes a hit, girlishly giggles, and passes it to Bambi. I watch as her two lips suck like a pro before she uses her stubby fingers to pass it to me.
“Come on, Collins,” Thomas encourages while leaning back onto his palms. “Hit that shit. It’ll make you forget about all that bullshit that bothers you.”
And fuck me, there’s so much bullshit that fucking bothers me.
Being here bothers me.
Being surrounded by smoke instead of the smell of oranges from Presley’s favorite hand soap bothers me.
Knowing there’s a good fucking chance that I’ll never have that smell in my life again bothers me.
Thinking that someone else who isn’t me will, fucking bothers me.
I put the joint between my lips like I watched them do, close my eyes, and do exactly what they did.
I replace the pain from the ruined moment in the hallway, the pain from wondering if the guy Pres's dating is kissing her or touching her, the pain from my parents nagging, the pain from my teacher’s nagging, the pain from not being able to stop fucking up again and again in every aspect of my goddamn life with a sweet soothing sensation of serenity. Not nearly as amazing as the one I used to get being around my girl, but enough to make it okay that I’m not there now.
“That’s some good shit, right?” Thomas questions taking it from me. “I only smoke the good shit. And I’m learning to only grow the great shit.”
--
“Man, he wasn’t fucking wrong…” I sigh, the back of my head hitting the wall. “He did smoke some good shit. It was smooth and easy, like fresh, wet, shaven pussy. It was. Always. Perfect.”
Doc doesn’t question or comment on my comment.
“After we got high, Bambi and I went into Morgan’s room and had sex for the first time.”
“It was your first time in years.”
“Yeah.”
“And your first time together.”
“Yeah.”
“And you were high.”
“Now, you’re just going to state obvious things?” The cigarette imitation dangles from my lips. “You running out of material already, Doc?”
Amusement still refuses to appear in his glare.
“Yes.” Returning to a serious nature, I add, “The first time I had sex with Bambi I was high. And every time we had sex after that until the day we broke up, I was high for it as well.”
“You never had sex with her sober?”
“No. Not...Not actual sex. Just fooling around shit. Always hit the bong or the blunt, first. Lied and said it would make the shit better.”
“However, you and Blue Dream never-”
“No,” I cut him off before he can continue. “I told you that already. The other shit we did was enough. I loved her. That was enough. I meant it when I said it to her. I mean it when I’m fucking saying it to you now.”