“Yes!” I laugh out. “They contain five milligrams of THC each. Why, did you house those, too?” I wipe the tears leaking from my eyes as Julian’s hands slowly slip down my arms, then fall off completely.
He nods once, tight. Terrified.
My eyebrows rise. “Oh. Shit. How many?”
“I don’t remember,” he moans.
“Okay.” I force excess chill into my words, my demeanor, my vibe. Last thing Julian needs is to see me panic. “How much money did you put down on the table?”
“Fifty dollars.”
“Oh, boy,” I say softly. Fifty dollars’ worth of edibles, eaten all at once, would be a one-way ticket to space for experienced users. And Julian’s a total baby. Whatever he’s feeling now is just the beginning.
I do not tell him this.
“You’re going to be fine.” I pat him on the shoulder lamely. “You need some food and water, and then sleep. You’ll be back to normal in the morning.”
“I’m not going to befine! I can’t get those brain cells back, Nomi! Oh, God, no wonder I’ve felt so good—I’m stoned! I’m addicted already, I can tell!” Julian shoves Big Bird at me, then bolts upright to his feet. “I’ve got to call my advisor! Or is he here?” Julian frowns for a second, then looks down at the party below. “ERIC?!” he screams at the lawn.
“Julian, whoa—wait a minute, let me help—”
“You did this on purpose, didn’t you? You probably think it’s hilarious!” Julian sways out of my reach, seemingly oblivious that we’re on a roof, and takes a step back. “You stay away from me, Nomi Wyeth! You and your—your baked goods!”
“Jesus, hold on to something! Julian,no!” I reach for him, but he’s already stumbling backward. A surge of horror floods my entire system as I watch his arms windmill by his sides for one terrible second before he falls, ass first, off my roof.
CHAPTER EIGHT
JULIAN
Screams.
“Was that Julian D’Asshole?”
I wake up slowly in Nomi’s big, scratchy bush.
The irony. Icackle.
“Julie?! You okay, bro?” Marco hovers over me with a worried brow.
“Um. Maybe?” I squint my eyes, but there’s only one of him. No neuro trauma, that’s good. “Can you pull me out of here? I’m trapped—” Agiggleescapes my mouth.
I’ve never giggled in my life. It happensagain.
“—in Nomi’s giantbush.”
Marco’s face cracks into a luminous, relieved grin. “He’s fine, everybody!” The party cheers as my cousins partition me into thirds, Marco grabbing me by the armpits, Aldo by the ankles, and Ellio stuck with my ass to lift me from the overgrown hedge that saved my life. I contract muscle by muscle, starting with my toes and working my way up, testing for injury as I’ve instructed a thousand different patients. When I squeeze my butt cheeks, Ellio curses and nearly drops me. I cackle again. Our ridiculous D’Angelo quartet collectively stumbles, bringing us all to the ground.
“I’m sorry for squeezing my butt cheeks, bro,” I say as contritely as I can, which isn’t very because I’m howling with laughter. “That probably felt really weird.”
“Yeah, man.” Ellio laughs uncomfortably. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Oh, I ate fifty dollars and am becoming my father!” I explain, still howling. “I’m doomed!” I push up to sitting, and my arm twinges, then goes strangely numb. I check to make sure it’s still there.
It is! I smile happily and hug it to my chest.
“You’re gonna be fine, buddy.” Marco eases up to standing, brushing the dirt off the knees of his Armani Exchange jeans. I bet he hated getting them dirty, but he did it, for me. Warmth radiates through my entire chest, but thenNomiappears, like a tiny golden fairy, and pushes through the crowd.
“Julian! Are you hurt?” She falls to her knees and runs her hands frantically down my arms, over my shoulders, up both sides of my neck. Each point of contact between her and me sends a pleasurable web of sensation jolting through my nervous system. “You’re bleeding—you’re all scratched up!”
