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I chuckle, knowing he’s drunk. “For sure.”
After he steps away, he assesses me. “Something’s off about you.”
I instantly think of the wall around me. Could he be saying that because it’s down now? But, if that’s the case, then wouldn’t he have been able to see it to begin with?
Is Gage not huma
n?
That idea quickly evacuates my brain when he laughs and says, “Oh, I know why. It’s because you’re not drunk yet.” He snags ahold of my hand and drags me over to the table that holds an array of drinks.
After he mixes me one, he pours a drink for himself. “Cheers.” He taps his cup against mine, and I can’t help laughing as he spills some all over his boots and the floor.
Shrugging it off with a laugh, he downs a large mouthful then waits for me to do the same. Part of me doesn’t want to drink, is worried that, with everything going on, I shouldn’t. But when thunder rumbles from outside, reminding me of reality, I decide to hell with it and down a large gulp.
Once we’ve both finished our drinks, Gage tosses our cups into the garbage then glances around. “What should we do next?”
I look around at the rowdy crowd. “Where’s Nina?”
Gage lifts his shoulders. “Probably up in one of the bedrooms with Logan.”
I pull a face. “Grey’s friend?”
Gage offers me an apologetic look. “Sorry, but you know how she can get.”
“Yeah, she thinks with her vagina, not her head,” I say, jolting as a loud boom of thunder reverberates through the house.
Since I’m slightly buzzed and feeling somewhat content, I’m surprised I’m setting off a storm. Maybe another drink will help. Or maybe …
“You know, I brought a couple of those joints you gave me,” I tell Gage, knowing I might be heading down a path of self-destruction, but right now, I’m too confused, lost, worried, scared—a hundred different things—to care.
He points a finger at me, a devious smile curling at his lips. “I like the way you think.”
I grin back, though I feel anything but happy. Still, I act the part as Gage and I go back to the extra bedroom and light up.
A few inhales in, and I’m feeling pretty numb inside, although the storm hasn’t calmed down yet.
“So, what’s life like at your new home?” Gage asks, passing me the joint.
We’re stretched out on the bed with our feet in opposite directions, our heads side by side.
“It’s … weird.” I take a hit and hand it back.
“Weird how?”
“I don’t know … Just weird.”
“You’re not making very much sense, hon.” He rolls over onto his stomach with the joint pinched between his fingers and looks down at me. “They’re not treating you shitty, are they?”
I shake my head. “No, not really. Most of them are nice. Well, except for Foster. But he’s … I don’t know.” I frown, or more like pout, when I realize I can’t tell him much more than that.
Smoke snakes around his face as he studies me. “Did you ever figure out who that guy was that approached you yesterday? And why he gave you a blank card?”
I shake my head. Through all the craziness that has been happening, I completely forgot about that guy.
“Why do you ask?” I wonder, taking the joint from him.
He shrugs, then flips back onto his back. “I was just curious … I mean, you act like these people you’re living with are weird and that guy said that stuff about them …” He shrugs, staring up at the ceiling.
