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“Here you go,” Josh says, his voice loud as if I can’t hear him.
I frown. I hear perfectly fine. Why doesn’t he get that? He hands me a glass of brown fizzy liquid. Soda. I nod and smile and he encourages me to scoot over so he can join me on the beanbag. He squishes against me. I’m not prepared for the sudden contact, so my insides squirm, hairs on my arm standing up like a frightened cat.
Remember the goal. I’m here for a casual hookup, and then I’ll never see this nauseating, smelly, smoky place again. I touch his thigh to show interest, like Amber said, and so he knows that touching me is okay. He responds by putting his arm around my shoulder. Even though I’m mentally okay with his closeness, I struggle to relax. Maybe it’s the place, or maybe I need to get familiar with his touch. Whatever the reason, worms crawl under my skin and my whole body wants to shake him off.
Deep breaths. I can go to the bathroom for a break or leave if this all becomes too intense.
Josh takes a long sip from his cup. There’s alcohol on his breath. “Tell me about yourself, Paige. Do you work?”
I nod as I pull out my phone.
One of his friends glances at my phone but quickly loses interest.
“What’s that all about?” Josh asks.
“Oh, no shit? Hey, Dave,” he says and the Green Arrow guy turns his head. “You still have that box of comics?”
“Wha?” Dave responds.
“Remember that guy who couldn’t pay and he gave us some box of old comics?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Dave says. He sounds half-asleep. “Maybe closet.”
Josh takes my hand. “Let’s go check it out.”
His hand is icy from holding his cup. More worms dance under my skin. Why is he making me feel so squirmy? I’ll need to be on top when we have sex so I can manage the sensations enough to focus.
Deep breaths.
We reach a closet in a dim hallway and he flings the door open. After a minute of rummaging, he lifts a box and walks to a nearby bedroom. I follow, careful not to twist my ankle in Amber’s wedges.
“Check this out,” he says as he sits on the bed, box on his lap.
The room is like the previous one except there are a lot more lava lamps. Ash and green crumbles dust the bed. My stomach churns. We’re going to fuck on that? There’s nothing worse than dirty sheets. Well, not literally, because there are many, many worse things in the world. Dirty sheets are simply really, really terrible.
He hands me a water-damaged copy of Spider Woman #1 from 1978—the original, not a reprint. The pages are yellow and crinkly. Some are ripped. Lots of water spots. It smells like mold and the back cover is missing.
“What’s that worth?” Josh asks.
It could’ve been worth $60 if someone took care of it.
“Ah, sweet. How about this one?” He hands me Micronauts #8 as Dave appears in the doorway.
“Hey, guys. Wanna hit?” Dave says, lifting the bong in his hands. “Brownies are done.”
“What do you think, Paige?” Josh asks. He reaches around my shoulders again and squeezes me against his side. “It’ll help you relax. You seem kinda tense.”
Yeah, super tense.
I stare at the bong. I’ve never tried weed or any drugs besides alcohol. Since I’m sensitive, I’m careful about what I ingest.
Josh takes the bong from Dave. “Nah. It’ll mellow you out. Trust me.”
“Yeah. This is perfectly safe.” He flashes a reassuring grin, eyes warm and gentle.
