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“I shouldn’t,” I say, blowing out through my nose, “but sometimes you have to die a little before you can live, if you know what I mean.”
The blood drains from her face, and the way she closes her eyes like she’s in pain leaves me feeling guilty, like I made a stupid mistake.
“I need to go,” she mumbles, her legs wobble the moment she stands.
I rise as well. “Sure, let me help you.”
“No, I’m fine,” she says, walking to the car. Swaying a little, she almost falls.
I throw my cigarette on the ground and hold her up. “Man, how much did you have to smoke?”
“Smoke?” she asks, her voice shaking like her body.
“The marijuana, Shorty?”
“Nothing,” she whispers.
“Yeah, don’t bullshit a bullshitter.”
“Let me go, Hunter,” she says, throwing my jacket in my face and putting on her sunglasses. I take the car keys from her hands.
“Give them back.” There’s a threat in her voice.
“Done a lot of fucked up things in my life, but I’m not going to let you drive home still high as a kite.”
She crosses her arms in front of her, holding out her hand, standing her ground.
“Get in,” I order, motioning to the truck. “I’ll put my bike in the back.”
She hesitates and after another few seconds of our staring contest, she slowly hauls herself into the passenger seat, muttering under her breath.
I take the ramp out of the pickup and get my bike into the truck bed, fastening the straps around the wheels so it doesn’t slide. I hop in the truck as darkness sets. Fuck, how could we go from hot to ice cold in a matter of minutes?
“I promised Jay to keep my distance, but I’m taking you home, babe,” I mumble, putting the car in reverse.
“When you talk to Jay again, you can tell him to go fuck himself,” she snarls, getting all red in the face.
“That’s cute, Shorty,” I drawl, accelerating out of the parking lot and onto the highway, heading home.
“Fuck you, Hunter.”
“Man, you’re a roller coaster indeed,” I tell her, focusing on the cars in front of us. “So how many joints did you have?”
She throws her sunglasses on the dashboard, and there are tears in her eyes. I put my hand on her shoulder, lingering for a moment. Letting her go, my hand is on fire. I try to pay attention to the road again. “Believe me. I know how you feel,” I tell her, changing lanes.
“You have no idea,” she whispers, staring out the window. “No idea.”
