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I wait for a beat before hitching my pinkie with him. “All right, I swear.”
We’re still holding each other’s pinkies as he says, “So, you’re down?”
“Yep.” Then, before I can chicken out, I take the joint from him, inhale, and then …
I nearly cough up a damn lung.
“Oh my God, that burns,” I hack, patting my chest.
He’s trying not to laugh at me, and I glare at him.
“Stop laughing at me,” I warn, my eyes still watering.
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes with zero sincerity. “You’re just so fucking cute sometimes.”
“I’m cute because I hacked after taking a hit?” I question dubiously.
He nods then takes the joint from me, putting the end to his lips and inhaling another drag.
As he exhales, I grab the joint from him and try again. This time, I’m less caught off guard by the burn and manage not to cough as much.
We pass the joint back and forth a few more times before Reece pauses with a contemplative look. “You wanna try shot-gunning it?” he asks in a cautious tone.
“Sure,” I reply, my head a bit foggy. “Wait—how do we do that?”
He laughs and mumbles something about me being cute again. “I’ll take a drag, hold it in, then inhale it in your mouth.”
I crinkle my nose. “That seems kind of weird, right?”
He stares down at the joint in his hand. “We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”
“No … I want to try it. I just … If I have bad breath, you have to promise not to tease me.”
He bites back a smile. “All right, bestie, I promise.”
All his humor fades as he places the joint to his lips, inhales, and holds it in as he leans toward me. He also takes a step closer so our bodies are flushed and places a hand on my waist. A shaky breath fumbles from my lips as his mouth nears mine.
When I agreed to do this, I didn’t really think about how we’d almost be kissing, but that’s exactly what happens, our lips brushing as he exhales the smoke into my mouth.
I clutch his sides as I inhale, my heart beating wildly.
Reece slants back as I exhale, coughing just once this time.
He stares at me with his glassy eyes. “You feel good?” he asks softly.
I bob my head up and down then loop my arms around the back of his neck. “I do. Thank you, Reece.” I hug him, which is something we do frequently.
What doesn’t typically happen, though, is that Reece breathes in my hair and releases a soft groan.
“Are you okay?” I whisper as I play with strands of his hair at the nape of his neck.
“I’m fucking perfect,” he mumbles, hugging me a little bit longer before slanting back. “You ready to go party?” He waggles his eyebrows at me.
I laugh, and the noise is tranquil music to my ears.
It’s amazing how Reece can always make me feel this way, no matter how down I get. He’s always been able to drag me out of the darkness. Sometimes I wonder if I didn’t have him in my life, if all I’d ever see is that.
Consuming and hopeless darkness.
