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“Actually, no.”
She hands me a lighter from her pocket. “It’s okay, I have one. Want to do the honors?”
“I feel like I’m from a 1940s film noir movie, lighting your cigarette for you,” I say, flicking the lighter and holding the flame in front of her as she inhales. “Like I’m Humphrey Bogart and you’re Lauren Bacall or something.”
She giggles. “I barely know who those people are.”
My mouth opens in mock-offense. “Come on, I’m notthatmuch older than you.”
Ava takes a drag, the tip of the joint glowing orange. “Tell me more about the 1940s. What was it like back then? Did you fight in World War II?”
I laugh. “Oh, no, they only drafted the young bucks. I was much too old. The last war I fought in, we were using rocks and clubs.”
“Yeah, and riding to battle on a dinosaur, right?”
“Right. My favorite was the Triceratops.”
“Not the T-Rex?”
“Nah. Too nippy.”
Ava hands me the joint. I hold it warily, watching smoke trail from the tip.
“It won’t bite, you know,” she says, looking amused. “Just start slow. I got way more stoned than I expected to when I was smoking with Isabella at the wedding.”
She means the wedding where we met in the orchard, I realize. The day I got made. How far away that feels.
Okay, here goes nothing. I put the joint to my lips and inhale, coughing as the smoke hits my lungs.
“There you go,” she says, patting my back and taking the joint back from me. “Let’s see how that treats you.”
I allow the remaining smoke to trail out of my mouth, almost like a ghost. “Tastes nice.”
“Yeah, apparently Talbot smokes the good stuff. Makes sense, considering the briefcase full of cash.”
My mind jumps to the BCU admissions officer, lying on the floor of the apartment while we sit on his balcony, smoking his weed and drinking his beer. A laugh escapes me, and once it starts, it doesn’t stop.
“What’s so funny?” asks Ava, taking another hit. “Somebody got the giggles?”
I can’t even get the words out. Objectively, I can’t really defend the situation being funny enough to justify laughing like this, but it doesn’t seem to matter right now. The giggles have a life of their own.
Ava watches me, and soon she’s laughing at the fact that I’m laughing. “You are so adorable,” she says, putting her head on my shoulder. “Oh my god. I’m so glad I got you high.”
“That’s a new one,” I choke out, getting control of myself.
“What is?”
“‘Adorable.’ Pretty sure I’ve never been called that before.”
“Not even when you were a kid?”
I scowl. “Definitely not.”
“That’s sad.”
Is it? It never occurred to me to think about it that way. Also, we arenottalking about my childhood. That topic would make her pity me, want to comfort me, bring us closer. I’m not doing that.
“The city lights look amazing,” is what I end up saying, staring at the skyline in the fading evening light. “Are they always this bright and colorful?”
