Page 2 of His Virgin Romance Series

I smiled. “You’re not going to write me a ticket?”

“I’ll let you off this one time,” Manolo said. “But you’re going to need to get that light fixed—as soon as possible.”

“It’s done,” I said.

“Good to see you, Jared.”

“Great to see you, Manolo,” I said, as I waved him off. “And thanks for doing me this solid.”

“Take care of yourself, Jared. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”

“Yep.”

The moment Manolo’s car had driven away, I scrambled for Brent’s coat and pulled out the package that had fallen out earlier. It felt light in my hand and instinct was telling me what I had. I pulled the package out of the brown paper and stared at the bag of pot.

“That fucking idiot,” I hissed under my breath.

If Manolo had caught this on me, I was pretty certain he wouldn’t have turned a blind eye. My whole sordid past came up in front of me, and I saw the work it had taken to distance myself from that kind of life. I knew that Brent wasn’t necessarily on the same path that I was, but I assumed he had at least a little common sense. He hadn’t even told me that he had pot in his jacket.

I hid the pot and started driving again. The whole way there, I kept thinking back to my childhood. I remembered staring down towards the living room from the staircase after dad had stumbled in from a night out with his friends. I saw her silhouette in the far corner of my memory, but she had long dissolved into shadows that no longer had any real shape or features.

Sometimes when I concentrated really hard, I could recall Paul sitting next to me on the staircase. But more often than not, I was the only one watching, a confused five-year-old boy who didn’t understand why everyone in his life was so unhappy.

I pulled up outside Brent’s apartment and headed inside, making sure to take his coat with me. As I walked down the hallway to his apartment, I transferred the bag of pot from his jacket pocket to mine. I knocked twice when I reached his door.

“Come in!” Brent yelled from inside. “It’s open.”

I walked inside where he was lying on his couch with both his legs kicked up on the table in front of him. He had a beer in hand and no shirt on.

“You brought my coat?” he asked immediately.

“It’s right here,” I said, throwing it over to him. “Excuse me for a second. Need to pee.”

I disappeared into his bathroom and got out the bag of pot, which I proceeded to throw down the toilet. I was just about to flush when I heard Brent outside the bathroom door.

“Hey, Jared?” he called.

“Yeah?”

“Uh…did you…was there…something in my jacket that you maybe left behind?”

I rolled my eyes and flushed. Then I walked back outside and fixed him with a glare. “You mean the bag of pot in your front pocket?”

“Fuck,” he said, smiling at me with a half-assed expression of guilt on his face. “Found it, did you?”

“Yeah, I found it,” I said, unable to keep the irritation from my voice. “I found it at the perfect time, too…just when I had been pulled over by a cop.”

“Fuck!” Brent said, his eyes going wide. “They took my pot?”

“Is that all you’re concerned about?” I asked. “Seriously?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, sounding clueless.

“I could have been arrested, you realize,” I said. “I’m a fucking firefighter. I could be fired if I’m brought up on charges of drug possession.”

“It was just pot,” Brent said flippantly.

“Still a drug, numbskull,” I said, pushing him out of my way as I headed over to the couch. “And still illegal. I can’t believe you’re still using.”

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