Page 27 of Lost Boy
“Here.” Ryder shoves his hand into his pocket, pulling out a small baggie of weed and a wrap. “Cole said to give this to you. On him.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, not admitting that I’m completely stoned. I pocket it for later, and gaze into oblivion.
The night is dark, but the moon is high and bright. The twinkling stars, unobstructed by city life, reflect off the calm, gentle waters of Acadia Lake. The massive body of water is surrounded by tall redwoods and steep cliffs.
Ryder seems lost to his own thoughts, until he turns to me abruptly. “Hey. Ignore those assholes, okay?”
“Okay,” I respond. I already did, but Ryder is upset, so I let him continue.
“What they said is bullshit. Don’t ever listen to that and don’t ever let it bring you down.”
He’s so passionate I can hardly tell him I’m numb most days and don’t feel anything.
“You are pretty, though,” he blurts out.
My eyes widen in shock before he quickly corrects himself. “I mean, you’re really attractive, Blue.” Ryder runs his hand through those thick, soft-looking curls.
My breath hitches at his words, unsure where we’re going to take this, but knowing if and when we do, it can’t be on Cole’s deck in the middle of a party. Even as drunk and high as I am, I know this. My dick pulses in my pants just thinking about it. So, when Ryder leans into me, his bigger frame crowding my smaller one into the railing and his lips nearing mine, I dodge him and slip under his arm.
He would regret it later when it ruins basketball for him.
Is he even gay?
“I need some water,” I declare, slipping back into the house and into the throng of inebriated teenagers dancing and partying. The beat of the music threatens to break through the haze and make me feel again. My fingers twitch with the need to write something.
* * *
I’m seeing double, and I can’t find Ryder. I trail my hand along the wall, knocking into the picture frames and decorations, as I stumble down the upstairs hallway, searching for a place to rest.
This isn’t good at all. I’m not sure if I picked up the wrong drink, or someone slipped me something when I wasn’t looking, or if I’m just this fucking drunk right now.
It doesn’t feel normal, though. Maybe the weed was laced. The funny after-taste from the blunt comes back to me, and I’m sure that’s it.
This is different from the numbness. This feels like sedation as I trek through quicksand, desperate to get to the other side.
My eyes are heavy as I push into what I think is an empty bedroom to lie down and gather my spinning head, but someone’s already in there. “Sorry,” I mumble, slowly backing away and looking down so I don’t accidentally see anyone hooking up.
There’s a small muffled whimper and some rustling that sounds like a struggle. My eyes instantly dart up, and I strain to bring the image before me into focus.
“Sofie?” I ask, my drunk and high brain unsure if I’m hallucinating. The quiet cry I get in return spurs me into motion, and I rush the guy pressing her to the wall and clock him on the side of the head with the textbook I grab from the desk as I run by. She slips away and scrambles behind me, grabbing onto my T-shirt.
This guy is way bigger than both of us. I’m not even much taller than Sofie.
“Sofie! Get Ryder, now!” I holler at her over my shoulder, trying to snap her out of the shock.
The distraction is my downfall, and Sofie’s eyes widen just as I turn right into a nasty sucker punch to the side of my head. I stumble sideways, the force of the unexpected blow knocking me into the wall with a heavy thud. My legs give out, and I slide down, unable to hold myself up anymore. Sofie screams, and I think the sound might haunt me until the end of time.
“Get Ryder,” I tell her again through my darkening vision, but she’s sobbing.
“Dustin. Stop it, please. Don’t hurt him. You’re drunk. I said I’ll go out with you!”
“Like hell she will,” I sneer through bloody teeth to the wannabe sexual predator above me. My mouth tastes like copper, and I’m losing focus.
“Sofie, please,” I beg, and I know she finally listens when I hear her heels tapping as she runs out of the room and down the hall to her brother.
Dustin chuckles menacingly, his dark eyes unfeeling. “I’ll pop that beautiful little cherry, eventually,” he slurs cruelly, squatting down and getting right in my face. “After I take all of her other firsts too. We have a date planned.”
“You’re disgusting,” I tell him, then gather all the bloody spit in my mouth and launch it directly into his face, landing right on his cheek.
