Page 53 of Lost Boy
I’m not sure I can handle another person I care about leaving. My smile falters, and I let the numbness settle back in, doing my business in a rush and leaving even quicker.
“Hey! Where are you going? What happened in there?”
Drunk Ryder is a little pushy, apparently.
“Nowhere and nothing.” I need some air and to smoke something after re-upping with Cole earlier.
I push through the crowd of drunk teenagers dancing in Cole’s living room, the music testing the limits of my eardrums. I lose Ryder as I weave through people, taking advantage of my smaller size. I escape to the back patio, the party now a muffled cacophony pulsing through the walls.
The rain is coming down in heavy sheets, but there’s a large covered porch with comfortable-looking furniture, a kitchen area with a massive grill, and a hot tub. There are even a couple of space heaters.
I’m on a mission to be warm, so I flip one on and sit at the table next to it. I can instantly feel the warmth seeping through my hoodie and into my bones as I break up some weed.
The sky is angry and violent, trembling with an intense energy that I feel. My nerves are shot, and my hands shake as I run my tongue along the edge of the wrap, sealing the bud inside. Thunder booms loudly, and a bright flash of light illuminates Cole’s backyard for a fraction of a second.
“What are you doing?” I jump in my seat, nearly tearing a hole in my perfect roll.
Shit.
My heart pounds a staccato rhythm in my chest, and the adrenaline coursing through my veins attempts to push the numbness away.
How did he sneak up on me unnoticed?
“Seriously, Blue. You tryin’ to lose me on purpose?” His perpetual smile is nowhere to be found.
I shrug. Maybe a little, but I needed some peace and quiet. Some space. And the rain is soothing, like a sound machine.
“You gonna smoke with me?” I ask him, changing the subject.
“Nah. I’m good.”
I shrug and spark it up, closing my eyes and inhaling as thunder rumbles and another flash of light pierces through my closed lids. All the beer I had sloshes heavily in my stomach as I adjust myself on the cushioned seat to get more comfortable.
“Why’d you run from me?”
Jesus. He’s not giving up. I exhale loudly, the cold air making the smoke stand out against the inky backdrop.
I decide to be honest. Or maybe all the alcohol and weed swirling around in my system decides it for me. “Thought about you leaving. Freaked out for a second.”
“Me leaving?”
“Yeah. Everyone does.”
Fuck.
Why did I say that?
It sounds pathetic. I press the blunt to my lips and pull for as long as I can, sucking in the smoke and holding it tight.
I can’t look at Ryder. There’s no way I can handle the emotions he wears so freely.
“Blue. . .” His tone is soft and hesitant. Careful.
The smoke bursts out of me in a massive plume. Violent coughs rip from my throat and burn my lungs.
Fuuuck. Bad decision.
It was too big of a hit.
