Page 94 of Lost Boy
“Shit! Sorry! Here, borrow mine.”
The kid from the party is here. Jack or something. I’m not feeling particularly social, but I need a light, so I take it from him. He lets our fingers brush awkwardly, and I pull my hand back quickly.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
“Fallon, right?”
“Yeah.” I wish he’d fucking go away. I need to get my head in the game because I’m about to perform in front of a restaurant of people for the first time, with a band I’ve never rehearsed with, no less.
I flick the lighter on, quickly sparking my joint and handing it back to him. I inhale deeply, letting the THC filter through my system and relax me. I close my eyes and try towishhim away. Yeet him with the strength of my mind. That would be pretty sick.
Yep. Instantly stoned.
My wish is granted in the form of a six-and-a-half-foot tall basketball player.
“What are you doing, Jackson?” Ryder asks in an irritated tone, folding his arms across his chest. His biceps stretch the sleeves of his button-up deliciously.
I try not to stare, probably failing, and take another hit.
Jackson sticks his hands in his pockets. “Just offering a light to a friend in need. What are you doing, Cruz?” he counters. I can see the flicker of uncertainty in Ryder’s eyes before he turns his gaze on me, ignoring the guy altogether.
“You’re on in twenty. Finish up so you can speak with the band.”
He’s right. I take another pull or two. I offer it to Ryder, who shakes his head, then to Jackson because I’m too nice, and he takes it.
“You’re playing at Acadia Landing?” he asks before taking a hit. His tone is curious, and his eyes light up with interest. The dirty blond man bun on his head is loose and messy, but his outfit is crisp and put together.
I shrug and glance at Ryder. “Is that what it’s called?”
“Yeah, it is.” He turns to Jackson. “He’s subbing in for the guitarist at the Landing. For a whole set. So fuck off, Jacks. Let him concentrate. Did Seth send you?”
Whoa. That sorta came out of nowhere.
Jacks holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Ryder. Chill out, dude. What’s your problem?”
Ryder does need to relax before he blows his cover by going all caveman over me. Even though I like it.Really like it.I’d let him throw me over his shoulder, actually. Take me to bed. Maybe we can try that later.
Shit. I’m stoned.
Jackson passes the joint back to me, but I definitely don’t need anymore, so I stub it out on a rock, dipping it in a puddle for good measure. I’ll toss it on my way back to the restaurant.
“Ryder, let’s go. I gotta get ready to play,” I mumble, trying to sound casual and not like I’m falling for him more every day. These feelings unnerve me, but at the same time, I know it’s right. A jolt of warmth rushes through me at what we did earlier today.
“You singing?” Jackson asks.
He’s still trying to have a conversation with me?
God.
My eyes dart to Ryder’s irritated face.
“Uh, not tonight. And I really gotta go. See ya.”
Or not. Hopefully not.
Ryder gives Jackson a final once-over before he glances at me. He turns and stomps away, leaving me behind to make it seem less suspicious.
“I’d watch you if I could, but I don’t have a club membership. The public school kids just sneak on the golf course to smoke sometimes. But good luck, or break a leg, whatever I’m supposed to say.” His smile seems genuine, but if Ryder doesn’t trust him, I don’t either. I wish everyone would just leave me alone. I really don’t need anyone except Ryder. And my new family.
