Page 90 of The One
“I know what will get you in the mood.” She shifted to grab something from her pocket and held up a joint. “You can do the honors, captain.”
“Nah, I’m good.”
She took out a lighter. “You don’t want to smoke?”
Of course I wanted to smoke. I wanted that entire joint to myself.
Once we got to the beach house, that would be a whole different story, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to do anything to risk messing up Dad’s million-dollar boat.
“No, I don’t,” I told her.
She nudged my shoulder. “What’s gotten into you?” She put the joint between her lips and lit the end, taking a long drag. Her exhale blew right into my face. “Here.” She tried handing it to me.
“I told you, I don’t want it.”
“Why not?”
I leaned my face away, keeping my eyes on the water. “Because I just don’t want to smoke.”
“But you always want to smoke.”
“I just don’t want to right now.”
She groaned, “Ugh, you’re getting worse by the second.”
So was she.
“Just think, I’m leaving more for you. Isn’t that what you want? To get even higher?” When I gave her a quick glance, her eyes were narrowed as she stared at me.
“No. I want to share it with you. I want us both to get so fucked up.”
I turned back toward the water. “I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll smoke with you once we get to Timothy’s. But not before.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and rested her face on my arm. “I’m back to loving you.”
I didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
I was leaning toward bad.
“But, Rhett, just so you know, you’re going to dance with me. I’m not giving you any other choice.”
A cloud of smoke rose over my face as she blew it toward me.
“I’m not dancing, Penelope. I told you, I can’t.”
“You just don’t want to. But I’m going to change your mind.”
She puffed down the rest of the weed and tossed the paper into the water. Then, she knelt on the seat, her palms pressed against the hard top above us.
“You need to sit, Penelope.”
Instead of staying in that spot, she moved behind me, wedging into the small space between my ass and the seat. Her thighs pushed against my back, her hands went to my shoulders, and she started to sing to whatever was playing.
“You’ve got to move,” I ordered. I grabbed her hand, and I tried to return her to the seat beside me. “Pen, come on. This isn’t funny. We’re going fast, and this isn’t safe.”
