Page 59 of Riot Act
She curves a bemused eyebrow at me, pushing herself forward so she can slide off the edge of the mattress. A second later, she produces a joint from the little nightstand by the bed. “I prefer to smoke this.” She holds it up, the offer implicit as she passes me, throws one leg over the windowsill, then the other, and drops down onto the small rooftop below.
A cloud of weed smoke wafts in through the window, curling up my nose. I stand very still, watching her as she pulls on the joint and the burning ember at its end flares bright red. “Come out or close the window. This stuff’s strong. Miriam’s uptight as hell. She won’t be cool if she smells this coming out from underneath my door.”
“Who the fuck is Miriam?”
“She’s the floor monitor. She private tutored you for six months, sophomore year.”
“Big butt? Glasses?”
“Nope.”
“Whatever.” I huff out a bewildered breath and boost myself out after her, acutely aware that this is already not going according to plan. I was supposed to confront her. Make it clear to her that, when I tell her to do something, she’s supposed to do it. But now that I’m here and I’ve seen her bedroom, I’m beginning to suspect that she’s infiltrating my brain via fucking witchcraft, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to combatthat. My music tastes and my generally foul demeanor are deceptive; I’m not a master of the dark arts myself.
Not to mention the fact I’ve barely had chance to say more than five words and she's already ordering me about and passing me a fuckingjoint.Seriously. I’m getting whiplash with this girl.I hit the joint, because fuck it, it's a joint, and it does smell like good shit. The burn's pleasant, and the high is quick as hell. I'm feeling it before I've even finished drawing on it a second time. I pass it back to her, holding the smoke in my lungs. I blow it down my nose, a looseness settling over me, close to the same sensation I felt jumping into the plunge pool earlier.
Chase wets her lips with a sweep of her tongue, sparing me sideways glance. Once again it hits me—how different she is. How fucking transformed.Thisis who she’s always been, her personality hidden away beneath a cloak of anxiety. Now that cloak has been ripped from her, she’s finally here, unveiled and frankly fucking fascinating. I hate that. I absolutelyhatethe feeling of fascination that tugs at me, urging me to studier her closer. She—
“You're cool with H, right? Sometimes I like to lace my spliffs.”
I glare at her.
She smirks, taking another drag. Smoke plumes out of her mouth when she talks. “What? It's not like shooting it. It just deepens the buzz.”
“You're fuckingkidding, right?”
“Yes.” The smirk becomes a grin. “I am. But you should see your face. You look like you're about to have a heart attack.”
Oh, ho ho ho. Not smart. “I was about to wrap my hands around your throat and throttle the living shit out of you,” I growl.
“Wow.” She spins the joint around and puts the end of it in my mouth, between my lips, instead of offering it for me to take. I accept it—no sense in wasting good weed—but a good part of me wants to flick it off into the rose bushes below, just to spite her. “That's pretty forward. Throttle me?Youkissedmefirst—”
I stare at her in horror. “Ididn’t kiss you first. You begged me to do you a favor!”
“You kissed me way before that.”
“What?”
“You did. Right before you nearly cracked my ribs.”
“Are you fucking insane? That wasn’t a kiss. That was mouth-to-mouth.You weren't breathing.”
“Tomato. Tomahhhto.” She exaggerates the difference between the pronunciations, trying to drive her erroneous point home. “You say mouth-to-mouth. I say first base. Let's call a spade a spade.”
I pull savagely on the joint and then send it flipping end over end into the flower beds below. Chase rests her chin on her fist, watching it disappear into the dark. “Of course. You’re one ofthose.” She sighs, and the sound of it is the tip of a feather running all the way down my bare spine. “A spoiled little brat who throws other people's toys.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “What the hell’s gotten into you? You were all uptight and pissy this afternoon. Now you’re giving me lip?”
She smiles a little loosely. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s not the first joint I’ve smoked this evening.”
“You’re baked, then.”
She shakes her head. “Just comfortable. I knew you’d show up eventually.”
“You did, huh?”
“You aren’t the type of guy who takes being stood up well.”
“Stood—” Holy shit, this girl isinfuriating. How did I not know this about her? She doesn't seem even remotely annoyed by the fact that I just ditched her drugs. She smiles up at the night sky as if there's something interesting to observe there and not just a thick mantle of clouds. I crouch down, so that I'm hovering right beside her, and I blow the smoke I've been holding in my chest—there’s barely any of it left really—right into her face. It's supposed to be an insult, of course, but quick as lightning Chase grabs the back of my head and pulls me close, bringing her mouth so that it's an inch away from mine, and sucks the smoke into her lungs.
