my throat. I hold it in as long as possible, which isn’t long at all. Smoke and air burst from my lungs in a loud cough and my eyes burn. “Sorry,” I bark between gasps of air.
He doesn’t reply but takes the pipe back and hits it again. Back and forth we g o, my lungs slowly acclimating to the stinging heat. Henry and I sit across from one another and I hazily look around the room. Typical college furniture fills the room and posters line the walls. A huge canvas hangs over Henry’s head. It has a graphic, comic-y feel to it. I see the initials H. F. in the bottom corner.
Henry glances upward and says, “I painted that for class. It’s lopsided though and drives me crazy.”
Tilting my head, I try to figure out what he means, but everything seems sort of wavy right now. I look down and see Henry lean back on a black futon, his legs stretched under the coffee table. He has small fuzzy hair on his knees that I want to touch.
I’m sitting in a strange gold corduroy chair. I run my thumb down the fabric. We’re oddly matched and I start to giggle looking at my skin tight pants.
Henry smiles lazily. “What?”
“This.” I point to my outfit. “You’re dressed all normal and I’m in this ridiculous get up.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t look ridiculous. You look hot.”
Despite the num bness of the weed, I feel my cheeks heat. My tongue is loose and my body feels out of my control. I cross my legs slowly revealing the heeled boots. “Superhero fetish?”
His eyes travel from the boots to my boobs up to my eyes. “Something like that.”
Henry’s an e nigma. Funny and nice. Sort of a hipster and obviously a bit of rebel, but more than once we’ve had this energy pulse through us that I can’t put my finger on. Attraction? Friends? Maybe Josh is right and I’m just chicken.
“Do you still write?” he asks.
“I try. But I’ve been a little blocked lately.” Lately is an understatement. Ever since the crap hit the fan at Elton I’ve floundered.
“I always liked your stuff in the school paper.”
“My emo, high school bullshit? I was so full of pretention.”
“Nah, it was good. I liked the short stories the best. My favorite one was about the dog. You know that could talk?”
“Really? That was my favorite one, too.” I say. “Other than ‘Fuck You, Henry Fletcher’, of course.”
“Of course.”
My phone buzzes on the couch next to me and I pick it up. Tate’s on his way. “I should go out front. Tate should be here in a minute.”
Henry nods and we both stand. I’m clumsy on my feet and he grabs my arm , steadying me. We’re standing close and I can feel the heat of his skin through my tight shirt. “Feeling better?”
“Yeah, definitely calmer,” I stare at his chin, at the heavy stubble, afraid to look in his eyes. His fingers linger on my elbow but then he takes my phone and starts pressing buttons. “What are you doing?”
“I added my number. Call me if you need anything.”
“You’re coming, right?” I ask.
“Probably,” is the most he’ll answer. “Be careful, okay?”
I’m at the door and can see Tate getting out of his car. I don’t want him to come up here. “I will.” I pause and give Henry a hug. “I really appreciate it. Maybe now I won’t make an ass out of myself.”
He laughs and lets me go, shutting the door behind me. The summer air hits my skin and I’m immediately sweating. Tate sees me on th e steps and whistles. I whistle back because he’s dressed in some sort of armor, his biceps bulging and his abs peeking out under a breast plate. Holy cow.
“Ready?” he asks, offering me his hand.
I stifle a giggle at the whole scene, mostly because I’m a little baked. “Yep, let’s go kick some ass.”
Chapter Six
I’ve been to fraternity parties before. The last one at Elton turned into a life-changing disaster. That’s my trend. Turning normal events into a crisis-worthy disaster. The solution? Running
He doesn’t reply but takes the pipe back and hits it again. Back and forth we g o, my lungs slowly acclimating to the stinging heat. Henry and I sit across from one another and I hazily look around the room. Typical college furniture fills the room and posters line the walls. A huge canvas hangs over Henry’s head. It has a graphic, comic-y feel to it. I see the initials H. F. in the bottom corner.
Henry glances upward and says, “I painted that for class. It’s lopsided though and drives me crazy.”
Tilting my head, I try to figure out what he means, but everything seems sort of wavy right now. I look down and see Henry lean back on a black futon, his legs stretched under the coffee table. He has small fuzzy hair on his knees that I want to touch.
I’m sitting in a strange gold corduroy chair. I run my thumb down the fabric. We’re oddly matched and I start to giggle looking at my skin tight pants.
Henry smiles lazily. “What?”
“This.” I point to my outfit. “You’re dressed all normal and I’m in this ridiculous get up.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t look ridiculous. You look hot.”
Despite the num bness of the weed, I feel my cheeks heat. My tongue is loose and my body feels out of my control. I cross my legs slowly revealing the heeled boots. “Superhero fetish?”
His eyes travel from the boots to my boobs up to my eyes. “Something like that.”
Henry’s an e nigma. Funny and nice. Sort of a hipster and obviously a bit of rebel, but more than once we’ve had this energy pulse through us that I can’t put my finger on. Attraction? Friends? Maybe Josh is right and I’m just chicken.
“Do you still write?” he asks.
“I try. But I’ve been a little blocked lately.” Lately is an understatement. Ever since the crap hit the fan at Elton I’ve floundered.
“I always liked your stuff in the school paper.”
“My emo, high school bullshit? I was so full of pretention.”
“Nah, it was good. I liked the short stories the best. My favorite one was about the dog. You know that could talk?”
“Really? That was my favorite one, too.” I say. “Other than ‘Fuck You, Henry Fletcher’, of course.”
“Of course.”
My phone buzzes on the couch next to me and I pick it up. Tate’s on his way. “I should go out front. Tate should be here in a minute.”
Henry nods and we both stand. I’m clumsy on my feet and he grabs my arm , steadying me. We’re standing close and I can feel the heat of his skin through my tight shirt. “Feeling better?”
“Yeah, definitely calmer,” I stare at his chin, at the heavy stubble, afraid to look in his eyes. His fingers linger on my elbow but then he takes my phone and starts pressing buttons. “What are you doing?”
“I added my number. Call me if you need anything.”
“You’re coming, right?” I ask.
“Probably,” is the most he’ll answer. “Be careful, okay?”
I’m at the door and can see Tate getting out of his car. I don’t want him to come up here. “I will.” I pause and give Henry a hug. “I really appreciate it. Maybe now I won’t make an ass out of myself.”
He laughs and lets me go, shutting the door behind me. The summer air hits my skin and I’m immediately sweating. Tate sees me on th e steps and whistles. I whistle back because he’s dressed in some sort of armor, his biceps bulging and his abs peeking out under a breast plate. Holy cow.
“Ready?” he asks, offering me his hand.
I stifle a giggle at the whole scene, mostly because I’m a little baked. “Yep, let’s go kick some ass.”
Chapter Six
I’ve been to fraternity parties before. The last one at Elton turned into a life-changing disaster. That’s my trend. Turning normal events into a crisis-worthy disaster. The solution? Running
Similar Books
