“Oh.” I respond, disappointment fluttering through my chest. His words sting, cutting deeper than I had expected. I mentally berate myself for caring so deeply. Saint isn’t mine. He hasn’t been mine since the day I left Melrose. I gave that up, so why does it bother me now? After all this time?
The rest of the drive is spent in silence. Whether or not that silence is comfortable would most likely depend on which one of us you asked. Saint seems perfectly content pretending I’mnot there, while I’m barely able to sit still as my anxiety wiggles through me like a tapeworm. It’s not until the mature bricks of the apartment building come into view that I feel like I can finally breathe again. Every emotion I seem to have while in Saint’s presence feels amplified. Safety feels like nothing bad will ever happen, sadness feels like the end of the world. The anxiety is the worst though, he makes it feel as if everything I do is personally going to end the world. Knowing we’re just a few minutes away from having others around us feels like a blessing. I can’t take the constant intensity that comes with Saint.
We quickly dash through the soaked parking lot before making our way through the hall of doors once more. The number 28 comes into view once more, but I swear it took double the amount of steps as it did previously.
Play how could u love somebody like me? By Artemas
“I’m back!” Saint calls into the apartment as he swings the front door open. Purple lighting floods into the hall, mixing with a light wave of smoke. The scent of weed takes me back. The moment he steps out of the way I can’t help but let my jaw drop. At the kitchen table, in between the two guys sitting sits a large purple bong. Its size is almost comical, towering over the small vase and faux flowers that had previously been the center piece.
“Hey Nova!” Jackson says as he spins around in his char. His eyes are full of the giddiness of a child and at the moment I’m just thankful for his infectious happiness. A red hue has dusted over the white of his eyes, making his irises look darker than they normally are.
“Hey!” I smile back, finally stepping into the room and shutting the door behind me. I scan the living room, finally finding the source of the purple lighting. A few new black lights have been screwed above the tv, illuminating two vintage posters that glow under the illumination.
Saint continues walking through, disappearing into the hall that leads to the bathroom and bedroom. I draw my brows together, curious as to what he’s doing, but I don’t have much time to contemplate and Jackson starts to talk again.
“Want to go sit in the living room?” He starts off, awkwardly rubbing one of his arms. “There’s not enough chairs here for all of us. I don’t want you to feel left out.”
The sweetness of his words have my heart melting. I return his question with a smile and nod before taking his hand and allowing him to lead us to the couch. Luke follows behind wordlessly, making himself comfortable on the singular recliner. The purple light reflects brightly off of his lighter eye, giving him an ethereal look. I can’t help the way my mouth waters as I take him in. He’s dressed up as nice as he was at the party, though this time his button up is white instead of black. His hair is neatly slicked back, leaving plenty of room to show off his face tattoo. Luke drips raw masculinity, and you can’t blame a girl for being tempted.
Thankfully before I start drooling, Saint walks in carrying a basket of what looks like papers. “I found some of your old drawings mixed in with your dad’s tools at the work site.” He places the basket on the small glass coffee table, motioning at them with a nod. “I figured you might want to go through them. See if there’s any you’d like to keep?”
“If they were with my dad’s stuff why did you take them? I’m sure he’ll want them?” I ask, scooting myself off of the couch and plopping down onto the off-white carpet. My fingers gently caress the paper, a bittersweet feeling overtaking me.He kept them? All these years?Before I had left, anytime I had packed up dad’s lunch I had always included a little doodle. I did it more for myself than him, but to see them now has to mean something, right? Maybe he really can get better.
“Maybe,” Saint starts off, scooting past me and sitting down on the couch next to Jackson, “but with this weather it was either I took them or they got destroyed.”
I look up, mouthing a soft thank you to him before the spark of a lighter grabs my attention. The flame burns the paper off the tip of the joint hanging from Luke’s mouth. A soft swirl of smoke dances through the air above him. As he inhales, the tip turns to a bright red. His eyes wander over to me, locking onto me with a heated glare. “Do you want a hit?” He asks, his words coming out hoarse and I can’t help the way my stomach flips.
“I’ve never done that,” I admit, feeling silly as the other two guys look at me. I can feel their stares burning into me.
Jackson lets out a small laugh, “really? Like never?”
I turn towards him, giving him a shy shake of my head.
“Well do you want to?” He asks, giving me a warm smile.
My eyes dart over to Saint, almost as if I’m expecting him to give me permission. My nerves are completely shot, but if he’s able to notice, he doesn't let onto it. I watch as he leans over, taking the joint from Luke before taking a hit himself. He passes it back to Luke without a word, and all three turn their eyes back onto me.
“Yeah, I guess so.” I finally announce.
My heart rate rapidly increases as Jackson takes the weed from Saint and holds it out in my direction. The ashen tip stares back at me, forcing my throat to close up with tension. Jackson seems to take notice, slipping off of the couch and sitting next to me. He gives me a small nod before slipping the joint between my pursed lips. His other hand finds mine, interlacing our fingers together. “Now just breathe in.”
I do as I’m told, my eyes watering as a burning sensation encompasses my lungs. Before I can take in a breath of fresh air, I’m coughing. My throat stings as the smoke billows out of my mouth.
“Congrats!” Luke states with amusement, a sly grin tickling at the side of his lip. “You’re a big girl now.”
Jackson hops up immediately, rushing over to the kitchen. The coughs continue as tears begin to spill down my cheeks, and I’ve never been more thankful to see a glass of water as I am when Jackson walks back over. He hands me the glass, the condensation on the side feeling cool against my palm. I take a few sips, thankful for the way the cold liquid soothes the burn.
“Jesus Christ.” I murmur, setting the drink down. The feeling of panic begins to race through my veins. “I feel weird.” I sputter out without a second thought.
This pulls a snort from Saint, who’s watching me as though I’m some science experiment.
“It’s not the weed, princess.” Luke hums, leaning forward until his elbows are rested against his knees. The smell of his heavy cologne wafts off of him, filling the air with a mix of marijuana and leather. “It’s the oxygen deprivation you gave yourself while trying to cough up a lung.” The stark contrast of his eyes gathers all my attention as he finishes off. “But don't worry, the drugs will hit soon enough.”
Play DIFFERENT by Chris Grey
An hour has passed, or maybe just a few minutes, I’m unsure. Jackson had to leave, a few of the printing machines at his job had clogged. He had complained that if it doesn’t get fixed now, he’ll be walking into twenty messed up shirts tomorrow. With a soft forehead kiss and a promise to be back after a couple of hours, he had taken off.
“Nova,” Saint’s voice pulls me as close back to the present as I’m able to get. “Do you want another hit?”
