“Not really.” I stood and headed into the hallway. “I’ll be right back.”
I tiptoed into the room and opened our top drawer before pulling out a leather sack one of the feral werewolves had traded us that night we were in the woods. I crept back out and gently shut the door behind me, then also shut Adam and Austin’s door for good measure.
“Here,” I said, tossing the bag onto Darryl’s lap. “He knew what this was, and a lot of other stuff. I think Roscoe used to be feral, and Mosavi seems sure of it.”
He opened the bag and pulled out a pinch of herb. “What the hell is this?”
“Some kind of psychedelic the ferals use. Roscoe and I got high off it that night, but while we were using it, we could understand what they were saying.”
“Cody,” he said, dropping the herb into the bag. “You can’t go out into the woods like that, dude.”
“I know that now.”
“Roscoe should have known better, but he probably just wanted to get high.” He eyed the bag. “So, uh… what’s it like?”
“Incredible,” I said, sitting down, scooting up next to Darryl in anticipation. “Roscoe and I use it sometimes when we’re fucking, and oh my God, it enhances everything.”
Darryl glanced toward the hallway.
“Can it help you get to sleep?”
“If I smoke it, yeah, but the high lasts longer. It sucks to use in the house, so Roscoe and I usually smoke it next to the fire. The last time we did it in the house, that ugly couch in our bedroom started chasing me.” I grinned mischievously. “Wanna get high?”
Darryl scrambled to his feet. “I’ll race ya outside.”
The morning birds echoed through the woods as dawn painted the sky an orangey-blue. Darryl and I lay next to each other on the grass, having spent most of the night tripping. We had also done a little more than talk, but I didn’t really feel weird about it. It was less like a gross one-night stand and more like spending a really nice evening with a good friend who really knew how to fuck.
“That was incredible,” Darryl mumbled in a nasal tone, still not able to move much. “These butterflies won’t leave me alone.”
I turned toward him. “Are you still high?”
“I may have taken a little too much.” He sneezed. “Ugh, I feel like my head is full of snot.”
“Yeah, that happens to Roscoe, too.”
He sneezed again, and the back door opened. I slowly turned to watch as a smirking Roscoe stepped outside.
“I knew I heard something last night,” he said, walking over to us and picking up the sack of herbs.
“Goddamn Roscoe, your head is huge,” Darryl said, still lying flat on his back. “You look like a Funko pop. Dude, are those nipples?”
“Still high, huh?”
Darryl sneezed again and groaned, closing his eyes.
“What’chu guys want fer breakfast?” Roscoe asked, giving me an unusual look as I sat up and rubbed my eyes. “Got lots of eggs. One of the guys at the end of the street raises chickens.” His stomach gurgled. “Man, I’d love to raise some chickens.”
“You’d raise chickens?” I asked.
“Nah, I’d end up eatin’ ‘em before they’d lay any eggs,” Roscoe said with a laugh. “But I am thinkin’ about it.”
“The answer’s no. I’d be the one taking care of them.”
“But think of all the eggs!”
I stumbled to my feet and reached for Darryl’s hand, but he brushed me away.
“I’m gonna lay here for a little while longer. I feel nauseous.”
