I almost laugh, but when Jackson’s brows lift and he holds out the joint, I realize he’s completely serious.
“No pressure. But after our conversation earlier, I thought maybe you’d want to try.” He shrugs. “I mean, you’re already hiding out for the week, might as well take full advantage to knock some things off your bucket list.”
“Oh.”
Was it stupid to get high for the first time at thirty-eight years old? But when else would I get an opportunity to try this? I’m safe with Jackson. He won’t let anything happen to me, and most importantly, he won’t ever tell anyone.
“Unless you don’t want to? No pressure, Rosalie. I just thought?—”
“No, I do.” I bite the inside of my cheek.
“Okay, then.” Jackson retrieves a lighter from the same windowsill, and lights the end of the rolled paper, taking a seat as I plop down next to him. “You nervous?”
“Of course I am,” I retort a little too harshly, but Jackson doesn’t react.
Instead, he meets my stare as his lips press around the joint. He holds my gaze as he takes a long inhale.
Time somehow slows. My own breath gets caught in my throat. I can’t look away. God, why is he so hot?
Jackson passes me the joint and he finally exhales. I mimic his actions, but as soon as I hand the joint back, I cough.
“Don’t laugh,” I threaten as I struggle to catch my breath.
“I’m not,” he says without an ounce of humor before taking another drag.
“I don’t feel anything yet.” I frown. My desire for control is sostrong, I wonder if this stuff is truly potent enough to break through my anxious thoughts.
“Give it some time.” Jackson sinks back into the sofa, and passes me the joint. “One more and then we wait. If you feel weird or sick or paranoid, tell me. We’ll take this slow.”
“Okay.” I relax a little, knowing he has my best interests in mind. He’s experienced in partaking, too. He won’t allow me to overdose.
“You feeling okay?” Jackson asks, his gaze is almost unnerving.
“Fine.” I nod, but my brain is overwhelmed. Did he turn up the music? Because I feel it in every molecule of my body.
“It’s hitting you, isn’t it?” His chuckle sends a shiver up my spine.
My body feels good. Really good. And I’m hyperaware of his proximity. He could lean over and kiss me. Hell, I could lean over and kiss him. Maybe I should. Why fight it? It’s exhausting pretending I don’t find him attractive.
He brings the joint to his lips again, and I get a little jealous of the rolled paper pressing against them.
“What are you thinking about?” Jackson asks. He smiles as if we share a secret. Can he read my mind?
“You have really nice lips.”
I can’t believe I admit that aloud! A giggle rattles my chest. Between this album and the weed, Jackson has me acting like a goddamn teenager. The kind I would have been if I hadn’t had to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders.
I reach for the joint, taking it from him to inhale. This time I don’t cough at all.
“You’re a natural,” he praises.
“I’m a fast learner.” I smile proudly. “And a perfectionist.”
“So, what do you think of my man cave?” He glances around the room.
“I like it,” I say carefully. Studying the décor, I correct him. “It’s moreHot Tub Time Machinethan man cave.”
His laughter is instant. “Ouch. Okay, I think you just insulted my decorating skills.”
