It’ll be hot and cramped and…fuck, maybe I should bite the bullet and sleep in the trunk. Even if it’ll royally mess up my back.
“Nah, I’m not scared.” Noah pulls me out of my thoughts and brings me back into the present.
“Oh no?” I smirk.
“Nah. I don’t have to run fast.” His lips twitch. “I just have to run faster thanyou,” he laughs.
A deep chuckle slips out before I can stop it. “You’ve never seen me run before. Let’s hope it doesn’t come down to that, for your sake.”
I watch as Noah leans over and starts stoking the fire with a long stick. Sparks fly up into the air, casting a nice glow on his face. It’s such a beautiful night out here and accompanied by the soft melodies of my nearby speaker, I’d say it’s a pretty successful night.
“Hey, you know what would be perfect?” Noah's eyebrow perks up. My brows pinch as I take in his face. His mischievous grin is making me feel a little nervous.
“Uh oh. Why do I feel like I shouldn’t ask…”
“Wanna smoke?” He bites his lip, his knee bouncing up excitedly.
“Noah–”
“Come on. No one’s going to know.” He’s already on his feet, grinning.
“I’llknow. What am I supposed to tell your—”
“Uh uh.” He juts out his finger, effectively silencing me. I huff out a long breath. “You said noblanktalk. Just you and I out here, right?” He narrows his eyes.
I sigh, leaning back in my chair. “Fine. Let’s do the weed.”
This prompts a very real laugh from him, warming my chest.“Do the weed,”he repeats softly as he steps into the tent.
I hear him rustling around for his overnight bag, and I wait patiently as he puts whatever he needs together.
I’ve smoked many times before when I was younger, so I’m not concerned. Truthfully, it’ll feel nice to do it again. I haven’t since my last relationship, and something inside of me is excited to feel…looseand at ease again.
Noah finally emerges with a shallow box lid, using it as a makeshift tray. A small, shiny gray grinder sits on top, along with what I assume are papers and weed.
He settles back across the fire from me and sets the fixings on his lap. With a faint smile tugging at his mouth, he starts rolling the joint, fingers moving with ease like he’s done it a million times.
I scratch my eyebrow. “You’re trouble.”
“Oh, this is just the beginning.” He looks up at me as he brings the joint paper to his lips. Without looking away, he swipes his tongue slowly across the edge as though he’s doing it on purpose, taking his time to show me just how he likes to prepare it.
I don’t know what the fuck has come over me, but there’s a low stir deep in my stomach as I watch his tongue glide smoothly along the paper. My breath catches in my throat. I sit up and quickly look away. I know he probably can’t tell, but it feels like he could see straight through me anyway.
“So… um,” I clear my throat with a slight cough. “How are you so good at that?”
“Rolling up?” His lip quirks into a small smile.
I feel my cheeks heat. “I just mean…you’re not a dealer or anything, are you?”
He arches his brow at me. “Do I seem like one?”
“Yes…” I say, teasing in my tone. Then I shake my head slightly, voice dropping. “No,” I answer truthfully.
He hums in agreement. “Smoking helps me to relax,” he says, focusing on twisting the end, making sure the roll is tight and secure. “Sometimes it’s nice with a little help.”
I get what he means. I swallow deeply as he brings the blunt to his lips.
“I don’t have to be scared of you tripping out or anything, right?” He asks, his words coming out slightly muffled with the rollup hanging out the side of his mouth. He leans over and fishes out his lighter from his back pocket.
