“Are you too stoned to remember? Or is this more bro code bullshit?”
He slumps back on the sofa, giving me a very cold, very hard smile. The chill that goes through my body has nothing to do with my micro skirt, or my wet hair, or the pouring rain outside. Or even the creepy as fuck crime documentary still running in the background.
“I was too unconscious.”
“Jeez, you guys take partying to a whole ‘nother level,” I mutter.
If Kai’s not here, then where is he? Would he have gone back home to his folks’s house? Fucking doubt it. He hated being home as much as I did. If his parents hadn’t given him a curfew when he was a kid, I’m sure he’d have gotten himself a tent and slept in the woods as often as possible.
“Wish that was the case. Kai went psycho and knocked me out.” Blake hesitates, then decides he will in fact have some more weed.
snick
“Want a hit?”
“You two get in a fight?”
Blake laughs, then starts coughing violently. The bong goes back on the coffee table, his head hanging between his legs as he tries to get his cough under control, a finger held up for me to wait.
“…manhunt continued for seventeen days, with police from three states coordinating efforts to…”
I creep closer, reaching out a hand so I can pat him on the back or something, but he sits up in a rush and stares at me with this weird, considering look in his eyes that makes me freeze.
“Fight? Fuck, no. I was trying to help him. But that fucking psycho thought I was trying to attack him or something.” He shrugs, looks away, clears his throat. “Fuck only knows.”
“And then he left? Did he tell anyone where he was going?”
“The hell do you care?” Blake snaps, his eyes darting back to me.
Yeah, Haven. The helldoyou care?
“I need to speak to him.”
“You and me both,” he says, fingering his jaw again. Now that I’m closer, I can see a bruise on his pale skin. “But his phone’s off.”
“…trail went cold somewhere near…”
It’s gone midnight. And the way Blake’s sitting in the dark, it’s almost like…
“You’re waiting for him.”
He snorts, shrugs. “Sorta.” He slouches back and pats the cushion beside him. “You can wait here, if you want. I’ll load us up a game. You play games?”
“Uh, no, I think I’ll just?—“
“Oh, wait, before you go.” Blake leans a little to the side, stretching out his legs so he can get his phone out of his black jeans.
On the television, an elderly woman croaks her way through an interview segment.
“…was such a nice man. Tall and handsome, and so smart. Always helped me with my…”
I shift my weight to the other foot. The hairs on my arms peel away from my skin as rainwater evaporates from my body in the warm living room.
“Check this,” Blake says. “Someone posted a new video.”
Oh God, what now?
I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to sit down. Blake seems harmless enough, especially stoned as he is.
