“Never,” she says in a whisper.
When she’s sufficiently distracted with my hand, I take the opportunity and reach down the top of her dress, grabbing whatever’s hidden in her bra.
“Hey!”
I already have the baggy in my possession, and I hold it above her head.
She doesn’t make a pass to retrieve it, just pushes me in the chest for tricking her. I’m too fixated on her contraband to respond.
“Why do you have a bag of marijuana?” Andwheredid she get it? Four messily rolled joints fill the plastic. The papers don’t have neat creases, which means that Rose didn’t roll them. It takes her two hours just to meticulously fold her panties and place them in her drawer.
My eyes fall to her with interest.
She stays quiet, twisting her diamond necklace in her fingers.
“Care to explain?”
“I thought we could do something different tonight…” she says. “I usually don’t try new things, and with you…” she trails off, lost for words. This must annoy her because she rolls her eyes.
“I accept,” I say instantly.
Her eyes brighten in surprise. “Really?”
I nod, willing to try anything with her. I want her to experience as many firsts with me as she possibly can. I’ve smoked only once—my first and only foray into illegal drugs. It was strategic. Boarding school. Trying to gain a connection I needed for Student Council.
“On one condition,” I reply. “You tell me who gave these to you.”
“Daisy.” She doesn’t even hesitate. “If I have the drugs, then she doesn’t have them. They’re much safer in my position.” She grins.
Devious and intelligent. I like this side of her.
My face suddenly falls as I remember something important.
I’m on Adderall.
And I’m not a hundred percent positive it’s safe to smoke pot on the stimulant. The small percentage of doubt is not something I’m willing to live with. I’ll never forgive myself for impairing my brain or my body over something so stupid.
“What’s wrong?” She touches my arm in concern.
The one question makes me frown even deeper. I’m getting worse at hiding my emotions from her. Or maybe…maybe I just don’t care if she’s sees this part of me anymore.
For the first time, I really want to be honest with her.
Not just my half-assed attempt at honesty. I want her to know me as well as I know myself. So I prepare to admit the one thing that could cause her to storm out, pack her bags, sleep in Daisy’s room and maybe even sling my clothes out the window.
“I’m on Adderall,” I let it go. One sentence. One breath.
She drops her hand from my arm, and herI’m-going-to-rip-your-dick-offglare heats her eyes. “Bullshit,” she says. “You wouldnevertake Adderall.”
“I wouldn’t,” I agree. “But I was losing sleep, and I wasn’t putting a hundred percent into Wharton or Cobalt Inc., so I decided to start taking it.”
“For how long?” Her collarbones sharpen as she holds in a breath. I remember what Frederick once told me when I was only eighteen and I thought I was finished discovering who I was and what I wanted to be. He said, “Lies tear at relationships until they’re nothing but unwound threads.”
I hate that my own has begun to unravel.
I hate that, in this moment, I am ordinary.
“The end of January.”
