Chapter 16 Shane #2
I plop down, then pull the cigarette case out from under my butt.
“Do you smoke?” I ask. “Cigarettes, not the good stuff.”
“Nope.”
“Me either. Well, that’s not true. I don’t usually smoke, but I sometimes do when I’m drinking.”
“Why?”
“Dunno.” I lean back on my hands. “’Cause everyone else usually is.”
“Do you like it?”
“Not at all, but drunk me is all about bad decisions and treating my body like an amusement park instead of the temple it apparently is.”
He laughs and takes the case from me. “Want to spark up the second one?”
“Definitely.” I grin. “Hello, bad decisions, goodbye, common sense.”
I watch as he shakes the joint out and uses the lighter built into the case to light it. He takes a few quick drags to get it started, then hands it to me.
“I meant what I said,” I tell him as I take a hit. “I kinda hate that you have layers. You’re like an onion. A sexy onion who fucks like a damn sex god, but still an onion.”
“Can’t I be a cake or maybe a lasagna?” he asks, taking the joint from me. “They have layers too.”
“Nah, onion fits because they should be icky but are actually amazing if prepared right.”
“And I’m icky unless I’m prepared right?”
“Pretty much.” I take a long drag off the joint. “I never wanted to be leader,” I say as I blow out the smoke.
“Me either.”
“Were you going to run?”
He nods and takes the joint from me.
“Why, if you didn’t want it?”
“Because it was expected of me.”
“Do you always do what’s expected of you?”
“Only when it’s not worth pushing back. Sometimes going along with the plan is easier.”
“That feels like my whole damn life.” I take another deep drag off the joint. “I’ve been living someone else’s life for so long I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
“What do you mean?” Jace asks, gently prying the joint out of my hand.
“I’m not KJ. I’ve been trying to be him for so long, but I’m not, and I just keep disappointing everyone.”
“KJ?”
“My brother.” I watch him blow out a stream of smoke. “He died.”
“I’m sorry.” He hands the joint back to me.
“My sister Rosie died too.” I watch a thin plume of smoke rise off the cherry of the joint for a few beats “I went from the middle kid to an only child overnight.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, and the lack of platitudes is a welcome change.
Most people tell me stupid shit like they’re in a better place or they’re watching over me, or that it was God’s plan or some shit like that when they find out about my siblings dying. Or they act like it’s some huge deal in their life and just go on and on when they didn’t even know them.
Jace isn’t doing that, and more of those tingly bubbles ping-pong around in my head as my thoughts go hazy around the edges.
“I’ve tried to be everything for my parents.
” I take another hit off the joint and hand it to him.
“I was an awkward nerd who loved magic and music, but then they died so I played hockey like KJ did, and did baseball because he loved it. I got perfect grades because Rosie was so fucking smart, way smarter than I’ll ever be, and it’s never enough.
Now I’m supposed to be leader next year because KJ isn’t here to do it, and I don’t want it.
I don’t, but it’s tradition, so I don’t have a choice. ”
He presses the joint between my fingers, and I lift it to my lips.
“My parents never got over it.” I snort-laugh and take a hit off the joint.
“Not that you can ever get over losing two of your kids. But it’s been so hard on my mom.
Every holiday, birthdays, milestones, anything that reminds her that they’re gone makes her so sad.
I don’t know how to help her, and she’s not always like that.
When she’s not sad, she’s amazing and the best mom ever, but when she’s sad, it’s like she’s breaking in front of me, and there’s nothing I can do to make it better. ”
Jace takes the joint from me. “It’s not your job as the kid to make it better.”
“I know. But it’s hard to watch someone you love hurt like that.
And I know my dad is just being strong and stoic and holding it together for the family, but some days I just want to scream at him because it’s like he feels nothing.
He doesn’t cry or get sad or yell or anything.
” I shoot him a quick look. “That’s probably why you pissed me off so much. ”
“I’m not following.” He takes the joint from me and lifts it to his lips.
“You do that. You only show what you want to show, and it’s like you don’t feel things.”
“I don’t, not really.”
I roll my eyes and pluck the nearly finished joint out of his hand.
“What was that face for?” he asks, but he’s smiling faintly, like he finds my babbling amusing.
“Because everyone feels things.”
“I don’t,” he repeats. “Not the same way as other people.”
“Why not?” I giggle. “Because you’re a psycho?” I ask, remembering his earlier joke.
“It’s actually antisocial personality disorder, but yes.”
“Huh?” I blink at him like an owl as my brain does that record scratch thing again. “You weren’t joking?”
He takes the joint from me and finishes it. “Why would I joke about that?”
“Because that’s usually something people say when they’re joking.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
“So, this is a real thing? Like a doctor or whatever diagnosed you?”
He nods and leans back on his hands.
“Jesus.” I shake my head. “Wait, is Jax like you too?”
He nods again.
“That makes so much sense. What about Killian? Or is he just an asshole?”
He laughs. “Killer’s just an asshole.”
“So you don’t feel things? Like at all?”
“Not really. I consider myself a sort of upgraded NPC. I don’t feel much except anger and apathy.”
“What about happiness?”
He shakes his head.
“Love?”
He shakes his head again.
“Fear?”
“Nope.”
“But I’ve seen you laugh and smile. How can you do that if you don’t ever feel happy?”
“Because amusement and happiness aren’t the same thing. Neither is humor. I sometimes feel something that might be the closest thing to happiness that I can feel, but it doesn’t happen often.”
“I can’t wrap my head around that. What about sadness or grief?”
He shakes his head again.
“But you feel anger?”
He nods again.
“But aren’t people like you usually violent and unpredictable? You’re like the most calculated and deliberate person I’ve ever met. Even when you lose your shit and go crazy, you’re still in total control and doing it because you want to, not because you’ve actually snapped.”
“You picked up on that?” He grins. “You’re the only person outside of my family who ever has.”
“It wasn’t hard. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to avoid you, which means I’ve spent a lot of time observing you and learning stuff about you against my will.”
He laughs. “Fair enough. But to answer your question, people like us usually are, but Jax and me are different.”
“How?”
“Because we don’t really fit into the typical definition. And our parents recognized that there was something different with us when we were really young, and instead of locking us away, they worked with us and made sure that we learned how to control ourselves.”
“You weren’t always like this?”
“Hell no.” He laughs and kicks his feet. “I was always the first to react, but Jax is the one who would really fuck people up. It took years, and lots of unique hobbies where we could channel our natural instincts, to get to this point.”
“This is so insane, but also so not a surprise,” I tell him, then let out a soft laugh as a wave of full-body tingles moves through me. “Whoa.”
“Feeling good?” he asks with a sly grin.
“Really good. What’s this strain called?”
“French cookies.”
“Yummy and fun.” I huff out another laugh as more of those waves crash over me. “Damn, I really am a lightweight tonight. Things are gonna get messy,” I warn him.
“That’s fine. I don’t mind messy.”
“Are you floating?”
“I am,” he assures me.
A strange sensation mixes with the floaty good feels, and my dick perks up as I feel a pang of desire deep in my balls.
“There’s something else I should have told you,” I tell him.
“What’s that?”
“Weed makes me horny as fuck.”
“Want to know a secret?” he asks in a stage whisper.
“What?” I lean closer.
“It makes me horny too.”
I rest my hand on his thigh and slide it up until I’m cupping his cock. “So what are we gonna do about it?”
“Depends on how sore you are.”
“Not sore at all.”
“Is that the weed talking?” he asks as his cock grows hard under my hand.
“Dunno, but it didn’t hurt when you did it, or before the weed, so I’m gonna go with no.”
“You want me to fuck you again?”
I nod. “But I wanna blow you first.”
“Yeah?” He puts his hand over mine and presses down. “Remember, I like it rough.”
“That’s good, because I have no idea what I’m doing, so we’ll just pretend that any teeth scrapes or accidental bites are me being rough and playful and not me showing my total lack of skills.”
He grins and lets go of my hand. “I’m good with that.”
“I might choke on it,” I warn him as I slide off the bed and kneel between his spread legs.
“I’ll like it if you do.”
“This is so weird. I’ve never been in this position before,” I muse as I undo his pants. “Jesus, your dick is huge. Like, I thought I was gifted in the dick department, but this is a damn anaconda.”
He laughs, and the flush on his face and the crinkles next to his eyes make him look younger and more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him.
“I still want to fuck you one of these days,” I tell him as I pull his dick free from his underwear. “But I know that’s just wishful thinking.”
“Why do you think that?”
I give his dick a long, slow stroke and look up at him. “Because you’re you.”
“I am me.” He grins and rocks his hips to help push his dick through my hand. “But that still doesn’t answer why you wanting to fuck me is wishful thinking.”
“Aren’t you a top? Is that what it’s called?”
“It is, and you think that’s what I am?”
I stroke him faster. I like the feel of him in my hand. It’s familiar but different, and weirdly fun.
“Aren’t you?”
“Nope.”