Chapter 6 #3
“Hey!” I smile back, finally stepping into the room and shutting the door behind me. I scan the living room, finally finding the source of the purple lighting. A few new black lights have been screwed above the tv, illuminating two vintage posters that glow under the illumination.
Saint continues walking through, disappearing into the hall that leads to the bathroom and bedroom. I draw my brows together, curious as to what he’s doing, but I don’t have much time to contemplate and Jackson starts to talk again.
“Want to go sit in the living room?” He starts off, awkwardly rubbing one of his arms. “There’s not enough chairs here for all of us. I don’t want you to feel left out.”
The sweetness of his words have my heart melting.
I return his question with a smile and nod before taking his hand and allowing him to lead us to the couch.
Luke follows behind wordlessly, making himself comfortable on the singular recliner.
The purple light reflects brightly off of his lighter eye, giving him an ethereal look.
I can’t help the way my mouth waters as I take him in.
He’s dressed up as nice as he was at the party, though this time his button up is white instead of black.
His hair is neatly slicked back, leaving plenty of room to show off his face tattoo.
Luke drips raw masculinity, and you can’t blame a girl for being tempted.
Thankfully before I start drooling, Saint walks in carrying a basket of what looks like papers.
“I found some of your old drawings mixed in with your dad’s tools at the work site.
” He places the basket on the small glass coffee table, motioning at them with a nod.
“I figured you might want to go through them. See if there’s any you’d like to keep? ”
“If they were with my dad’s stuff why did you take them?
I’m sure he’ll want them?” I ask, scooting myself off of the couch and plopping down onto the off-white carpet.
My fingers gently caress the paper, a bittersweet feeling overtaking me.
He kept them? All these years? Before I had left, anytime I had packed up dad’s lunch I had always included a little doodle.
I did it more for myself than him, but to see them now has to mean something, right? Maybe he really can get better.
“Maybe,” Saint starts off, scooting past me and sitting down on the couch next to Jackson, “but with this weather it was either I took them or they got destroyed.”
I look up, mouthing a soft thank you to him before the spark of a lighter grabs my attention.
The flame burns the paper off the tip of the joint hanging from Luke’s mouth.
A soft swirl of smoke dances through the air above him.
As he inhales, the tip turns to a bright red.
His eyes wander over to me, locking onto me with a heated glare.
“Do you want a hit?” He asks, his words coming out hoarse and I can’t help the way my stomach flips.
“I’ve never done that,” I admit, feeling silly as the other two guys look at me. I can feel their stares burning into me.
Jackson lets out a small laugh, “really? Like never?”
I turn towards him, giving him a shy shake of my head.
“Well do you want to?” He asks, giving me a warm smile.
My eyes dart over to Saint, almost as if I’m expecting him to give me permission.
My nerves are completely shot, but if he’s able to notice, he doesn't let onto it.
I watch as he leans over, taking the joint from Luke before taking a hit himself.
He passes it back to Luke without a word, and all three turn their eyes back onto me.
“Yeah, I guess so.” I finally announce.
My heart rate rapidly increases as Jackson takes the weed from Saint and holds it out in my direction.
The ashen tip stares back at me, forcing my throat to close up with tension.
Jackson seems to take notice, slipping off of the couch and sitting next to me.
He gives me a small nod before slipping the joint between my pursed lips.
His other hand finds mine, interlacing our fingers together. “Now just breathe in.”
I do as I’m told, my eyes watering as a burning sensation encompasses my lungs. Before I can take in a breath of fresh air, I’m coughing. My throat stings as the smoke billows out of my mouth.
“Congrats!” Luke states with amusement, a sly grin tickling at the side of his lip. “You’re a big girl now.”
Jackson hops up immediately, rushing over to the kitchen.
The coughs continue as tears begin to spill down my cheeks, and I’ve never been more thankful to see a glass of water as I am when Jackson walks back over.
He hands me the glass, the condensation on the side feeling cool against my palm.
I take a few sips, thankful for the way the cold liquid soothes the burn.
“Jesus Christ.” I murmur, setting the drink down. The feeling of panic begins to race through my veins. “I feel weird.” I sputter out without a second thought.
This pulls a snort from Saint, who’s watching me as though I’m some science experiment.
“It’s not the weed, princess.” Luke hums, leaning forward until his elbows are rested against his knees.
The smell of his heavy cologne wafts off of him, filling the air with a mix of marijuana and leather.
“It’s the oxygen deprivation you gave yourself while trying to cough up a lung.
” The stark contrast of his eyes gathers all my attention as he finishes off.
“But don't worry, the drugs will hit soon enough.”