22. Harper
Chapter 22
Harper
A cloying mixture of weed and vape and cigarettes hits me when I walk into the games room. I’m one of only three girls in this room—the rest are all guys. Some are playing pool. Two guys I think I recognize from science class are battling it out on a console in front of a massive flat screen. The rest have congregated by the bar, obnoxiously loud as they laugh and joke. The downstairs music is little more than a thumping bass line. The rattatattattatta from the PlayStation pierces the air. Apparently I’m the only one bothered by the noise.
Sean calls me over to the couch where he’s sitting with a buddy of his. I recognize the guy from Jude’s football practice. Most of the guys in here are on the football team, in fact. As soon as Sean sees my drink is empty, he gets up to go get me another, leaving me with his friend.
“Eric,” the guy says, sticking out a hand. “I’m on the team with your brother.”
I dip my chin a little and shake his hand reluctantly. Guess Jude would have found out about me being here one way or the other, but what are the chances I’d run into one of his friends? I didn’t even know he had friends. It’s not as if he ever invites anyone over to the house and, outside of football practice, I’ve never even seen him talking to anyone at school.
Guess he’s not the loner I thought he was.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, extricating my hand as soon as I can without seeming rude. Sean comes back with my drink and falls down onto the couch, nearly bouncing me from the cushion. The cup is so full, punch sloshes over my hand and lands on my new jeans.
“Shit, sorry babe.” Sean wipes at my leg until I move it out of reach.
“It’s okay. It’ll dry.” I take tiny sips from the glass. The first one I downed is finally starting to work its magic, and I don’t want to overdo it. Not around strangers. But there are so many people here, I feel kinda safe. I mean, no one’s going to try anything in a crowd like this, right?
A guy comes up to us and holds out a joint to us. Sean doesn’t even hesitate. He sits forward and hits the joint a few times, then passes it to me without even looking in my direction. I stare at it, frozen in place. I have no idea how weed would react to this punch. I’m guessing it won’t be a good combination.
Eric reaches for the joint when he sees I’m not taking it, but I snatch it from Sean’s fingers first.
I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like to be stoned. I’ve had cigarettes, but I don’t really like the aftertaste. Plus, they don’t do anything to me. When Mom smoked weed—which was every other day before we moved into the Dearth house—she’d start dancing on the kitchen table. Every surface in this place is crammed with cups and ashtrays and junk, so I should be just fine.
Plus, when this gets back to Jude, I want him to know just how much fun I had.
“Your brother here too?” Eric asks.
“Please,” I say through a forced laugh. I take a tiny sip from my cup and then gently tug at the joint. Acrid smoke spills down my throat, and I do my best not to cough. “He’d freak if he even knew I was here.”
“He’s a fucking pussy,” Sean says, speaking without exhaling. When he does, a cloud of smoke obscures Eric for a moment. “Only thing he’s interested in is school or football.” Sean barks out a laugh as he takes the joint from my unresisting fingers. “Bet he’s still a fucking virgin.”
For some reason, Sean’s comment irritates me. What’s the big deal with getting your cherry popped anyway? It’s fucking annoying how everyone always seems to laud it like some kind of fucking badge of honor.
“It’s not him, you know,” I blurt out. “It’s his dad. The guy’s like super, super strict.”
“Mr. Dearth?” Eric gets up and comes to sit beside me, forcing me closer to Sean. “Yeah, fuck, I haven’t seen his old man in a while. He used to come to all of Jude’s games. Guess he’s too busy banging your mom, hey?”
My cheeks catch alight, but I manage an easy laugh so they won’t think I’m stuck up.
They lean back, passing the joint behind my back, and I swear they’re communicating because I can feel Eric’s muscles tensing as if he’s gesturing at Sean.
But a second later, they’re both sitting forward, acting as if nothing happened.
So it’s true about weed making a person paranoid.
I laugh and try to take another sip from my cup. Suddenly, my muscles feel loose. I stiffen my spine, but the second I lose concentration, I melt back into the couch. It’s like my body’s made of that goop that goes solid when you squeeze it but runs through your fingers when you let go.
Someone takes away my cup. I’m kinda happy about that because I think I spilled punch on myself again.
“Shit,” I mumble. “Did I make a mess?”
“It’s okay, babe,” Eric says, laying his hand on the wet spot on my thigh as he sinks back. “We’re all just having a good time.”
“Shouldn’t have smoked,” I say through a giggle.
“What, the weed or the crack?”
I turn my head, squinting at Eric. “What’d y’ say?”
“Nothing.” He strokes my thigh. “Just enjoy the high.”
I grin at him, and he tucks my hair behind my ear with a finger. “Another one for luck,” he says, holding out the joint.
I shake my head. “I’m good.”
“Don’t you want to feel even better?” He leans closer, bringing his face within inches of mine. “Tell you what…If you take another hit, I’ll give you a kiss. How does that sound, Harper?”
Eric is plain looking compared to Sean, but he does have pretty lashes and soft brown eyes. Is he a good kisser, though? I don’t want my first time to be with someone who doesn’t know what he’s doing.
“What’s so funny, sweet cheeks?” Eric asks.
“Who’s a better kisser?” I stab a thumb to my side. “You or Sean?”
Eric’s face tightens at that. “Guess you’ll never know,” he says coldly as he starts scanning the room.
“Hey man, relax,” Sean says through a laugh. “She’s fucking stoned.”
Eric purses his lips. “Not stoned enough.” His eyes flicker back, but they settle on Sean, not me. “Let me know when she is.”
I try to follow him through the crowd, but I lose sight of him when Sean grasps my chin and turns my head toward him.
“How are you feeling?”
Now there’s a handsome face. But still not as good-looking as Jude. Not even a little.
Fuck. Why can’t Jude be here? Wait…that’s the last thing I want. I can’t even imagine what he’d do if he found out about this. Which he’s bound to, what with all his so-called friends from the football team.
Sean leans in. His breath warms my face. “Can I kiss you?”
I nod.
He moves closer. “You sure?”
I smile and sit forward a little, closing my eyes. Instead of lips, his thumb brushes my mouth. My eyes pop open, and my body goes lame at the look on his face.
“You’re gorgeous, you know that?” his hand cups my face, holding me still. “Fucking gorgeous.”
I barely feel a thing when our lips touch. It’s as if my face has been numbed by whatever I smoked. I never knew weed was so strong. How often do these kids smoke that this shit doesn’t affect them like it does me? Despite how numb I am, tingles still course through my limbs, congregating at my core. I lean into Sean, doing my best to kiss him back. The sensation at my core intensifies and becomes long, hard strokes.
“What the fuck are you doing?” someone demands from above.
I reluctantly open my eyes, and quiver with dull surprise when I see Sean’s hand between my legs, cupping over the seam of my jeans. It’s not right, I don’t think, but it feels so good that I don’t care.
“You’re being a fucking cunt,” the stranger adds.
I tip my head back and squint up at the guy standing by the couch. There are more people behind him, but they’re indistinguishable blobs.
Sean slides his hand out from between my legs. “Fuck off, Alex. Who even invited you?”
Alex stabs a finger toward Sean. “This is fucked up. I’m taking her home.”
Then everything blurs. I fall onto my side, close my eyes, and curl into a ball as the noise and shouts wash over me. But before I can succumb to the warm oblivion that keeps beckoning me, a pair of strong arms grab me, lift me.
Sean’s face blurs into Jude’s.
I grab his shirt, terrified and aroused at the same time. “Are you mad?” I whisper. “Please don’t be mad.”
“I’m right as rain, babe,” he says.
Wait, that’s not right. Jude would never call me babe.
I free-fall for a split second, and then bounce onto something soft. I roll over onto my side and then my tummy. Deliciously soft and silky sheets. A red light shines in one corner. I can make out sharp lines of furniture blurring into softer shapes as my eyes threaten to close again. A hand tugs at my clothes, and I moan, twisting away.
Something’s wrong. This room, the way I feel, the hands tugging, yanking, pulling.
“Go away,” I mumble. “Go away.”
“I’m not going anywhere, babe,” Sean says, and then laughs. “None of us are.”