CHAPTER 46 ELODIE
ELODIE
They leave me alone once Alf gets me dried and dressed.
I don’t protest while Fiz watches everything.
He doesn’t shoot me any obscene jokes, doesn’t smack my ass or even winks.
It doesn’t matter what it means, doesn’t matter if this has been some turning point for him.
I won’t ever see them again after tonight.
I wait it out a while, waiting for the perfect plan to form. But it doesn’t come. I’m going to have to wing it. The first step is making sure everyone’s in their bedrooms and finding out where those damn dogs go at night. I’m screwed if they sleep by the doors.
I creep over to the door and step out into the hallway. All the lights are off, I’m immersed in darkness, and it welcomes me with open arms.
As I make my way along the downstairs hallway, I see a glow of light coming through the door. I sigh, knowing it’s game over, but I still continue through. I’ll see who it is and scout for the dogs while I’m down here, at least I can note it for later.
When I reach the kitchen, however, I’m greeted by a fog and the unique sweet aroma of weed. I fan my way through the smoke and find Fiz sitting alone on the couch.
He mustn’t’ve heard me, so I creep in. He’s surrounded by smoke, joint in his hand, Bob by the end of the sofa asleep. Probably got stoned from the fumes, the poor bastard.
Fiz has his head tilted back on the sofa, blowing a thin line of smoke up to the ceiling to swirl around with the rest of his exhales.
There’s music playing. “It’s A Vibe” by 2 Chainz vibrates through the massive speakers by the flat screen in front of him, although it’s at a mellow volume.
He’s slightly swaying his head side to side, completely zoned out.
I inch into the kitchen, careful not to disturb him. I help myself to some juice and spy the front doors. The other two dogs aren’t anywhere to be seen. That’s a good sign.
I take the glass and try to creep back out.
“I don’t know what to do, Bob,” Fiz mumbles. It’s slurred and dragged out. He’s high out of his mind.
I look to Bob by his feet, he’s out cold.
I can’t help myself. “Perhaps start off by growing a heart inside that hollow chest of yours.”
It doesn’t startle him, or he’s just too mangled for his nervous system to work. The corners of his lips quirk up though. “Ah, Sleeping Beauty, what are you up to?”
“Thirsty.”
“Oh, right.”
He’s moving his head to the beat of “Hello” by Pop Smoke now.
I’m waiting for the obscene quip. I got something you can drink. Or Throat dry from all that dick sucking? But nothing comes.
“Well, goodnight,” I say, and continue towards the door.
“Wait, Sleeping Beauty.”
I roll my eyes. “What is it, Fiz?”
Finally, he rolls his head to the side and opens an eye at me. He holds out his half-smoked joint. “You wanna get high?”
“No, thank you.” I couldn’t think of anyone worse to lose my wits around than this guy. “Never tried. Never appealed to me.”
“Takes the edge off sometimes, you know?”
“I thought you liked dangling off the edge.”
He exhales smoke through a laugh. “Yeah, but even I need to pull back from time to time. When I get too close to tipping over.”
I purse my lips, tapping my foot. Desperately fighting with myself not to care. I do not care.
There’s that glimpse of humanity in his eye again.
Not grief this time. There’s a laziness there, almost exhaustion, like he’s been carrying around a weight that’s finally broken his back.
The features that are always pinched around a taunting, menacing smirk, now lax and smoothed, draw me in a little.
“Well, I’m glad you’re not tipping over,” I mutter, “would hate to have to deal with that if the version of you I already get on a daily basis is actually you on the right side of the edge.”
Another chuckle and this time it’s amused, light and endearing. “Come sit with me,” he says, squinting at me through the smoke. “You don’t have to get high just – chill.”
“Are you gonna point a gun in my face if I say no?”
He giggles then. Outright giggles, the pinch of his cheeks closing the remaining slit of his eyes. The dimples appear. The ones that make him look harmless and adorable. “Only free will here tonight, darling.”
This side of Fiz is already pulling me in. It’s an even more alluring version than the quiet, pensive Fiz I had upstairs earlier. It’s nice to see something other than predatory menace on him.
I walk over and plant myself on the armchair. He watches me, head lolled to the side, eyes bloodshot. I notice an open packet of chocolate biscuits to the side of him. I purse my lips, unsure why I feel the urge to smile.
My throat clenches around a ball of cotton. Now I’m sitting closer to him, I can see those tempting, beautiful features up close. I take a gulp of my juice. “You missed it?” I gesture to the joint in his hand as “One Dance” by Drake starts.
“Fuck yes.” He taps the tip of it into the ashtray perched on the seat beside him, bobbing his head subtly to the beat of the song. “I like The Hunt and the Cleanse and all but… fuck if I don’t love my vices.”
I let myself grin. His voice is so different too. It’s quiet and relaxed and… inviting. Even silkier than usual. He’s a totally different person to the one who’s tormented me for weeks.
His eyes study me lazily. “How are you, you know, after earlier?”
I purse my lips. “Fine. It’s what I get for saving his life, right? Don’t know why I expected anything to change.”
Fiz gives me a crooked smile. “Regardless, I’m grateful. That you saved him.”
I shrug, shoving away the sensation of Fiz’s lips crashing onto mine. “Hard to say no when you’re faced with death yourself.”
He nods slowly. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I was panicking.”
“I get it. For that one time only, I actually understood your motives.”
He takes another puff, blowing it out slowly. “I couldn’t do it myself. Me and needles don’t go well together.”
I incline my head. Of course, the flawless, untouched skin that I’m reluctantly drawn to. No piercings, no tattoos like his peers. Even when faced with a crisis, he couldn’t. “Any reason?”
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “No reason that won’t make us both depressed as shit.”
I nod. “Fair enough.”
A moment of silence passes and, dare I say, it’s a comfortable one. This guy’s not got an evil aura when he’s stoned out of his brain.
“I never told you how impressed I was about what you did to Caden,” he says, eyeing me intensely.
“Which part?” He could be referring to the several occasions I’ve attacked him, stabbed him with a scalpel, pulled him down the stairs with me, head butted him, spat in his face… Damn, when I put it like that… no wonder he can’t stand me. Maybe we’re two sides of the same coin.
“Riding him while he’s unconscious and on death’s door.”
I feel my cheeks flush. I forgot about that one. “Nowhere near as bad as what you guys do all the time.”
“But it was bad. For you.” His lips curl up again. “I’m proud of you. Taking something back. Takes guts to do something like that. Especially to someone like Caden.”
I squeeze my legs together, the phantom sensation of him between them floating back to me and causing heat to travel through my middle.
“Yeah well, I think I’m still owed a lot more that I won’t ever get, apparently.”
“Ah…” he drags from the joint, “you mean the whole ‘no coming’ problem.”
I nod.
His heavy-lidded eyes travel lazily down my body, lingering on my middle. He stubs the butt out and then grabs a small wooden box beside him. “Come here.”
I frown. “I’m good.”
“I’ll show you how to roll a joint. If you ever fancy one, you can help yourself.”
I arch a brow. “At what cost?”
He chuckles, bringing out some papers and a plastic bag. “Weed’s like the cheapest thing we’ll ever own. It’s pennies, girl, don’t worry about it. Get over here.” He beckons me over.
I get up sheepishly as “Wait For U” by Future comes on. “Is this High Fiz saying this and when I get Sober Fiz back tomorrow, I’ll get a whipping for smoking his weed?”
He grins at me. “We’re the same person, baby.”
I scoff, dropping next to him. “There’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told me.”
His grin grows wider, and he props up a hand, extending his pinky. “Promise.”
I arch a brow at him. “Really?”
“I told you, I take these very seriously.”
I purse my lips, then hook my little finger around his. A current of something warm and tingly shoots through me.
I drop my hand and he offers me a long white rizla paper.
“Sticky side facing you.” I hold it out.
“Pop the roach in.” He rips a bit of card and rolls it up, drops it in one end of the paper.
“You put some tobacco in first. I wouldn’t recommend smoking pure, it’ll fuck you up.
” He rips a cigarette and sprinkles the tobacco in.
“How much is up to you. We’ll start small.
” He grabs the bag next, pulling out a nugget of weed.
He breaks it up into smaller bits and places it in a grinder. “Grind it up nice and small…”
I’m supposed to be paying attention to what he’s doing, but all I can focus on is the long column of his neck.
How smooth his dark skin looks when it’s this relaxed.
Or the swoop of his body laid out on the couch like this, butt nearly off the edge of the seat, so comfortable, so at ease.
I catch the twist of cords of muscle in his forearms as he grinds the weed up and I shove away the burst of flutters that strikes deep in my belly.
“And then sprinkle it in.” He opens the grinder and taps the side of it, the weed sprinkling into the rizla.
He has nice fingers. Nice hands. Veiny, strong.
“And Bob’s your uncle.”
“And Fanny’s your aunt.” I must be getting high off the fucking smoke.
He coughs a laugh. “Exactly.” He pinches the paper from me and holds it up to my mouth. “Now lick the shiny strip.”
I rear my neck back. “No, you do it.”
“Come on, baby, give me that pretty tongue.”