Chapter 14 Surprise! #2
This sigh comes all the way from my toes. "You're not wrong. Hopefully he figures out that option will never happen so we can all move on." I change the subject, reveling in the feel of his thumb shifting against the fine bones of the top of my foot. “ So, I ate a whole gummy."
"Yeah, you did," he says on a chuckle.
"What's gonna happen? All I know is what I've seen on TV, which is that I'm going to be very dumb and laugh a lot."
"Everybody's different, and different strains of weed do different things. This one…well, I'll be honest--I don't love it, but it's what we've got. It's more of a…body high. You might feel heavy, tingly. If I take too much, I get couch locked. Like I can't get up."
"Do you do a lot of weed?"
Grey snorts a laugh. "Do weed," he says to himself. "No, not a lot. Usually just in off season when I can't sleep."
"When did you do weed for the first time?"
"High school, prom night. I was so high, Molly, and when we got there and I won prom king I had to give a speech. Clearly I didn't think I'd win."
"What did you say?" I ask, laughing.
"I have no fucking clue. And everybody else I was with was too high to remember it right either.
They all had a different story. I think I blacked out.
But nobody knew we were high. Or if they did, they didn't say so.
I remember standing next to the principal in front of the microphone sweating like a pig and then nothing. "
"Prom king! Were you popular, Grey?"
He shrugs and scoffs, but I see the smudge of color in his cheeks.
"Nah, I just played baseball. You know the worst time I got high?
In college, somebody left a pan of brownies sitting out.
I thought they were vegan brownies because they tasted a little weird and some vegan girl brought them, but it didn't stop me from eating four of them.
Turns out it wasn't the vegan bit that made them taste weird--it was the three grams of weed. "
I snort a laugh. "I wonder if I'll have a crazy story to tell after tonight? I don't have any crazy stories. My stories are bor-ring."
"God, I don't know if I can handle a crazy story. But I'd do it for you. Everybody should have a crazy story or two."
"What was the last crazy story you collected?"
I watch as his smile fades, see every little increment shift until he looks a little sad. I hate it.
"I dunno," His tone is neutral. I'm not even sure is expression is exaggerated other than the fact that I can actually see it.
"Maybe college. It's been a long time since there was time or space for wild nights.
Now I go to bed at ten on the nose. Talk about boring.
" His crooked smile is back, but it doesn't meet his eyes.
I'm reminded of the other day when he said he was too old. For me, was the rest of that sentence, I think. Right? What else could it be? But that would imply he'd thought about it, at the very least. He didn't answer me then. I wonder if he will now and open my mouth to ask.
A knock raps at the door.
"Dinner," Grey says, hauling himself to answer.
I cup Scout's face and rub my nose on hers. "Maybe I can get him to tell me. What do you think?"
She just purrs, so I kiss the top of her head and deposit her on the couch so I can clean off the coffee table. Grey has two bags, stuffed to the gills. He holds them up like a prize.
"In here?" he asks.
"If it's okay with you. We can sit at the table if you want, but that sounds pthhh."
He chuckles and sets the bags on the coffee table, sitting on the couch in front of them. I plop down on the floor at the end and rip one bag open while he does the other one.
"Wow. Hungry?" I ask when I retrieve the sixth and last carton. I dump the packets of duck sauce and napkins out.
"Hey. I'm a growing boy. Beef and broccoli." He hands me a carton. "I got you white rice."
"Oh thank god. Brown rice is an abomination in the world of Chinese takeout."
He pops open one of the Styrofoam containers. "Egg rolls." Another one. "Dumplings." And the last. "Crab Rangoon."
My eyes widen at the sight of them, my hands blindly opening a pair of chopsticks. "How did I forget about Crab Rangoon?" I pick one up and stuff it into my mouth. My salivary glands explode, eyes rolling back in my head, and I moan. "Whumuguh, shuh goo."
I have a dumpling loaded and waiting for me to swallow the unsafe amount of fried delight in my mouth. When I shove it down the hatch, he laughs.
"Easy there, turbo." He digs around in his lo mien, and I'm mesmerized by his mouth as he brings it to his lips, the slippery noodles against them, his tongue when it draws them into his mouth.
I blink, turning to my beef and broccoli.
"I was wondering," he starts, and I'm instantly rapt and staring at his mouth again. He never wonders out loud. "Did you always want to be a librarian? You read a lot as a kid, right?"
"I did, like so much. And while my librarian was my best friend when I was between the ages of eight and twelve, no. I wanted to be a marine biologist." I giggle, popping some beef into my mouth. "It's funny now--. I'm terrified of open water, and I'm downright phobic about sharks."
He laughs at that. Like for real laughs. I want more, so I launch into a story in the hopes I'll be rewarded.
"Like I'm so scared of sharks that I was playing this video game--"
"You play video games?"
"I do. I'm terrible at them but that's why easy mode exists.
Anyway, so my quest is to dive into this underwater grotto and get something, but there are sharks down there, and in the game, you can't use a weapon underwater-- …
you have to punch the sharks. Punch them.
With your hands. Which, of course, I'm like absolutely not.
So I get my bow and arrow and climb out on this branch--mind you I am way out of range to hit any of them.
" He's laughing at regular intervals, and I bask in the sound.
"So for like twenty minutes I'm sweating trying to shoot those assholes, getting like two of them before I finally give up.
I have to just do it. So I dive in. Start swimming for them, pumping myself up, because I'm about to fist fight several sharks.
And like the second they see me they're charging me and that's it--.
I lose it. I'm screaming and mashing the buttons and punching them and there's blood in the water but I don't know if it's theirs or mine and my life flashes before my eyes until finally, mercifully, they go limp and start to float to the surface and I swear to God, Grey--I have never been so scared in my life. "
We're both giggling like idiots for several minutes before I sober, pausing.
"Do you think fish know they're wet?"
A big, deep belly laugh bursts out of him, and he can't stop, and then I can't either.
He's just sitting there on my couch with his lo mien in one hand and his chopsticks in the other, forearms resting on his spread thighs, his smile big and perfect and blinding.
I want to see it every day. Bonus points if I get to put it there.
When we've settled down enough and Grey is wiping his eyes, I dig back into my dinner, but my chopsticks won't work.
Frowning, I inspect them. "I think they're broken.
Why are my fingers so long? Have they always been this long?
" And then it dawns on me. My gaze snaps up to Grey's, face split in a grin. "Wait! Am I high?"
"Yeah, peaches--. Pretty sure we both are."
I wonder then if I'm going to make some bad decisions.
I kind of hope I do.