Page 16 of Secondhand Smoke
Rough around the edges, the house was a breath of fresh air from the suffocation she’d been feeling under her parents’ pristine roof. The scent of cigarettes was better than her mother’s detergent, and she found the organized disarray betterthan the sparkling cleanliness her parents hid behind. It was transparent, and comfy, and honest. Just like Barrett, who picked something off the couch cushion and stuffed it into his pocket, so she couldn’t see it, before gesturing for her to take a seat.
She’d never in her life imagined she would prefer Barrett to anyone else, but he was probably the only person she knew who wouldn’t try to talk her out of her bad choices.
He had everything to gain and nothing to lose by letting her fall into self-destruction. She was the one with cash in her pocket, and rumor had it he never turned down a solid buck.
She sat on the hard couch and adjusted herself into a comfortable position as he fluttered around her, gathering some things from the side table and whisking them to a garbage can. She huffed a soft laugh.
Barrett, a supposed satanic cultist, ran around like a chicken with his head cut off to tidy things around her. He was about as distracting as drugs.
“You don’t need to worry about that,” Nell said while he wiped down the coffee table with a rag. “I don’t mind.”
He paused and looked up at her, a sheepish smile on his face. “Right, sorry.” He rubbed his palms along the sides of his jeans and backed away. “I’ll go grab the stuff.”
He turned and disappeared through the kitchen. After some shuffling down the hall, Barrett was back with a small bag in hand. He held it up and grinned, throwing it onto the coffee table, where it landed with a soft rustle.
Nell pitched forward in her seat to get a better look. The contents of the baggie were dark-greenish clumps of herbs.
She frowned.
“What’s wrong?” Barrett asked. Despite there being plenty of space next to Nell on the sofa, he’d taken a seat on thehard ground instead, where he had the perfect view of her disappointment.
She blinked rapidly, a little embarrassed he’d caught her dissatisfaction. He frowned too, blinking up at her with big brown eyes.
“Nothing.” She bit her lip and looked away so he couldn’t see her.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him lean forward, so she had nowhere to turn and he could see her face.
“I can tell you’re lying.”
“It’s just … I thought you’d have something stronger,” she mumbled, not wanting to upset him. She wasn’t good at telling people no.
To her surprise, he laughed. She turned to see him leaning back with his legs out in front of him and his lands propping him up.
“Of course I do. Just not for you.”
She furrowed her brows, now looking at him straight on. “What?”
“Normally, I wouldn’t care. But there’s no way I’m letting you go straight into that shit your first time.” He shrugged.
“Is it that bad?”
He blinked, his mouth open. “Oh, darling, and that right there is why we’re starting with this.” He picked up the bag and opened it up. “Some simple dope.”
Nell said nothing because if she tried, she would trip over her words. It was embarrassing how little she knew about this stuff, especially since she was the one who’d practically begged Barrett to sell it to her out of desperation.
Any high was better than no high.
“Fine.” She sat up straighter. “Dope it is.”
He nodded and grabbed a stack of small papers she hadn’t really noticed, before sitting on the table. While she watched,he pulled some of the weed out of the bag and placed it on the paper. With a few expert moves, it was rolled up and combined into a seemingly perfect joint that he held out to her between ring-studded fingers.
She looked from it to him, his long, dark lashes especially apparent in the light. He nodded to urge her on.
For a second, she doubted herself. She would have never imagined herself in this position: considering accepting a joint from Scott Barrett alone in his house.
This wasn’t who she was a year ago.
But she’d become many things in less than a year, and a nervous disaster was one of them. The tightening in her chest reminded her of that. It reminded her of all the times she’d collapsed, trying to breathe, but her body wouldn’t let her. It reminded her of all the times the world felt like it would end in her locked bedroom.
