Page 35 of Meet Me in the Valley
It’s not loud. It’s not obvious. But it sayseverything.
The further we ride through the grape-laden valleys, every sense of mine turns up a hundred degrees. It’s the connection holding us together when my chest presses into his back. It’s the way his hand moves slowly up and down my calf like I’m his to claim. Or how my heart is beating harder than it should for something that isn’t even supposed tomeananything.
We’re just two friends on a bike, heading to a barbecue.
So why does his touch feel like a promise?
I grip him a little tighter, just to ground myself—but deep down, I know I’m already falling.
Chapter Ten
LOGAN
Something is happening to me. Something unknown, and exciting, and fucking terrifying. I must’ve misread all the signals. Every look, every touch—it’s not a figment of my imagination.
There was something—some force tethering us across time and distance, pulling invisible strings until fate finally brought her back into my orbit that day at freshman orientation.
I’d caught wind through social media that she’d be going to the University of Texas too, but it still knocked me sideways when I saw her in the middle of the crowd—standing there in a Hook ’em Horns tee with a smile a mile wide, glowing like she’d swallowed sunlight.
Now, I watch her from across the fire pit, basking in its warmth as the flames flicker between us. Her face lights up as she lands a perfect toss in a game of corn hole, beating Isabel and Jackson without breaking a sweat.
Her arms shoot up in victory, and her laugh rings out, light and full, completely unfiltered. I’ve heard it a hundred times, but tonight … I don’t know.
It hits a little different. Like I’m hearing it through newfound ears, or maybe I’m justfinallypaying closer attention.
Same smile. Same energy. Same Tia.
Except maybe not. Maybe something’s different now.
Maybe it’s me.
“Wanna hit?” Kerry drops into the empty seat beside me, holding out a still-burning joint. One look at the red rim around his glassy eyes and I can tell he’s already floating.
“What is it? It’s not that shit we smoked last time, is it? Because if it is, I’m gonna have to pass, brother.”
Kerry just laughs, pinching the joint between his fingers and insisting I take it from him. “No. This is a sativa. I promise—no one is going to be asleep on the ground tonight.”
The last bonfire we had at Donovan’s cabin, Kerry and Jackson brought a strain so strong it had us all laid out like crash-test dummies. It was supposed to be a “chill” night. Leave it to the two twenty-two-year-olds to turn a casual hangout into a full-body shutdown.
Tia got hit the hardest. I still laugh every time I think about her staring at a half-eaten hot dog like it was speaking to her before she passed out cold on Donovan’s couch for the rest of the night.
“Alright, yeah. Lemme get that,” I relent, taking it from his fingers. I bring it to my lips and inhale deep, the end glowing bright as the smoke curls into my lungs.
I hold the hit in for a few seconds, letting the burn settle in my chest before slowly exhaling a cloud into the night air.
Thank God they don’t drug test at work—and for California being ahead of the curve on legalization.
I don’t light up often, but when it comes from Kerry King, I’m not about to say no.
“Smooth, right?”
I sink a little deeper into my chair, nodding to Kerry as I tilt my head back and stare up at the sky. The stars are out tonight. So clear and sharp, maybe even a little brighter after that hit.
I keep my gaze on them, letting the soft hum of voices around the fire blur into the background. Laughter blends with the low thrum of music, curling through the air like smoke.
The scent of charcoal still lingers from the grill, earthy and warm, and every now and then a breeze carries the skunky bite of weed through the night air. It all feels distant, like I’m floating just above it.
That’s just the weed talking.
