Page 316 of Vicious Saint
Whaddya know? Hendrix was right.
Because when Theory inhales the second time, it’s with very little violence, and a lot of satisfaction.
“Oh, that’s good.” She stares down at the blunt, then helps herself to another pull. “Really good.”
“Alright, alright.” I huff a laugh and motion for Theory to hand over the goods, and when she does, it’s with a newfound sense of grace.
In other words…the exact opposite of me going sip for toke for over five minutes.
“Your turn, Arch.” I wiggle my eyebrows at my best friend. “You know you want to.”
He purses his lips. “I do not.”
“Oh, my fuck, dude! Live a little!” I practically shove the blunt into his hand. “And don’t you dare try and pull an ‘I don’t know how to smoke’, because I caught your drunk ass with a cigarette at one of Sampson’s parties.”
“Well, shit.” Saint blows out a breath. “Someone call this guy a priest.”
“Fuck off, Lavell,” Archer mutters through an intense stare down with a rolled piece of paper. Then a while, and I mean awhilelater, he shoots it to his lips and inhales.
Holds.
Exhales.
Without fucking coughing!
What in the good guy in the streets, freak in the blunt sheets is this shit?
“Dude!” I chuckle in astonishment. “You have so much explaining to do!”
With that, Archer rolls his eyes and passes the blunt back to Theory.
Which gets intercepted by Saint.
“That’s enough for tonight,” he grits out, keeping a testy eye on me and Theory.
Yeah, I’m not about to push the envelope on this one.
Theory’s lack of rebuttal tells me she isn’t either.
Holding two hands up in defense, I say nothing as he returns to smoking, the rest of the blunt being shared between him andLeviathan as we discuss potential shows or movies to watch next.
“The Bachelor,” Archer suggests as he aims the remote behind me at the T.V. screen.
I grimace. “Hard no.”
Channel flip. “Jersey Shore.”
“Harder no.” Theory shakes her head.
“The Kissing Booth.”
Saint’s face contorts. “The fuck is that about?”
Archer’s response is as instant as it is dry. “I don’t know. Someone falling in love with the best friend’s sibling or some shit.”
“Fuck no,” Leviathan grunts his disapproval.
Okie dokie.
