Page 74 of The Love of My Next Life
And I fucking hate myself, too. For my weakness. For my selfishness.
Julian stands next to me and slaps the bag of weed to my chest. I snag it, then I hit Sam with a dead stare.
“Not anymore.”
I turn and walk out of the backyard without another word, and I hope like hell she didn’t see through to the truth in my words.
When I get to the new house, I climb out my bedroom window and onto the roof. This place doesn’t feel like home, yet. I don’t know if it ever will. The place I feel most comfortable is leaning on the door jamb outside of Lennon’s bedroom. Waiting on her, like always.
The second-best place is right here on the roof.
I slap my sketchpad and pencil on the shingles next to me and open the baggie. I send a silent thank you to Julian when I see that he included two joints with the bud. I toss my grinder back inside the window and spark up. I lie back, close my eyes, and pull the marijuana deep into my lungs.
It’s so much fucking better than cigarettes.
I smoke half the joint and make myself stop, stubbing it out carefully before slipping it and the other joint into my pack. Then I prop my body against my window, flip to a blank page in my sketchpad, and create.
* * *
“Mornin’,”I say gruffly as I step into the kitchen, giving my mom a hug and kissing her on the head.
“Good morning, sweetie,” she greets back.
I glance at the kitchen island where Claire and Lennon are sitting. Claire is scrolling through her phone with her middle finger brandished in my direction—charming—but Lennon gives me a small smile.
“Morning,” she says, then focuses on her juice. I drag my attention away from her and back to my mom.
“Where’s Trent?” I ask, pouring a cup of coffee. This whole Beaver-Cleaver-Happy-Family morning routine is weird as fuck, but I’m trying my damnedest to fall in line.
“On base,” Lennon answers, pulling my eyes back to her. “He’s had to be there early all week.”
“Admiral training,” Claire jokes, and Lennon rolls her eyes. We may not be allowed to know the details of Trent’s job, but we all know he’s not about to be an admiral.
“We’re still going to have a family dinner tonight, though,” my mom chimes in, handing me a package of S’mores Pop-Tarts.
I rip open the package and take a bite out of them, just right into both of the pastries like I always do, but halt mid-chew when I catch the look Lennon is throwing me.
“What?” I mumble. My mouth is full of Pop-tart, which makes her scrunch her nose up even more.
“You’re just gonna...tear into ‘em like that?” she asks. “Just...go to town on ‘em without toasting or anything?”
My lips curl up. She’s so fucking cute. I take another bite.
“I take every opportunity possible to raw dog.”
Lennon spits juice out of her mouth, Claire groans something likeoh my god that’s disgusting, and my mom hits me so hard in the stomach I almost choke.
“Fuck, Ma,” I laugh out, wrapping my arm around my torso and jumping away from her. “It’s just a joke!”
“You do not talk to your sister like that,” she scolds, and everyone in the kitchen freezes. My mom’s hand flies to her mouth and her eyes go wide, and then she giggles. Then Claire giggles.
Lennon and I don’t join in on the glee.
“We’re gonna be sisters!” Claire squeals, then throws her arms around Lennon in a hug. Lennon laughs, but it’s fake as fuck, and she darts her eyes away from me.
“Can’t wait,” she says. She pats Claire’s back then shrugs out of the hug. No one but me seems to notice how uncomfortable she is, or if they do, they just don’t fucking care.
“Oh, Mom,” Claire says, “can we do family dinner tomorrow? It’s the last home game tonight, and the players’ girlfriends are running concessions.”
