The Effects Of Laughing Gas

Chapter 2

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GREY

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When I pulled up to the school parking lot and cut the engine, I just sat there for a moment. 

I slapped a random girl's butt yesterday. Fuck Jason for not taking me home. I could only remember bits and pieces but of course my brain chose to let me remember the moment I attacked her ass most vividly, and replay it with increasing horror.

I quietly contemplated just staying in my car for the rest of the day. Then I glanced outside and nearly screamed in fright. 

She was right there. Staring right at me.

I took a couple calming breaths and rolled down my window.

"Hey," she said. I noticed a few faint freckles along her nose. It made her otherwise stunning features seem more down-to-earth.

I smiled hesitantly, hoping I wasn't giving off the same vibe I gave yesterday. Crazy. Creepy. Abso-fucking-lutely high.

"Hey," I greeted. A few seconds passed awkwardly. "Look, uh, about yesterday..."

Emily waved a dismissing hand. Various bracelets on her wrist bangled noisily. "Let's not dreg up the past, shall we? Let bygones be bygones."

I just sat there for a moment. Slap a girl's ass and this is what happens? I should do this more often.

Emily read my expression. "Just don't go around doing that on a regular basis," she said.

Oh. I was just kidding, anyways. Sort of.

I looked at her awkwardly for a second before grabbing my backpack and getting out of the car. "Uh, wanna... wanna walk together?"

"Sure."

So we walked. I made sure to walk steadily beside her because one, it was just polite, and two, I just remembered that she had a great ass and I'd slapped it and she was wearing form-fitting jeans that made it look fantastic.

"So," I quickly said, trying to get my mind off her derrière. "I haven't seen you around here. Are you a transfer student?"

Emily glanced at me, sweeping her chocolate hair neatly over a shoulder. "Yeah, actually. Transferred here a week ago."

"Wow, from where?"

"Other side of town - Jamerson High."

I nearly choked. "Jamerson High? That's -"

"A school renowned for delinquents, I know. One of the reasons we moved, actually," Emily said, fiddling with a lock of hair. "I only had one year left, too."

"Then why'd you come?" I asked without thinking.

Emily seemed to stiffen for a moment, but realxed so quickly that I thought I imagined it. "Some stuff happened. Bullying, fights, the works."

She was bullied? Fights? No wonder her parents didn't want her to stay.

"I'm sorry," I began. "I shouldn't have -"

"No, it's fine," Emily cut in. "I fell into the wrong crowd - I'm glad my parents decided to move."

I stopped dead. Fell into the wrong crowd?

"You mean you were the one bullying?" I said, flabbergasted.

Emily shot me a dark look. "What, just because I'm short and girly-looking, I have to be the one that's bullied? I win my fights."

I sputtered for a moment. "But, why -"

"I didn't bully. I don't even know why I used that word. That's what the counselor insisted. I fought back." Emily began to talk heatedly. "They think I'm going to put up with degrading comments and insults? As if. Bimbos who want to 'put me in my place' for being halfway decent looking? Catfight, indeed."

I continued to watch her rant, mystified. Her brown eyes were bright with anger, her freckled cheeks flushed red. She definitely wasn't who she seemed to be.

Grey, you are so fucked.

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EMILY

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When I felt his hand make contact with my butt, I saw red. The stinging in my buttcheek was non-consequential in comparison to the surge in my temper. And the stinging in my hand after I slapped him was the most satisfied I had felt in a long time.

Of course, later, when I realized his ass attack was acually a misguided attempt to rescue me, the reason for the pink hue of my face quickly changed from fury to mortification. I honestly hadn't even the considered that his slurred explanation would be true. He looked like all the other druggies in school: good-looking, but completely stoned.

 After my initial fury and shame passed, I realized that he was actually completely adorable. The other druggies woud always shout degrading comments at me.

"That shirt looks tight! Take it off, baby!" one hollered.

"Yeah, hotstuff! Your head would look great between my legs!" the other added, dissolving into giggles.

"Get over here on my pee-wee, sweet cheeks," the last one called. The other two paused and looked at him.

"Dude," one of them slurred. "Pee-wee?"

"Not cool, dude," the other agreed.

It was actually sort of entertaining, sometimes. Their brains are were so completely fried, it was impossible to be insulted.

Instead, he, whose name I would later learn was Grey, was so innocent under the influence of drugs that I had to resist pinching his cheeks. Coupled with his grey eyes that stared guilelessly at me when he spoke, I was an absolute goner.

Suffice to say, I formed crushes easily. Unfortunately, once guys got past my innocent 'doe-eyes' and 'sweet, freckled girl-next-door' look, they quickly lost interest. Wimps. Or maybe not.

To put it simply, I was a violent psycho.

It was only one of the many phrases used to describe me. Jamerson High was perfect for me. Oh, sure, when I first got there, I was severely underestimated. Then some pyromaniac from the debate team tried to set my shirt on fire because it was the same one she wore that day.

Now that was an interesting fight.

But, Grey. Well, well. It only took a few looks from his seriously stoned eyes to win me over. I'm such a pushover.

Grey - aptly named. His grey eyes are no doubt his best feature. Definitely one of the most attractive guys I have ever seen. Usually, guys who look like him are confident and somewhat cocky. Yet he is so endearingly sweet that it's impossible to hold his looks against him.

He looked terrified when I showed up at his car. Not that I was stalking him. I noticed him park near my car. About ten spaces down. Across the parking lot.

Alright, so I had my eye out for him. He's cute enough to warrant it. I counted it as a small victory when he asked to walk together. Then again, I've probably just blown it by showing my true colors.

Oh, well. Better late than never.

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This is more of a filler chapter. More to come!

The photo is of Emily.