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It has been 30 minutes since Charlie locked me in his room and left to go have a word with Ryan-whatever that means

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It has been 30 minutes since Charlie locked me in his room and left to go have a word with Ryan-whatever that means. At least I know he's not going to be with Alexis since I watched her leave in a fury a few minutes after we confirmed the baked goods I was stuffing my face with have cannabis in it.

All my 19 years of living, in the interest of keeping my lungs as intact as possible, I've never smoked weed-or cigarettes. I've come across edibles before. Elle ordered some to our apartment in freshman
to some met on Snapchat. I didn't try it because it smelt like a mixture of cocoa powder and body odour. Secondly, I've read about people having a bad reaction to edibles because some dealers mix other stuff in them. I've never been high before and after 30 minutes of drinking lemon water just as Charlie has instructed, I'm starting to think there's no such thing as a high.

I'm fine.

The only thing making me crazy is being locked inside Charlie Murtaugh's room.

I don't stand around daydreaming about his room so I don't know what I expected exactly but this isn't what I expected. For starters, it's the most minimalistic room I've ever seen. Forest green walls, a double bed with a black frame and white sheets sitting on a marble printed rug-which goes perfectly with the redwood floors that cover the entire house. My eyes slide over to the left side of the bed where a houseplant is seated beside the nightstand and a standing tree lamp. To the right is the door to his bathroom and another to what I presume should be his closet. Sitting between the two single windows is a black shoe rack. A white commodore which houses the TV and infusers sits opposite the bed. The yellow lights fixed in the four corners of the ceiling cast a warm glow on the room. There's an IKEA painting set on the wall behind the bed and two drawings I presume would be Mila's on the walls behind the shoe rack.

There are two floating shelves behind his computer-small picture frames perch on the top one whilst some textbooks sit on the one beneath it. I've been too busy staring at the TV and waiting for the high to kick in that it didn't occur to me that this is my first time in Charlie's room. This is his space. And what better way to get to know him than to snoop around a little.

Excited at the thought of finding a dirty secret of Charlie's, I put the movie I wasn't paying attention to on pause and stand from where I'm seated on the edge of the bed to the picture frame. There are 3 pictures. The first one is a picture of Charlie and a man at the beach in a red swimsuit. He's younger-about 5 or 6. He's sitting on the older man's shoulder and they're both grinning at the camera-him with braced teeth.

I snigger. Charlie had braces. Who woulda thunk?

Judging from the similarities between him and the man, it's no debating that's his dad.

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