𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐲

Chapter 55

— Chapter 55 —
My Darling, So Naive

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N O A H

"Nothing?"

The prettiest bartender in the world offered me a slow-moving grin. "Nope."

"Come on," I said, "You've smoked through three blunts in the last half-hour and you expect me to believe you don't feel anything?"

Elliot chuckled. "Is it really so mind-blowing to think that I'm capable of out-smoking you?"

"Nobody's capable of out-smoking me, sugar."

He folded his hands into the pockets of his jeans and teased me. "So you say, and yet you're struggling to keep your eyes open, aren't you?"

"I can see plenty."

Alright. So maybe we hadn't left the truck immediately after Chains came looking for us.

It was my fault, really. I lit up another blunt, and just like that, Elliot and I managed to get ourselves fried. Or I did, at least. We barely made it up to the porch. Mostly because I couldn't walk in a straight line, and because Elliot didn't have the upper body strength to carry me. But it was amusing to watch him try.

The weed-induced smile wouldn't wipe off his face. "You can hold onto me if you want, sugar," he hummed. "I promise I won't let you kiss the floor."

He's so pretty.

I hoped I didn't say that one out loud. "Jealous of the floor now, are we? You wanna get all up on this and pucker up and kiss me..."

My singsonging made him blush.

"Shut your mouth," he mumbled, clumsily pushing my jaw up with his palms. People were beginning to stare at us as we walked back into the house, and Elliot's cheeks were as beet red as his eyes. "You're so high."

A small grin pulled on my lips. Stepping through the crowd at the front door, we finally made it back inside, and Elliot used me as a human shield to push past all the inebriated people. He mumbled something about my muscles being made of titanium steel.

While he was busy suffering from the attention of people passing by, I slung my arm over his shoulders and smirked.

"You know, I distinctly remember you almost greening out after a few edibles and a little tequila. Crave? Remember that?"

"I didn't know they were edibles," he pouted, "and Chains likes the strong stuff. You said so yourself."

I laughed. "Oh... you could never out-smoke me, Love. Just admit it. Admit you feel woozy and I'll let it go."

The two of us pushed through the crowd into an expansive living room. From the blurry shapes in my vision, I could make out the vague figures of Shooter and Chains by a big amp in the corner.

"I don't feel woozy," Elliot promised.

"So you say, and yet you've been touchy with me ever since we stepped out of that truck."

I got chills down my spine just thinking about it—the electricity of Elliot's hands gripping my hair, his trembling breaths against my skin, the warmth of his body melting into my own while we made every attempt to fucking consume each other. And Elliot's laughter... those gentle smiles of his, and the dimple in his left cheek... that kind of purity was beautiful.

In his presence, I just felt like I was floating. Lost in a sea of stars. Weightless. It was as if someone had finally drawn the curtains, letting me absorb every color of the rainbow in high definition after spending so many years caught in bleak folds of black and white.