Lighter

t h r e e

i've never seen a smile that
can light the room like y o u r s . . .

⚡️⚡️⚡️

The storm that was planned to hit us late tonight scared off more people than expected. We were the last group to arrive at Shelley's place just past ten o'clock, and nobody else came after that. Her living room was occupied by maybe a dozen people, and a few were lingering in the kitchen. Other than that, it was more so a gathering than a "party".

Still, Cheyenne and I had a drink or two just because we have nowhere to be tomorrow. And Shelley Hernandez has always been pretty giving when it comes to anything, so she was practically shoving alcohol in our faces. I felt rude to reject her, so I made a weak cocktail and slugged it down, even though drinking really isn't my thing.

Getting high is more my speed, because on more than one occasion in the past, alcohol hasn't been my kindest friend. Little, innocent high school Savannah didn't really understand that though, and just did it because "all my friends drank". Finally, one day it kicked in and I realized the kinds of emotions that rose to the surface when any kind of alcoholic beverage touched my lips. Not only that, it also got me into some shitty situations I can't bear to relive.

So it's safe to say I try to avoid drinking for the most part.

"My family and I just got back from Barcelona on Monday," Shelley randomly brought up, taking a small sip from her plastic cup. Never one for silence, the girl could talk your damn ear off, like Tommy.

"Oh really?" Cheyenne participated in the conversation. I just stood next to them, leaning on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room, pretending to be interested. At this point in the night, when I've been sober around people for too long, there's only one thing on my mind.

"Uh huh," Shelley nodded. "My aunt and uncle still live there, so we went to visit them."

"Was it fun?" I piped up, my eyes connecting with hers for a second before I focused on a certain group of guys across the room.

Shelley nodded again, her naturally highlighted ringlets bouncing with the movement of her head. "It was so much fun, you guys should totally go if you ever get the chance," she flashed her 100-watt smile that popped against her tanned skin.

I smiled too, but it didn't reach my eyes because I was multitasking by paying attention to two different conversations at once.

As Shelley went on talking to Cheyenne about foreign places, and my best friend listened because she thinks Shelley is pretty, I stared at the profile of Marcus Brewer. He and a couple of his friends were in a corner of the living room, talking to Tommy, Kurt and Jonah. And I could tell by the way that they were barely moving their mouths and not making much eye contact that Marcus was dealing to them.

Marcus Brewer, known pot-head around Tatum Hills, sells a lot of drugs. He's not great on paper, but he's extremely nice. Him and my group of friends get along because well, we smoke and he sells. That's about as simple as those kind of friendships get.

I watched intently as Marcus reached his enclosed palm out and grasped onto Tommy's, conducting a nonchalant handshake. Bingo. At that, Tommy sent me a single nod which I returned, so I straightened up and downed the rest of my lousy drink.

"I'll be back," I muttered, although Shelley didn't even notice. Cheyenne sent me a sly smirk because she knew exactly where I was headed off to. She doesn't partake in my "smoking shenanigans", as she likes to call them, but she'd never judge me for it.