Lana isn’t as lucky.
Despite eating half a sandwich at Josiah’s, I’m still starving. I avoid making eye contact with anyone as we beeline to the food table. Grabbing a paper plate, I dish up, piling on one of almost everything while Lana stands beside me, clearly not planning to fix herself a plate.
“You’re not gonna eat?” I ask her over my shoulder.
“Not hungry,” is all she gives me.
Okay, then.
Once I finish loading up my plate, we take a seat, and I dig in. Like there’s some magnetic force between us, my eyes land on Josiah’s. He’s standing around talking to Chevy, one of the town’s doctors and someone Josiah seems pretty close with. His lips tilt into a smirk when he spots me, and I look away before my cheeks have a chance to flame under his gaze.
This is screwed up on so many levels. First, up until a few weeks ago, I thought for certain I was only into girls. Lana is the only person I’ve ever done anything with, so I just kind of assumed. I’ve never looked at a guy that way… until Josiah. And secondly—and arguably the most fucked-up part that I can’t let myself forget—he is my girlfriend’s uncle.
My. Girlfriend’s. Uncle.
What type of backwoods cheesy porn shit is that?
“Are you almost done?”
Glancing over to my right, I find a very annoyed looking Lana. “Why?”
She blows out an exasperated sigh. “Can we go for a walk? Please.”
“Uh… I guess.”
We end up walking the trails behind the church, smoking the weed I scored from a guy in our class. She confesses to me how trapped she feels, and how scared she is that she’s going to end up just like her mom. We lie in the grass after the sun goes down, staring up at the stars while we fantasize once again about what it would be like to leave—how we plan to as soon as we turn eighteen. It’s a vision we’ve painted for ourselves dozens of times, and I wish it felt more in reach.
I’m one hundred percent serious about wanting to get the fuck out of here, and I think she is too. My mind unwillingly flits to Josiah at the thought, and I remember how he admitted to me earlier that he wants to leave this town too. I wonder if he’d come with us.
How fucking dumb, though. Why would he want to skip town with his niece and her boyfriend?
But fuck, the idea of leaving him behind twists my stomach something fierce.
Lana and I end up going back to her house late, when we know her parents are asleep. Once upstairs, she passes out immediately.
I’m not so lucky.
As quietly as I can manage, I slip back downstairs and out the back door, grabbing the cigarette out of my pocket that I stole from some lady’s purse earlier today. It’s a Newport—not exactly my preferred brand, but it’ll do. I can’t wait until I’m eighteen and can buy this shit myself.
My mind’s all over the place, so I probably won’t get to sleep any time soon. It’s been like that more often lately; nights where I spend more time lying awake than I do sleeping.
Someone steps up beside me, and for a moment, I think it’s Lana, but then I catch that distinct motor oil and leather scent that tells me all I need to know.
“Couldn’t sleep?” I ask quietly before taking another drag. I secretly love that more of my day has been spent near him than away from him.
“Nope,” Josiah murmurs. “And I saw you standing out here, so I figured I’d come over.”
He lives across the alleyway. His front porch looks over Lana’s backyard. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a pack of smokes, taking one out and placing it between his lips. Bringing his lighter to the end of it, the flame glows amidst the dark night.
It isn’t until he takes a drag and blows it out that I realize it isn’t a cigarette. It’s a joint. I didn’t know Josiah smoked weed.
After a few puffs, he hands it over to me, shocking me more than when he gave me the flask last time. I don’t know why. Liquor is considerably worse than weed, in my opinion.
So, we pass it back and forth in mostly silence, our fingers brushing every so often. It shoots a bolt of electricity through me every time.
“You wearing peppermint ChapStick?” Josiah asks out of nowhere.
“Uh… yeah, actually, I am. Why?”
