FAUX REAL

15

"Okay, you can open your eyes now." I tug on the long black t-shirt, hoping it'll stretch out further than mid-thigh, not because I think it's skimpy but because it's as cold as balls out here.

Jennie clears her throat, her eyes fluttering open as she slowly lowers the towel. "That was fast," she comments as I plop down on the ground and lean against the hard surface of the brick perimeter.

"I'm surprised you didn't peek," I muse, bringing my knees to my chest. I totally thought she was going to sneak a glance but her eyes were shut tighter than my grandma's pickle jars. Oh, pickles. I could go for a pickle. Or some pepperoni. Or cake. "I think I'm hungry."

"Well, I was raised to be gentle," she smirks, sitting down beside me, our shoulders almost touching, the heat from her body radiating onto mine. She passes me her flask. "Here, have some malted barley, that's all we have unless you want to go inside and grab some food."

"Nope!" I snatch the flask out of her hand. "We're already established that inside sucks, this will suffice." I twist open the lip and take a reluctant sip, the liquor jolting me awake, sending a shiver down my spine. "Oh God, it still tastes like acid." A second passes and warmth spreads through my body. "Oh, nevermind...it's actually kind of nice. It's like a blanket...made of booze."

"Christ," she chuckles, her eyes bright with amusement. "How high are you right now?"

My jaw drops. "What? I'm not high! Why would you say that? I feel fine. I feel better than fine actually, I feel great."

"Sorry to break it to you," she says. "But you're high, love."

"I am?" I hum, pulling the t-shirt over my knees as a gust of wind encircles us. "Are you sure? Maybe the cookies were defective. Maybe I'm just drunk?"

"Yes, I'm sure," she laughs. "You are stoned out of your mind."

"Shit, hey?" I muse, nodding my head, my mind a bit hazy, dull, but at the same time vivid and clear. "Huh, so this is weed...interesting. I thought it would be a little more intense."

"Were you expecting to have a sudden urge to commit mass murder or something?" she teases. "Jump out a window?"

"Ha ha." I roll my eyes and playfully shove her as a shiver seizes my body. "I don't know what I was expecting, not this though."

Her eyes narrow in on my bare arms. "You're cold," she observes. "You have goosebumps."

Shit, she's going to make us go inside. "No, I'm not," I peep. "That's just uh- my natural skin texture."

"Right," she sighs, shaking off her jacket and tossing it on my lap. "Here. Take it."

"Aren't you going to be cold then?" I ask quietly, stroking the leather fabric, a slight flutter in my chest. Does weed give you heart palpitations? Is that a side effect? I'll have to Google later.

"I was born for a Siberian climate, remember?" she says casually. "Put it on. If you get sick, surely you'll blame me for missing classes and that will be a major nuisance."

"Okay," I say quietly, slipping on her jacket. Mmm. It smells good. Like- I shake my head, turning to face her. Nope. Just a jacket. "So? Umm...how does it look?"

She nods, her tongue on the fringe of her lips. "Still better on me though," she whispers, flipping out the collar for me, her eyes studying me. "But you pull it off quite nicely."