𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮 | 𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙢𝙖

CHAPTER 7

SONG FOR THE CHAPTER: Just What I am- Kid Cudi.

EMMA CHAMBERLAIN

Sneaking my dads last bottle of tequila into my room usually never went smoothly; he'd find out, lose his mind on me, and the bottle would soon be shattered into pieces.

But tonight, I don't have to worry about that. The only thing I have to worry about is watching Ethan stumble around the hotel room drunk off his ass.

He started opening up to me very quickly when he was only a few shots in, I could tell he wasn't a big drinker.

He told me about his dad's very recent passing, and setting fire to their own house— with his dad still inside.

Sure, it definitely wasn't a normal funeral— but it seemed like something Ethan would do.

I've grown to learn his persona very quickly; he was a lot like me. We both could care less what anyone thought of us, we both only showed care to people when the feeling was mutual.

If anyone stood in the way of something we wanted; we dropped them.

And though we are still somewhat strangers, I feel like I've known him my whole life. Maybe it's just the alcohol talking, but I haven't felt this much happiness in so long.

"You ever smoked before?" he suddenly asks from the corner of the room, hanging onto the bottle of tequila like his life depended on it.

"What? Like weed?"

"Yes, like weed," he laughs coming over and sitting on the corner of the bed. Though we asked for a room for two, we were given a room with one bed.

"A couple of times, I don't think I actually even got high."

"Seriously? You had to be inhaling wrong then," he moves from his position— stumbling over towards his duffel bag, "I got a bowl, wanna let me teach you the right way?"

I stare at him questionably, "Ethan, we're in a hotel room; people are gonna smell it."

"Well, there's a window right there and it's 2 A.M., everyone is sleeping most likely," he picks up a small bag of weed and the bowl from his bag, "anyone that isn't sleeping is probably doing the same thing we're doing."

I hesitate, but then remind myself; why the hell not?

I move off from the bed, "you got a lighter?"

He smirks at me, moving his hand into his pocket and pulling out a lighter, "of course."

I sit on the small bench directly in front of the window, watching him open it, "it's fucking hot in this room," he mutters as he takes a seat next to me.

"Take your shirt off then."

He draws his eyes back to me, letting a smirk rest back on his face again, "damn, em, you get straight to it huh?"

I laugh trying to play it off like I didn't want to see Ethan not wearing a shirt, "you've got a long sleeve shirt on, of course it's hot; don't flatter yourself too much, Dolan."

"Whatever," he chuckles as he starts packing the bowl with weed, "alright so you're gonna want to inhale this like your sipping a drink from a straw."

I take the bowl from his hands as he hands it over to me, "I'll light it for you; once the smoke is in your mouth, just take a deep breathe."

I bring the bowl up to my mouth, waiting for him to light it. He lifts the lighter onto the freshly piled weed, igniting the fire.

I do as he says, sucking in like a straw; letting the smoke into my mouth and taking a deep breath, letting it fill my lungs.

I exhale the smoke, him watching as I do so, "perfect, that's perfect," he says excitedly, letting a smile rise on his lips.

That damn smile.

I laugh, "alright let me hit again."

And he does, I hit it three more times before I feel my head get all hazy and my body feels like jelly; as if I were standing on clouds.

"Now that I've gotten you high, I have the perfect music for the feeling."

"How did you know I was already high?" I ask, chuckling to myself. This stuff really does give you the giggles.

"Because your eyes are more bloodshot, and you're also smiling like crazy."

I start laughing again, at absolutely nothing. I can't control it but I don't mind the feeling. In fact, I feel incredible.

He takes his phone from his bag, walking over and plugging it into the stereo. Music soon fills the room, not too loud— but enough to where it instantly relaxes my body even more.

"This," he pauses, pointing over to the stereo, "is Kid Cudi."

He plops down next to me, filling the bowl back up with the green substance. I don't reply to his comment from before, I take in the sound of the song.

"What song is this?"

"Just what I am, personally one of my favorites," he tells me before he lights the bowl, inhaling so smoothly.

I feel a heat rise to my stomach watching him inhale it, he's so captivating. He exhales the smoke, leaving my mouth agape; it's as if I'm in a trance.

I didn't let my eyes leave from him, even when his eyes met mine. He doesn't do anything but let his head fall to the ground, chuckling lowly.

"Take a picture it'll last longer."

"Yeah well, I don't want a picture when what I want is right in front of me."

He draws his attention back onto me, "you're playing a dangerous game, Em," he whispers lowly.

His eyes fill with a darkness— not a scary darkness, almost like a lustful darkness.

I grow confident, rising from my seat and moving closer to him before taking the bowl from his hand— setting it beside him.

"That's a game I'm willing to play, Dolan."

His mouth falls slightly agape, being taken aback by my sudden confidence. His hands move up to my waist, moving me in between his legs.

"I'm considering you're advice from earlier."

"What advice?" I question.

"I should take off my shirt, and you should too."

And suddenly, I'm thanking the creepy hotel perv for giving us the room with one bed.

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