Flock

“Repeats,” I parrot, sipping my iced tea.

He eyes me warily. “Shit, bad choice of words. Look,” he moves to sit and draws up his knees, his toned forearms resting on them. “No, you aren’t the first or second girl I’ve taken there.”

Suspicions confirmed, I try to hide my disappointment. “Thanks for the truth. I guess that day was special to me, that’s all.”

He chucks my chin. “Then let it be. You think I was thinking about the last girl I was with when I had you underneath me? Fuck no. And I like that you’re jealous.”

“Eww,” I prop up to my elbows and drop my head back dramatically. “I guess sometimes I make it obvious you’re dating a teenager.”

“Jealousy isn’t limited or nullified by age, babe. And you’ve been hurt. You’ve told me you have from the start. You’re being cautious. You don’t want to be fucked over again. Nothing wrong with that. I get it. And I’m not mad you asked about it.”

“Do you get mad?”

“Yes,” he says softly, so softly, it’s scary, “and it’s not something you want to see.”

“Oooooh,” I turn on my stomach, kicking my feet into motion behind me. “Do tell. Were you an angry child?”

“No, I was more like ‘Tarzan with Chimpanzee rip your arm off if you fuck with me’ tendencies.”

I laugh. “I believe it.”

“I did get into a lot of fights.”

“Why?”

“Because I was a little asshole.”

“So, what’s changed?”

“Cute. I was going to share my banana pudding, but…”

“Hey, I’m sorry. You haven’t given me many reasons not to trust you.”

He frowns. “Cecelia—”

I reach over and run my hand down his jaw. “I hate that I asked. But it’s been bothering me.”

“Next time ask so you aren’t wasting your time.”

“I did, but we were fighting, remember?”

“My bad, but I mean it, don’t let shit eat at you. Ask.”

“I will.”

“Good, now eat.”

And we do. After, we lay back looking up at the stars as his Zippo closes and an unmistakable smell invades my nose.

I grin over at Sean just as he passes the joint to me. I take a deep inhale and release it, already laughing from the act alone.

“You’re such a lightweight,” he chuckles.

“And proud of it. Why do you smoke?”

“It’s as relaxing as a few beers to me. And if you relax, and don’t think about anything or anyone but where you are and who you’re with, you can control the high and it won’t control you.”

“Okay, dude,” I say as I inhale in my best stoner impression. He grins and takes it back, and I turn and lay back on the blanket, gazing up at the night sky.

He grabs the hand resting on my stomach and brings it to his mouth to kiss the back of it. His eyes close and my chest buzzes from the intimate act.

“I thought I would hate it here,” I admit.

“Glad you don’t.”

“You’re the main reason I don’t. You know, I have to leave next year. I’m only here until next summer.”

He pauses his kiss on the pad of my finger. “We’ll make it count.”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“Nothing’s certain.”

“Oh, Lord, not this again.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Always so damned cryptic with me. I’m not an idiot, Sean, you’ve been trying to indirectly tell me something since we met. What the hell is the big secret?”

He leans in, his grin dazzling in the dim light. “You’re the secret.”

“Oh, am I?” I reach for the joint. “Give me that, God, I’m going to need it if I’m going to listen to your madness.”

“You love it.”

“The devastating truth and life philosophy according to Alfred Sean Roberts.” I take a small hit and pass it back to him.

“Knowledge is power, baby. Strongest weapon out there.” He takes a hit. “You know why they outlawed weed?”

“Not a clue.”

He props on his side, the cherry glowing brightly as he takes another pull. “Because the powers that be at the time couldn’t figure out how to regulate who grew it and tax it. So they created all this propaganda about how lethal it is. Look up Reefer Madness on YouTube when you get a chance, and you’ll see just how far they went. And people believed it because they were told to believe it.”

He leans down and spreads my lips with the swipe of his tongue so I open for him. He exhales a plume of smoke into my mouth, forcefully puffing out my cheeks. Laughing, we break apart as I sputter and cough swatting his chest.

“Reefer Madness?”

“And I quote,” he widens his eyes. “‘Marijuana, the burning weed with its roots in hell!’” I giggle as he leans in and slowly starts to unbutton my shirt, “Smoking the soul-destroying reefer,” he drawls, pushing away the fabric to reveal my flesh before ru

Under his spell, I tangle my fingers in his hair just as he inches his fingers along my sides. “But at a terrible price!” The boom of his voice has me jumping before his fingers dig into me and I laugh hysterically, swatting him away as he shouts in his best preacher man imitation. “‘Debauchery! Violence! Murder! Suicide!’”

His fingers continue to tickle me as I twist to free myself. “Stop, Sean, I’m going to pee my pants.”

He stops and leans in close, his eyes tick-tocking back and forth erratically. “And the ultimate end of the marijuana addict…” he holds up a finger in a ‘wait for it’ gesture, “hopeless insanity.”

“You’re kidding, right? Violence, Murder, Suicide?”

“Don’t forget debauchery. And no, I’m not kidding, look it up,” he runs his fingers through my hair. “Nineteen thirty-eight. Complete and utter bullshit and the masses bought into it. All because the greedy fuckers couldn’t figure out how to tax it and control the distribution, they outlawed it. Now all these years later, they’re using it to relieve people of pain, stop seizures, to help treat incurable disorders with just the plant itself without the THC. And the mental effects for some can be just as healing as popping a more harmful pill. Can you imagine where we would be or how far we would have come since nineteen fucking thirty-eight if those assholes hadn’t ganged up on a plant? Instead, they taught us it was wrong, because some people decided it was and told us it was, and the law-abiding folk went along with it and preached to others it was wrong. And here we are after decades of it being outlawed and it’s suddenly safe for medical and medicinal purposes?” He shakes his head in disgust. “Did you ever hear that story about that guy who got stoned before he went and committed mass murder?”

“No.”

“Yeah, me neither. And I doubt anyone else has either because the odds are not fucking likely. We have to be careful about who we listen to.”

“You’re a one-man revolution. Is there anything about this country you do like?”

“The scenery,” he exhales, lifting my bra and ru

I get lost in the workings of his hands and frown when he pauses.

“I mean, the idea of America is great, the execution not so much. But we’re still a young country. There’s still hope for us.”

“I like the way you quack,” I say honestly. And I do. I love that he challenges me, makes me think.

“I like your quack too, baby,” he dips and kisses me soundly.

“You know,” I take the joint. “You would make an amazing politician. Too bad you’re addicted to the burning weed with the roots in hell.”