Page 42 of Forbidden Romeo
“Harshing your buzz?” Duncan repeated, a slight hint of disdain in his voice. “Do you hear yourselves?”
I put my hands up in surrender. “I didn’t say it, don’t blame me.”
“Coach was asking about you,” Duncan said, dropping his duffel bag on the floor near the front door.
“Really?” I snorted. “Funny since he’s the one who benched me.”
“He benched you because you haven’t been to fucking practice, Holden.”
“Whatever,” I grunted. “We both know that even without practice, I’m better than two thirds of the team.”
“You’re not going to be a part of the team if you keep this shit up,” Duncan muttered.
“Ross is right,” I said. “You’re sounding more and more like my dad.”
“Maybe this is one time your dad would be right.”
“Fuck you.”
Duncan's lips disappeared into a thin white line. With a sigh, he padded across the living room toward his bedroom. “I’m going to shower.”
Ross lifted his middle finger high into the air while bringing the joint to his lips with his free hand.
With a reckless shrug, I reached out and took the joint from his outstretched hand. Why not? The air was thick with a pungent, acrid smoke that made me feel like I was floating on a cloud. The strong scent of marijuana lingered in my nose, making it hard to focus on anything else. But I didn't care; in this moment, nothing else mattered except the feeling of pure bliss and freedom that washed over me with each drag.
A sudden smack jolted my shoulder and I awoke, disoriented. Blinking against the harsh light, I saw that another two hours had passed and my phone was ringing insistently. The sound pierced through the peaceful silence and dragged me back into reality. My body felt heavy and sluggish as I fumbled for my phone, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep, pot, and beer.
As I lifted my heavy eyelids, I saw the harsh blue light of my phone screen in front of me. My eyes were red and blurry, still struggling to focus after being immersed in a cloud of smoke. I lifted my phone to my ear and answered it. “Hello?” My mouth was dry and sticky, like I had been chewing on cotton balls in my sleep.
“Holden!”
“Katherine?” I asked, my voice was so raw and scratchy from the smoke and I could barely swallow, let alone speak.
“I did it!” she squealed. The sound of her voice pierced through the air like a needle, high-pitched and shrill. My head throbbed in response, my hangover amplified by the combination of alcohol and pot. In that moment, I regretted every sip and puff from the night before. The sharpness of her voice was like a warning sign, a reminder to avoid mixing substances in the future. But for now, I couldn't escape the pounding headache and queasy stomach brought on by my poor choices.
“You did what?”
“I called Mr. James and he set up an audition for me in New York!”
“Katherine, that’s fucking incredible. Congratulations!”
“He said that he can cover the airfare and hotel room for me!”
I sat straight up, ignoring the grating slam of blood rushing in my head. “He… he’s paying for your travel?”
“Yeah, I thought it was strange too, but he said it’s common when there’s a new talent that can’t afford the trip.”
Warning bells rang off in my head, but I wasn’t sure how reliable my judgment was at the moment between the beer and pot. Instead, I rubbed my fingers into my eye sockets. “My dad has a townhouse in New York… what if I come visit with you while you’re there? We can make a fun birthday trip out of it for you.”
“You’d do that?” she asked, her voice softening, sounding touched.
“When are you going to learn… for you? I’d do just about anything.”
CHAPTER 18
Honey brown eyes stare up at me in awe over a heaping mound of chocolate ice cream. “You’re the girl from the other night,” Jamie says to me before looking to his mother for confirmation.
Smiling warmly at her son, Megan ruffles his hair. “That’s right, Sprout.”