Page 80 of Their Wicked Ways
“My mouth tastes funny.” Jett made smacking noises like a cow chewing cud.
“Drink some water,” I suggested. “Weed gives me dry mouth too.”
He unscrewed the top of his bottle and put it to his lips.
I looked away as he drank, not trusting myself to not stare at his throat in my slightly altered state.
I had a decent tolerance, and sharing a joint between three people wasn’t enough to get me high, but I was feeling it by the slight tingle in my limbs and the way my thoughts kept wandering.
Jett capped his bottle and started giggling again. “I don’t know what’s funny,” he said, shooting Wes a bewildered look, even as he kept laughing.
“Just lean into it.” Wes emphasized his point by leaning back against the couch. “Nothing matters right now except existing.”
“Has Quinn ever told you about that theory that says we’re all part of a simulation and nothing is real?” Jett asked, settling back against the chair, his entire body relaxing. “Makes you wonder if we exist at all.”
“A few times.” I smirked. “But Jesse is worse.”
“Quinn’s stepbrother?” Jett asked.
I nodded. “He’s been going on about that shit for years. Simulation theory, the Fermi paradox. Stuff like the Great Filter and the Dark Forest theory. Those are his Roman Empires.”
Jett started giggling. “That was a lot of words, and I have no idea what any of them mean.”
“I’ve been listening to him talk about that stuff for years, and I’m right there with you.” Wes elbowed me in the side. “This one is the philosopher between us. He gets all that existential shit.”
Jett looked at me with big, wide eyes. “I’m not surprised.”
“You’re not?” I smiled as the tingles in my limbs intensified. It was hitting, but I was still in control of myself.
“Nope. It’s always the brooding ones who have the deepest thoughts. And you brood like the broodiest brooder who ever brooded.”
“Say that three times fast,” Wes said with a snicker.
“Brood like the broodiest brooder who ever brooded. Brood like the boobiest boober...” Jett dissolved into giggles. “Boobiest boober.”
“Sounds like a straight dude trying to write romance.” Wes let out a bark of laughter. “Oh my god, do you remember that line Quinn showed us in that book he read?” he asked, slapping my thigh lightly.
“You mean the bouncing boobifully one?”
“Bouncing boobifully?” Jett cackled. “What the hell?”
“I still think it was a typo because I refuse to believe that anyone would write that in a book,” I said.
“Write what?” Jett asked. “I need more than just boobiful bouncing boobies.”
Wes laughed so hard he snorted, which set Jett off even more.
“The line was ‘and she descended the stairs, her breasts bouncing boobifully,’” I said, keeping my voice as solemn and serious as possible.
“Oh my fucking god.” Jett held his stomach. “I’m dead,” he wheezed.
“This one,” Wes slapped my thigh again. “Thinks they meant to write beautifully, but I want to live in the world where boobifully was a deliberate choice.”
“I’m gonna use that at some point. Maybe the next time Chanel asks me how she looks.” Jett’s smile was wide and a bit goofy. “I’ll tell her her shirt makes her look boobiful.”
“Please do that and tell me what she says. Pretty please with a cherry on top.” Wes made begging hands at him.
“Cherry.” Jett snickered, his eyes glassy. The weed was kicking in for real now. “Why do they call someone’s virginity a cherry? Like, they could have called it anything, but they went with cherry. So weird.”