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It was late October and the weather had been nice enough to go outside. Everything had kind of a film of water on it as Indiana autumns tended to be rainy.
“Rob, trust me, it’ll be fun!”
“Isn’t this shit illegal?” Robin asked, eyeing the bag Steve held.
“Yeah, but it’s fine. No one will find out, and also. It’s fun,” he answered laughing a little.
“I really thought you’d grown out if you self-destructive behavior,” Robin sighed, though they both knew she was really just teasing him.
They sat on Steve’s back porch as he rolled a joint, Robin watching him. She wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about the whole thing. A little exhilarated, scared about getting caught too. She’d never smoked or done drugs before, except for the time she broke her arm in middle school and they put her on opioids to combat the pain. Steve took a lighter out of his pocket and lit the end of the joint before taking a hit.
“Wow,” be breathed, smoke puffing out, before he coughed a little. “I haven’t smoked in a while.” Robin looked at him as if she was expecting something more. “I’m not high yet. Hate to break it to you but it takes a few hits before anything happens,” he said, although a stupid grin has already started making an appearance. He handed Robin the joint. “Just take one hit, Rob. If you really don’t like it, we’ll stop and order some wings or something.” Robin bit her lip and nodded, gently taking it from Steve. She put it to her lips, breathed in, and began coughing.
“Holy shit, Harrington,” she wheezed between coughs. “It tastes like a burnt hot dog.” Steve began cackling next to her. She got a brief head rush, but other than that felt no effects. Before Steve could intervene, she brought it back to her lips and took another hit, this time with less coughing. However, she scrunched up her face again at the taste of the smoke. She puffed out the smoke and laughed a little. "Dude, my body feels fuzzy," she whispered, staring into Steve's eyes. He laughed harder.
"Dear God, are you already baked? Jesus you're a lightweight," Steve sighed. He took the weed from her and took in a deep breath himself. Robin was right. It did have a reminiscent hot dog taste, and now that she brought it up he would never be able to forget it.
They both smoked a lot more than they should've, and at some point they had moved to the pool deck to lie down. Steve accidentally dropped the joint on his shirt and it began burning a hole into it. In a panic, Robin shoved him into the pool, along with the weed. Steve resurfaced and looked at Robin, who immediately burst out laughing.
"You caught on fire, dingus," she squeaked out through giggles.
"No, I did not! I could've handled it!" Steve whined trying to pull himself out of the pool. Robin continued to laugh at his sad attempts, and eventually Steve had begun laughing as well and gave up trying to get out of the pool. Robin then launched her body into the pool, almost landing on top of him. When she resurfaced they began laughing hysterically.
They later found themselves floating in the pool, facing the stars.
"It's kinda... cold," Robin said, voice barely above a whisper. Steve righted himself in the water and looked at Robin.
"Holy shit, your lips are blue!" He cackled. Robin stared at him for a brief moment before giggling herself.
"Can't we like, die from being too cold?" She asked. She felt relaxed, but something at the back of her mind nagged her. Steve changed the subject.
"Rob, Rob, look," he said, making a vague gesture towards the sky. "The moon is like. Really yellow-y." Robin followed his gaze, and it was. It was a full moon, or at least almost a full moon, and it did look very bright and yellow. It was probably the effects of the drug that made it feel that way, but it was pretty.
The high for smoking weed usually lasts between 1-4 hours, depending on tolerance and the amount of weed in your system. Surprisingly, Robin's high was the first to begin tapering. It was gentle at first. Colors became dimmer, she was able to start thinking more about her specific surroundings, and with that, came in mind, the pool. She'd felt the chill of the cool water mixed with the October air before, but now it was chilling. It made her teeth chatter more noticeably, and her limbs began to feel numb.
"Shit," she mumbled, looking over to Steve who was still riding his high. "Steve, I'm cold," she said, in a whisper-like voice. She was't totally sober yet. Steve laughed a little. "I wanna get out. My clothes are all... sticky..." she said giggling a little at the end. She swam towards the ladder to pull herself out, shivering harder at the cold breeze. She ran to the bin next to the porch and took a towel, grabbing one for Steve as well. "Steve," she whined, dragging out his name. "Get out, let's go inside." Steve hummed in response. "Steve please. It's too cold. We're gonna get sick," she huffed.
"That's just a wives' tale," he finally answered with words, even if it was just to point out an inaccuracy.
"No, I mean like hypothermia, dingus," she said, her voice still having a whiny, dazed quality, but gaining more authoritative and controlled as her body shook the drug from its system. Steve looked at her, at her pleading eyes, and sighed.
"Okay, fine," he said swimming towards the ladder to get out. "Holy fuck, you were right it's cold!" Steve shrieked, allowing Robin to pull the towel around his shoulders. "C'mon, inside," he huffed, speed-walking to the back door, Robin close behind. They walked inside, both of them still a little too doped up to notice all the water they'd tracked inside. "Robin. Do you want a Hot Pocket?" Steve asked, whipping his head around to face her, flinging droplets of water everywhere.
"I want all of the Hot Pockets..." she said, sounding confused.
"We gotta share though," Steve said, putting a hand on his hip. Robin nodded in agreement, and they headed to the kitchen on a mission.