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“God, my back hurts,” Shorter said, stretching his arms high up in the air as he headed out onto the creaky old porch. “Tiny ass truck. I was all scrunched up for hours.”
“We weren’t even on the road for that long. Imagine what it will be like when we drive to L.A.,” Ash said, flipping on the porch light. As he watched, a moth became entranced by the bulb, battering itself against the glass case surrounding it.
“Don’t remind me.”
The rustling of heavy fabric drew Ash’s attention away from the moth. He watched Shorter’s back muscles flex as he rummaged through an old, ratty duffel bag just inside the truck’s heavy canvas flap. When Shorter turned a moment later, it was with a grin on his face and a joint in his hand.
“Look what I brought,” he said, his voice every bit as smarmy as his smile.
Ash rolled his eyes. “I don’t want your goddamn dirt weed.”
“It’s not dirt weed! No stems, no seeds. I checked!”
Ash gave him an incredulous look.
“It’s not!” Shorter scoffed. “Whatever, dude. More for me.”
Shorter tied the canvas flaps closed and perched on the back bumper, fishing a hot pink lighter from his pocket. The light from the flame bathed his face in a flickering orange glow as he lit up the joint stuck between his lips. He took a long drag, then opened his mouth and let the smoke curl out between his lips slowly. The light of the round full moon above them illuminated each tendril as they twisted and dissipated into nothingness.
“Give it here,” Ash said, stalking over to the truck and sitting on the bumper beside Shorter.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
Shorter passed him the joint. Ash took it gingerly, sticking the filter between his lips and taking a long pull. It had been a while since he’d smoked, and his lungs fluttered against the invasion, desperate to eject it. Ash’s nostrils flared as he tried his damndest to hold it in.
“Oh, buddy, you’re fucked,” Shorter said, taking back the joint just before Ash doubled over with a raucous wave of coughs.
“Fuck off,” Ash croaked, his shoulders shaking with the effort to get control of himself. “Water?”
“Left it inside,” Shorter said.
“Bastard,” Ash muttered, blinking back the tears in his eyes.
As the burning in his lungs subsided, Ash felt a slow tingle edge into his senses, first creeping along his toes and his fingertips, wrapping around his joints, curling up his spine, and finally settling heavy on his brain like a purring cat, fluffy and overwarm. He wondered, vaguely, if he could still shoot like this. He was willing to bet that he could.
Bang, he mouthed, holding his fingers up in a gun shape and pretending to shoot out the porch light.
“Huh?” Shorter said.
Ash frowned. He hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud.
“Nothing.” Despite himself, he giggled. “‘S’not bad.”
“Told you,” Shorter said. It was clearly meant to be a retort, but his high had buffed away its edges.
They passed the joint back and forth in silence. Shorter always got quiet when he smoked. Not when he was in public—with the guys, he would have been cracking jokes and dishing out noogies by now. But with Ash, he became quiet and contemplative, considering the moon with a solemn brow.
“You good?” Ash said, handing him the joint.
Shorter was quiet for a moment. The sound of chirping crickets filled in the space where his words ought to be. Above them, the limbs of tall, sparse trees swayed in silhouette, carving lightning-like shadows into the moon.
“Out here, big city problems seem so small, you know?” Shorter murmured.
Ash grunted. Small town problems were just different. In the city, he could disappear from it all, at least momentarily, blending into the blur of light and noise. Out in the country, there was nowhere to hide.
Shorter cleared his throat, as if suddenly aware of himself. “Hey, watch this.”
He opened his mouth. Nothing happened for a moment. Then, rounding his lips, he let out a carefully controlled puff of smoke. It spun out of his mouth, small at first, then gradually grew into an impressive smoke ring, haloing the moon in white.
“You’ve been practicing,” Ash said.
“Uh-huh,” Shorter said, puffing out another. Just as he let out a third, the front door creaked open.
“Oh shit.” Shorter coughed clumsily and tried to conceal the joint, but it was too late. They were caught.
Ash squinted. There, silhouetted in the yellow porch light, stood a short, stocky silhouette he knew well. It was Eiji. He sported a rumpled tank top and the same pair of jeans he’d worn on the ride over, unbuttoned presumably for comfort. He yawned and slipped on a pair of ratty old flip flops by the door before heading toward them.
“Hey,” Shorter said, trying to sound nonchalant. Ash let out a giggle. Under different circumstances he might have felt a certain way about Eiji finding them like this, but right now, his head was buzzing too much to care.
Eiji stopped in front of them and wrinkled his nose. “Stinky.”
“Eau de ganj, my friend,” Shorter said, showing Eiji the half-smoked joint pinched between his callused fingertips.
“It’s weed,” Ash said in answer to Eiji’s puzzled look. He plucked the joint from Shorter’s outstretched hand and took a light drag as if to illustrate his point, blowing the smoke out one side of his mouth to avoid getting it in Eiji’s face. If Eiji had an opinion on that, he didn’t show it.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Shorter asked, muttering “thanks” as Ash passed the joint back to him.
Eiji tilted his head. “Mm… every time I closed my eyes, I felt I was still in the truck. Bump, bump, bump. Same rhythm.”
“Like you just got off a boat,” Shorter said.
“Yes, exactly like that.”
“You want some?” Shorter held the joint out to him. “Shit’ll put you right to sleep.”
“Shorter…” Ash said, a warning note creeping into his voice. In the short time they’d known each other, Eiji had been shot at, tied up, and nearly killed. He’d even stolen a car, if only briefly. Ash was loath to add doing drugs to that list.
“What? He’s a big boy. He can decide for himself.”
Eiji hesitated. “I have never smoked before.”
“Ah, a first timer,” Shorter said. “Have no fear. I’ve dealt with your kind before. C’mere. You can shotgun it from me.”
“Shotgun…?” Eiji said, taking a cautious step forward.
“Mouth to mouth,” Ash said. “Like a kiss.”
“Oh.” Ash couldn’t see Eiji’s face clearly in the low light, but he was pretty sure he was blushing.
Shorter shrugged. He wasn’t denying it.
“Does everyone do it like that?” Eiji said incredulously.
“All the time,” Shorter said. “It’s no big deal.”
“How come Ash does not smoke that way?”
“‘Cause if I tried to tell Ash how to smoke, he’d kick my fucking ass.”
Ash chuckled. Shorter was damn right about that.
Eiji seemed to be waging a silent war within himself, one foot forward, the other back, torn between paths. Finally, he sighed. “Okay. I will try.”
“Alright. Get real close. I’m gonna smoke it first, then pass the smoke to you.”
“Okay,” Eiji said, a nervous waver creeping into his voice. Ash didn’t think Shorter noticed it.
Shorter took a deep drag, then beckoned Eiji forward. Eiji leaned in uncertainly, steadying himself with a hand on the bumper between them. Impatient, Shorter deftly trapped Eiji’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and guided their mouths together.
Ash tried not to stare. He really did. Yet somehow, he couldn’t seem to look away. Maybe it was the pot, but every detail of the exchange seemed magnified. First, Eiji’s eyes screwed shut, then widened as Shorter began to blow the smoke into his lungs. Shorter’s grip on him tightened slightly, forming a little dimple on his cheek. Eiji’s Adam's apple bobbed as he tried not to cough, his hand on the bumper balling into a fist.
After what seemed like an eternity, they finally broke apart. Eiji immediately clapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from gasping for breath.
“That’s it. Try to keep it in for a bit,” Shorter said. “The THC needs time to get into your bloodstream.”
“What are you, a fuckin’ scientist?” Ash muttered, snatching the joint and taking a drag.
“What? He deserves to know how it works!”
As Ash watched, Eiji’s face slowly turned redder and redder. Clearly he was taking Shorter’s advice seriously. Finally, his lips burst open, and he attempted to breathe out normally, but he choked hard instead. He planted his hands on his knees and doubled over, coughing out what remained of the smoke.
“Nice job, bud,” Shorter said, thumping him heartily on the back. “Happens to everyone their first time.”
Shorter took a drag and let it out, watching the smoke curl up toward the moon. Eiji watched it, too, with unusual intensity, his mouth slightly open, his eyes wide with wonder.
“How are you feeling?” Ash asked.
Eiji looked at him with warm, half-lidded eyes and a hazy smile. He was feeling it, alright. He glanced at Shorter shyly. “Can I have another one?”
Shorter laughed. “One more, alright? Joint’s almost done, anyway.”
This time, Eiji put his hands on the bumper on either side of Shorter’s hips. He seemed more confident already, leaning in close even before Shorter had taken a hit.
“Calm down. You’ll get your turn,” Shorter teased.
As soon as Shorter’s lips were free of the joint, Eiji eagerly replaced it with his own. Shorter made a little surprised sound, then wrapped his hand around the back of Eiji’s neck to steady him.
Ash grit his teeth. Did they really have to take so long? He knew Shorter was feeding Eiji the smoke slowly so he wouldn’t choke, but he was pretty sure Shorter was dragging it out for his own enjoyment. Hell, maybe Eiji was, too.
He finally managed to tear his eyes away, but it did nothing to stop the deluge of thoughts that followed. He wondered, unbidden, if Eiji’s lips were as soft as they looked. Despite having kissed Eiji before, all his memories of that moment were about passing along his message. Now, he sorely wished his brain had paid more attention to the finer details of the experience.
When they parted at last, Eiji managed to let out the smoke with a little more grace this time. He giggled, which caused Shorter to giggle, which caused Eiji to giggle more, which caused Shorter to burst out laughing. They collapsed into one another, holding each other up as their shoulders shook with laughter.
Ash scowled. Why should Shorter and Eiji get to have all the fun? He could shotgun too, dammit!
“Hey Eiji,” he snapped, snatching the stub of the joint. He attempted to take a drag, but thick, acrid smoke from the burning paper filter stopped him short.
“Huh?” Eiji said, wobbling to his feet as Ash exhaled the foul smoke with a cough.
“Fuck. Nevermind,” Ash said, flicking the joint into the gravel below and crushing it beneath his heel.
“‘Kay.” Eiji tried to turn around to look at the moon again, but he lost his balance halfway, nearly falling in Shorter’s lap.
“Oops. Sorry,” he said, and there was that goddamn giggle again.
“Sit here,” Shorter said, scooting over to make room for Eiji. Ash’s heart jumped as Eiji squeezed into the small space between them, their thighs touching from knee to hip. Ash wanted simultaneously to pull away and press in closer, so close that even the thick cottony high couldn’t obscure the press of their bodies from one another.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Why was he being so fucking weird tonight? Maybe it wasn’t dirt weed after all—maybe it was laced with something. That had to be it.
Ash was pulled from his thoughts by the warm, solid weight of Eiji’s head lolling onto his shoulder. His breath hitched in his throat. Did Eiji mean to do that? Should he say something?
“You sleepy, bud? Time for bed?” Shorter said, gently shaking Eiji’s shoulder.
“Mmm… m’hungry,” Eiji mumbled.
“Damn, me too.” Shorter sprung up. “Watch out. I think I have some chips in my bag somewhere…”
Ash threw an arm around Eiji’s shoulder to keep him from falling as Shorter parted the canvas flaps and rooted around in his duffel bag.
“Aha! Found ‘em!” Shorter said triumphantly, pulling out a bag of corn chips. “Might be a little crushed, but they’ll do the job.” He tried to hand them to Eiji, but Eiji didn’t stir from Ash’s shoulder. “Eiji?”
Ash looked down. Eiji’s eyes were closed, his long, dark lashes just brushing against his cheeks. His cheek was smushed against Ash’s shoulder, pressing his lips into a rosebud shape. As Ash watched, he made a little contented sound, snuggling in closer.
“He’s asleep,” Ash whispered, and try as he might, he couldn’t keep a stupid smile off his face.
“Well, shit.” Shorter shook Eiji’s shoulder. “Bud. Hey, buddy.”
“Mm?” Eiji said, starting awake.
“C’mon. Let’s get you to bed.”
“Take these with you,” Ash said, holding out the chips. “He might wake up with the munchies.”
“Wise man,” Shorter said, grabbing them as he guided Eiji to a stand. Eiji tried to stumble after Shorter toward the house, but he was simply too tired. Shorter laughed and scooped him up, carrying him princess style into the house. As Shorter nudged the door open with his hip, he turned and gave Ash a wink.
Ash’s whole face heated up. He swallowed hard. Something about that look made him want to scream and cry and shout and throw up all at once. Abruptly, he sprung up, but instead of heading into the house, he walked a slow lap around it to burn off some energy and quell the racing thump of his rabbit heart. As he waded through the tall grass, he prayed that no snakes would take an interest in his ankles.
When he finally made his way back around to the front, Shorter was there on the stoop, looking up at the moon.
“Hey,” Shorter said when he approached.
“Hey,” Ash breathed. “He asleep?”
“Yeah. Conked out as soon as his head hit the pillow.” Shorter mumbled something under his breath. Ash couldn’t quite tell what, but he thought he could make out the word cute in there somewhere.
“Don’t mess with him, okay?” Ash blurted.
Shorter arched a brow. “What do you mean?”
“‘It’s no big deal’?” Ash said. “You and I both know a ton of guys at home who would think that what you did tonight was a big deal.”
“Wow. Jealous, much?”
“I’m not—I’m not jealous!” Ash sputtered, red-faced.
“Sure you’re not. I get a little close to Eiji, and suddenly here you are, hurling accusations—”
“I’m not accusing you of anything! I’m just saying—”
“I know what you’re saying, dude, and I’m not gonna lie, I kind of resent it,” Shorter said. “I think I deserve a little more credit than that, and Eiji does, too. He knew what he was doing. He’s an adult. Hell, he’s older than you. So would you give it a rest?”
Ash’s mouth trembled open. His cheeks burned furiously, chastised, as he pictured Eiji’s face that night in his mind’s eye. How Eiji had seemed so bashful, yet excited as he leaned in for the kiss. How he had been so giddy, so touchy. Shorter was right. Eiji knew exactly what he was doing. Ash found, suddenly, that he had nothing to say.
“Whatever,” he said at last, too proud to say sorry. Apologizing would mean admitting he was jealous, which he definitely wasn’t.
“It’s okay,” Shorter said. He knew Ash too well by now to miss his true meaning. “I get it. There’s shit in this world you wanna protect him from. But you can’t protect him from, like, being alive, you know?”
Ash chewed on his bottom lip. “I guess.”
“Lighten up, bro.” Shorter threw an arm around his shoulder. “Soon, this will just be a fun little memory for him to look back on.”
Ash had seen the look in Eiji’s eyes that night. He wasn’t so sure Eiji would treat it as casually as Shorter was expecting. Even so, he stayed quiet, unwilling to make a fool of himself for a second time.
“I had fun tonight,” Shorter said, squeezing his shoulder. “I’m glad I got to share my dirt weed with you.”
Ash’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “Me too.”
“That’s the part where you’re supposed to say it wasn’t dirt weed.”
Ash said nothing. He just kept smiling.
“Man, forget you!” Shorter sucked his teeth and pushed him away. “I’m going to bed. You coming?”
“I’m gonna sleep in the truck,” Ash said.
“You sure? It’s gonna get cold.” He shivered. “Hell, it’s already cold.”
“I’m sure,” Ash said. Memories haunted the corners of that house like cobwebs, and he’d sooner freeze than wander like a ghost among them.
Shorter shrugged. “If you get cold, you know where to find me.” He gave Ash one last look, then disappeared inside.
Alone once more, Ash sighed. He leaned just inside the door and switched off the porch light. The moth, free at last from its spell, fluttered off toward the moon in a flash of silver and white.
Ash crawled through the canvas into the truck, unrolled his sleeping bag, and tried to get comfortable. Shorter was right, though: it was cold. Before too long, his teeth were chattering. Sitting up with a frustrated grunt, he felt around in the dark for something else to cover himself with. His fingers brushed across a familiar patch of fabric. It was Shorter’s jacket.
Desperate and miserable and with no one around to see him, Ash pulled it on. The jacket smelled of musk and old sweat and the terrible cheap aftershave Shorter wore when he wanted to impress someone. Even so, Ash felt immediately comforted by its familiarity. He lay down and burrowed under his blanket, clutching the jacket around himself, and slowly, his shivering ceased.
As Shorter’s scent enveloped him, his image came to mind. In Ash’s sleep-addled state, he wondered what it would be like to shotgun smoke from Shorter. Would his lips be soft? His breath warm? What expression would he wear as Ash pulled away?
Ash thought that, just maybe, he might like to find out.