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There was a strong stink that filled the air. It only started after the loud scrape of the lighter.
It was a motion she knew all too well.
Her father taught her the sound, and when she was 12, she managed to sneak the lighter away from him and used it herself. She would recount the motions her father took to light his cigars and copied it. Again and again, even skipping classes to copy that same motion.
And God, nicotine was so overrated.
Marijuana, cannabis, Mary Jane, the “Ganja” (Lila always said that one with a bit of pizzaz and hand movements. She giggled.) - whatever she wanted to call it that day. It was in her hand. It was lit. And it STUNK.
The familiar smoke entered her nose and in quick succession, she raised the joint to her lips and pulled. She held it in and it burned. Oh well.
Breathe out. She told herself. And she did.
She wasn’t addicted to weed. That’s what she told herself. People who are addicted to weed stink of it and aren’t functioning, right? Nah. Lila knew she was functioning and she knew she didn’t smell like it. She was fine. Skipping class to smoke was just because she couldn’t smoke at home…
Inhale. Exhale.
Squeal, stop. The noise of the restroom door’s grinding hinges had Lila freeze in place for a moment before promptly smashing her joint against the wall to put it out. Fuck. Now was not the time but she was partly to blame. Smoking in the school restroom, not even an alley or something? Come on, Lila!
“Lila? Are you in here?” The familiar pitched voice of Marinette sounded.
Are you fucking kidding me!? “First period marked you present… But you’re not in class.”
She stayed silent in hopes the girl would just leave. The anxiety started to kick in. She must have smelled it by now. No. Maybe the ventilation would have helped her.
Marinette’s flats sounded against the tile floor. She walked closer. Closer.
And as it was too late to do anything, Lila noticed that in her most-definitely addicted rush to get high, she had forgotten one crucial detail. The stall door was unlocked.
It was pushed open now. Marinette was quick to notice what was in Lila’s hand. Face to face, neither of them spoke, only staring into each other’s eyes.
Perhaps a minute passed before Marinette moved from her spot. She put her hand out and looked at Lila expectantly.
I’m sorry? Lila thought. What the hell am I even supposed to do in this situation?
She handed the barely smoked joint to Marinette, who held it between her index and thumb.
“A light, Lila.” Marinette broke their shared silence. “Oh. Um.” Lila fumbled to start a light for Marinette, though the action was something she was so used to doing for herself.
Smoke once again filled the air as Lila watched Marinette take a drag and blow out a thick cloud. She followed her body movements. The blue of her irises slowly tucking away as her eyelids lowered. Before she knew it, Marinette was handing the joint back.
Lila accepted with a curt nod. This might be the most awkward interaction we’ve ever had… even more than the time I pinned her against the wall in here. Is this restroom a pattern?
Fifteen minutes, maybe, was the time it took for the two girls to smoke the joint down to the tip. They stayed in silence for most of it, only exchanging looks that were bare of any previous malice they may have had towards each other.
Walking out of the restroom, Marinette shot a lopsided grin to Lila which was reciprocated with a giggle.
They walked back to class, where both their classmates and teacher quickly noticed the scent of marijuana tracing behind them.