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Mrs. Zoe’s class was always sporadic, though this lab took the cake. We were to meet by the beach at a fishing pier. There, we were to collect water in search of plankton, that we will later view under microscopes. It was a wonderful idea, something I was excited for, and one of the many perks of attending a university by the sea.
I’m currently a second year in the marine biology course, meaning that most of my time resides in school. Sadly, Mrs. Zoe’s plankton lab was at 9 in the morning, and a twenty-minute drive from my dorm. Though I, unlike many others, saw this as an opportunity.
It had started slowly in my late teens, something I could rarely do on account of getting caught by my family. But leaving home, having my own transportation, and my income has drastically changed my limitations.
Soon, I arrived at the pier an hour early, with our meet up spot being the main parking lot. Inside my bag contained a small, tin mint box. Emptied, of course, minus the dainty joint and lighter that it carried. I saw this hour as one of relaxation. Walk and smoke on the beach, get a coffee afterwards, meet up with the class, do the water collecting, then go get lunch. Honestly, the excitement I had for the day was building up, flipping in my stomach. If I didn’t have any homework, I would’ve gone thrifting afterwards. But I don’t pity my losses. I had too many joys in my life to care in such a pessimistic way.
One of those joys was Sasha Braus, a girl who lived in my dorm complex. We met when we were freshmen, though her major was wildlife biology. Still, we became fast friends. So much so, she was the sole reason I even acquired my friend, Mary Jane. I couldn’t entirely remember my last fall semester, but I do know it was her to blame. She's also guilty for the chocolate stain on the beige seat of my car. Though I do laugh when I reminisce about that now.
I realize that I’m looking at the stain, thinking about the fond memory. It sat on the left corner of the passenger seat, covering the top edge. She was trying to give me a bite of her bar while I was driving us to the movies, but it was too melted. Turns out, she had it in her bag during her soccer practice. But, again, I don't mind. Other than the fact that it looks like someone took a shit in my car.
My mind goes back to the beach, my arm reaching over the console to the passenger floor. I grab my bag, slipping it onto my shoulder. Already I begin to imagine my day, as well as the types of shells I would find. But before I could open my door, the sound of another car pulling in draws my attention. A grey prius pulls in, parking a few spots beside me. While I can’t see who the driver is, I already know who’s occupying the vehicle.
Armin Arlert.
A shorter, medium haired blond with skinny glasses and sci-fi stickers plastered on his computer. He was one of my classmates as well as close with Sasha’s friend group. Truth was that he did look and act captivating. It was his personality that completely left a distaste in my mouth, souring my insides.
It was the beginning of this semester, with most of our labs being to test our baseline knowledge. Mrs. Zoe partnered us for a rather easy pH lab; testing various antacids comparative to acids. The end result produced different colors through chemical reactions. Super simple, minus the fact that Arlert always felt the need to one up others.
Especially in intelligence and passive comments.
I noticed halfway through that my results weren’t the same as his. In fact, my antacid level seemed to have doubled, prompting my hypothesis to be incorrect. To me, this wasn’t a big deal, with the drops of acid needed being off by only a few. But to Armin, this seemed to be such news. So much so, that when Mrs. Zoe came around to inspect our work; he told her so.
Though, that’s not what bugged me. It was his face after she left, his glasses blurred by the sun peeking through the window. The smirk he wore was undeniably sly, as if he was pulling out a winning card during blackjack. Once Professor Zoe was out of ear shot, a condescending tone erupted from him.
“I'm sure if you didn’t smoke so much, you wouldn’t be struggling.”
The words strike me frozen, my head hastily turning as if venom was filling in my lips. I knew that Sasha and him were also friends, as well as the rest of the group. A scoff erupts from me. All I remember afterwards is leaving the class early. Not solely because of him, but because I didn’t want to wish to be around such annoyance. Okay, maybe it was due to him.
I snap back to where I sit, groaning audibly. Hopefully he doesn’t leave his car, yet I can’t help but wonder why he would show up so early. In a haste, I open my car door and exit before locking it. To the left of the lot was a small decline, with a few wooden stairs at the start. The rest led into a trail to the sea, with white grit kicking over the thin, overgrown grass. Sand picks up as I walk towards the entrance of the beach, immediately scoping out an appropriate spot.
Though I am soon interrupted by the sound of another car door shutting. Looking up, I notice Armin walking over, waving in a relaxed manner. I thought about ignoring him, pretending not to see him, but then he spoke.
“You’re here early.”
By the time I’m processing what he’s saying, he’s already in front of me. My eyes are now scanning his demeanor, disregarding his Dark Crystal t-shirt. Such a nerd. But what I couldn’t disregard was his shit eating grin that was back on his face. It was lopsided, with the left corner peeking more towards his cheek. To anyone else, it was innocent, with a cute dimple highlighted underneath his glasses. Yet to me, it was cunning and full of deceit. Rolling my eyes, I turn back towards the beach, continuing down the path as I finally speak.
“Yep. You are too.”
I’m looking around again, though I’m walking through the sand and down. Towards the left sat shelves of rocks, all creating perfect edges to sit. That’s where I made my way, before hearing the blond again.
“You’re early to walk?”
His voice holds skepticism, but I don’t look back to see his expression. Instead, I nod, hoping he’ll catch my hint. Obviously, he doesn’t, the sound of his shoes shuffling in the shore as he follows. For a moment, I think about lying, fearing that him knowing about my plans would affect how he views me. But then I snap out of it, finding it foolish that I even care about his opinion of me. If anything, my honesty might be the very thing that pushes him to leave me be. Especially since he reacted in such a way to my substance usage only a short while ago. So, I finally stopped, turning at an angle to view him.
“I’m just trying to smoke, and I don’t think you want my secondhand.”
I expect him to shake his head, sneer at what I say, or maybe say nothing at all and leave. To my surprise, he does neither of these options. I can see his eyebrows raise, as if I said something pleasing to his ears. Then he says something that questions whether I’m dreaming or not.
“I was too. Do you want to smoke mine with me?”
Did I hear him right? My jaw slightly opens in shock; a dumbfounded look plastered on my face. Quickly, I shake it off, scrambling to figure out what to reply with. I’m on the fence about saying no, but only because of my (now minor) dislike for him. But on the other hand, free bud from an attractive man? A smart man, no less. Though, my trust didn’t come easy.
“You smoke? Since when?”
Now he looks shocked, as if I was lacking a common fact. Immediately, he starts to back it up, explaining in a calm manner.
“I’m friends with Eren and Sasha. I smoke.” He pauses, his hand going into the front pocket of his blue jeans to then pull out a small plastic tube. I already know what it is and what it contains. Tilting it towards me, he gives it a little shake, causing a small thud of the joint on the plastic ends. “So yes or no? Class doesn’t start for a while.”
I don’t hesitate to answer or think too much about it, nervous that I may say no if I overthink. Nothing was at stake for me; it’s not like smoking was a deep dark secret of mine. So, I nod, pointing back towards the rocky ledge.
“Do you wanna smoke there?”
Before he answers, Armin is already walking over towards me, opening the package then revealing the joint. The smell was apparent the moment he popped open the plastic, the salt of the nearby water mixing with it. His free hand digs back into his opposite front pocket, pulling out a navy blue lighter.
“We can sit on the rocks.” His voice carries in the wind, but I’m close enough behind him to hear it clearly. Walking a few paces back, I soon find myself climbing then sitting on the rocky ledge, the blond not even a foot from me. The coolness of the stone radiated through my jeans, stinging my thighs. I could tell the same was affecting him, with his legs shifting underneath one another as he looked out into the teal seas. As I watch him, he brings the filter to his lips, then the lighter to the opposite end. A flicker, then a spark ignites in the air, engulfing the tip into a red divot. He inhales, his pale cheeks hollowing out as he takes a long drag. Soon, he pockets the lighter, still holding the hit within his lungs. After a moment, it seeps from his nostrils and fills the surrounding space. Sunlight peering over the water highlights his emission as it circles us, his delicate fingers handing me the drug. Before I take my own inhale, I speak again.
“Isn’t this a little hypocritical?” No malice lingers in my voice; a twinge of a tease laced with confusion as I question his previous behaviors. “I’m skeptical. You never smoked with me before.” I bring the joint to my own chapped lips, wrapping them around the budded end. Then I finally breathe in, sucking in the flavor. The taste was smooth, very similar to my own weed. Figures, he probably also buys from Sasha. Not that I’m complaining. As I’m puffing the smoke, I can hear Armin shift against the rocks before he speaks.
“I just don’t hang out with the group often because of school. But I never said that I didn’t smoke.” His hand is reaching back for the joint, my finger brushing with his as I trade it off. Again, his expression is one of confusion, lingering on why I’m even asking. “Why do you ask if this is hypocritical?”
His voice hums into the paper as he finally inhales again. It’s oddly soothing to me, how the tenderness of his tone contrasts with the harsh sound of the waves. (Hair colored) strips of my hair are carried by the wind, blowing into my scrunched face as I gaze on him. Does he just forget what he said to me months ago? Or does he not care? “You acted as if my smoking affected my lab. I figured you were too snobby to pick up the habit.”
As I’m turning back to the vastness of the sea, I hear the hiss of the joint stop, followed by a small cough. Poor thing must’ve thought I wouldn’t bring it up since he was being so polite. A few deep inhales seep from him and soon, I feel something pushing into my arm. Looking down, I see his fingers with the bud, urging me to take it. Which I don’t argue with, doing so to free him of the burden. Catching his breath, I notice his blue eyes are glossy and red. That’s when I have the epiphany; this isn’t a normal occurrence for him. Smoking, that is. But I don’t say anything as he fills the small silence. “I don’t do it often because of school. Unless I want to, like this morning.” Pausing, he watches as I now take another hit of our shared flower, his eyes relaxed under the frames as he addressed what I previously said. “I wasn’t trying to be rude; I was teasing you.”
Big pools of cerulean are examining me, tracing my movements. He sounds genuine, his words neatly picked and plastered to comfort my once sore wound. I’m still deciding on believing him or not as the smoke fills my lungs. Purposefully, I take an extra-long puff until my body is screaming for oxygen. The cloud exits my mouth, curling from my bottom lip. I still felt as if he sabotaged my antacids, but I left it be, finding the pleasure of his action too nice. “I didn’t mention anything about being rude. Just snobby. But I don’t mean that anymore.” My tone plays my words towards forgiveness, but I only say it because of how dorky he looks in the moment. Reddened eyes, capped lips, his cockeyed glasses. He’s leaning back now, with his palms flat on the stone and his grey converse kicked towards the beach. One of the first things I noticed about Armin was his love of graphic shirts, often sporting whatever band or show on it.
I only see that I’m looking square at his chest and hogging the weed when he clears his throat, his hand soon in front of my gaze. “Please don’t find me snobby, I promise I’m not. I guess sometimes I come off blunter than I mean.”
We trade off again, but I feel a deeper sense of relaxation this time. It's definitely affecting me now. Just as I’m about to talk, the small vibration of my alarm shakes from my jeans pocket. Pulling it out, I see the time; 8:45. Fifteen minutes until we were to meet the rest of our class. All while acting as if we didn’t reach cloud nine. Now I didn’t even want to go, but only a minor part of it was due to my high. The other part was sitting beside me, staring at my screen as well.
“We should start making our way.” His voice held disappointment while his hand carried the joint, with still a good piece left to go. A small hiss was heard when he pushed the blackened end into the stone, ashing just enough to get it to stop smoking. Then, he placed it back into its designated tube that sat in his pocket. It was clear the blond was leaving and I, unexpectedly, didn’t want that. How selfish would it be if I asked him to skip one of our biggest assignments to come hang out with me? Pretty selfish and against many man's morals. Something only a thoughtless and selfish individual would do. But I did it anyway.
“We could skip and get coffee. I know a good cafe we could walk to.” Quick witted, a smile is showcased on my face, loud and inviting. I know in my head that he’s better than this. That he’ll do his normal grimace while shaking his head, dismissing the entire plan while lecturing responsibility to me. Afterwards, I’ll feel stupid for even asking or offering. Like how he did so in class. His mouth starts to move, and I prepare myself for rejection.
“Yeah, let’s go before anyone sees us here.”