Smirt

“I found her! There’s no need for you to call the SWAT team, Chris,” Carter exclaimed with a laugh, returning to the group with Dahlia, who was biting her lip and shooting glares at Gavin. I called her name, patting the blanket which I was sitting on. Somebody had started a bonfire and brought the ingredients needed for s’mores, as well as the prerequisite booze and weed, and blankets for everyone to sit on.

“I am going to kill Gavin,” Dahlia said under her breath, sitting next to me, phone in hand. “Do you know if he was texting his fuck buddy on my phone?”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t think he was.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Can I have a cig? I smoked the last one in the pack during the car ride.”

“Sure. You owe me a new pack though,” I said with a grin, giving her one and watching her light it, a content smile gracing her lips after a few minutes.

“Oh god, I love this song so fucking much.” My gaze strayed to a girl with a pixie cut, strumming a guitar to a legend; Bob Dylan. It’s a shame that I didn’t remember her name. She seemed like a pretty chill person.

“You don’t look like the type to listen to him.” Dahlia’s lips formed an “o” shape as she began to blow smoke at my face, one eyebrow arched questionably. I grabbed the cigarette from her and did the same.

She buried her face in her hands. “That’s not funny, Chris!”

“Not to you, darlin’. Hm. I know how you can make it up to me.” I finished the cigarette and tossed it over my shoulder.

“What do you have in mind?” she whispered curiously as the s’mores were passed around the bonfire. Before Dahlia could give me one, I turned to the girl with the guitar.

“’Scuse me, but did you use organic marshmallows for mine? I’m vegan.”

The girl nodded quickly. “Yeah, somebody told me you were. Don’t worry, it’s all organic. I’m vegan too.”

“Sweet.” I snatched the s’mores from Dahlia and took a bite, the chocolate smearing on the corners of my mouth. She ate hers too and laid her head on my leg, looking at the fire, and occasionally, me. She closed her eyes and started adjusting the bracelets on my arm, her touch sending shivers down my spine.

“So, how can I make it up to you?” Dahlia asked, sounding impatient. Her eyes opened. “Tell me what it is now. Oh, and I’m sorry for offending you. I have a feeling that Bob Dylan is one of your favourites.”

“He is,” I replied, brushing away a stray hair in front of her eyes, “and you don’t have to do it.”

Our eyes immediately focused on what was being passed around the bonfire, which wasn’t a surprise to me. That’s how these types of gatherings would go; we’d break away from the partygoers and do our own thing. We would do anything that seemed fun at that moment. Regardless of whether or not it was fun, I still found myself in this group of misfits. Carter, Nick, Taylor, and the other guys would hang around the group sometimes, actually. But they weren’t into it. They didn’t fit in with this crowd, which didn’t bother me at all. I guess you could say I had two groups I belonged to.

“Have you ever tried it before?”

Her body language spoke for itself, answering my question before she could respond. Dahlia sat up, hands clasped in her lap, alert and a little excited. “No, I haven’t. Just cigarettes and alcohol.”

“Are you sure you want to?”

My fingers grasped my sweet salvation, the key to happiness, and I waited a while longer, much to the dismay of the guy beside Dahlia.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“You’ll love it, I promise.”

“I trust you, Christofer,” Dahlia said quietly, “I don’t know why, but I do.”

There was no turning back now.

I was in too deep.