Falling for You

They tried to get the dosage right for years but never could find the right combination. My brother, Bret, offered Landon his first joint in the seventh grade and he’s smoked twice a day since. Landon says it helps to slow the world around him, but keeps him present. When he’s high, he can enjoy life.

Sam, on the other

hand, won’t touch a drug with a ten foot pole. His half-sister overdosed on heroin two years ago and it shook him. They weren’t close, not like me and Bret growing up, but considering Sam was unwillingly shoved into his dad’s life a few years back, those two had the best relationship in that house.

Sam takes the edge off with a pack of smokes and enough liquor to drown Aquaman. Before he turned twenty-one, his drinking was manageable. A few beers after work. A bottle of something on the weekend. Everyone knew his ID was fake, but they sold him the alcohol anyway, rarely telling him no.

Maybe it was the fear of getting caught, but Sam never pushed his luck. He bought what we needed to have a good time and that’s it. Now… now I wish he’d go back to that.

And then there’s me. The weekend drinker, occasional smoker, beyond tired motherfucker. I thought last year was rough, when I was a part-time day worker for my paw. I had no idea what I was in for. This summer has knocked me on my ass and then kicked me back six feet.

Landon takes a hit from his joint then passes it to me. I place the paper between my lips and inhale, ready for the smoke to push this week's stress away. I’ve waited all night for it to work it’s magic, but it seems like my stress has its claws so deep into my soul that weed can’t even help. Figures.

I exhale and pass the blunt to Hattie, not that she needs anything else tonight. She’s already giggling like a damn schoolgirl. I force a smile as she looks over at me. Whatever she’s said has everyone laughing, so I laugh too. My friends are great, but they have no idea what I’m going through and they don’t need to know, because, as much as they’d try, they can’t help.

Hattie reaches for my hand. I glance at Landon before letting her take it. Hattie and I are cool, despite how much I didn’t want her around when they first started dating. We’ve hit that point in our friendship where we hug every now and then and I can pick on her without hurting her feelings, but this is new. Landon is either oblivious to Hattie’s hand in mine or simply doesn’t care.

She pulls me through the back door into their tiny one-bedroom cottage. There are just as many people inside as there were out. The living room/dining room combo is packed. It’s like this every weekend. Landon loves having people around. He could care less if they talk to him, he just loves people.

Sam backhands me across the chest and I drag my gaze over to him, the blunt’s magic finally taking hold. The weight of this week still holds me down, but I don’t care as much, and that’s all I ask for. That and to pass the fuck out later.

Sam lazily lifts his lips into a grin. “Dibs.”

I follow his gaze across the room to a girl trying and failing to hide her face behind her beer. I suck in a breath, feeling the air reach the back of my lungs for the first time all summer.

The room spins as if I was drunk, but I haven’t had a drop of alcohol yet. Layla did this to me the last time she was here, shook my world up without reason, and I only knew her for a day. I don’t believe in love at first sight, movies make that shit up, but I can say I’ve never wanted someone as much as I wanted Layla.

Still want Layla.

Too bad she’s made it clear she doesn’t want me. I shake my head and shove Sam playfully. “The only way you’d nail a girl like her is in your dreams.”

“We’ll see.” He smirks.

Shit.

Sam strides across the room, stopping to grab two beers from a cooler by the television. My heart is in my throat. I can’t let Layla hook up with him because I don’t share girls. Sam and Landon may not have a problem with it, but I know where those dicks have been, specifically Sam’s, and I wouldn't go near some of the girls he’s hooked up with with a ten foot pole.

“Hey, cutie,” Sam drawls, his signature panty-dropping smirk in play.

Layla looks up from her feet and lifts her lips into a shy smile. “Hi.” Her voice while quiet is full, like Jennifer Lawrence: deep but not manly. She takes a sip from her can, finding liquid courage, then stands a little straighter. “Cutie? Is that your thing, giving people pet names?”

“Only when they’re as pretty as you are.”

Fire bubbles in my veins, feeding a monster that wants to shove Sam away from Layla, but I contain the beast. I will do everything in my power to keep them from hooking up tonight, but if he is what she wants, then so be it.

“Don’t let him fool you.” I clap my hand on Sam’s shoulder and force a smile of my own.“He calls everyone ‘cutie.’”

“Way to make a girl feel special.” Layla twists and tosses her beer onto the overflowing trash pile. Sam holds an extra can out, that came from I-don’t-know-where. Layla hesitates for a fraction of a second then takes it with a, “Thanks.”

I run a hand through my hair and exhale through my nose. There’s a war raging inside me: jealousy, anger, and nervousness are all fighting a losing battle. If you would have asked me ten minutes ago about this war, I would have said I didn’t have it in me to fight, and was too tired to care.

Ask me now, I’ll fight until every last mother fucker is in the dirt. Too bad I'm at war with myself. I shouldn’t care what Layla does or who she does it with. I don’t know her. I don’t like her. And yet I might murder Sam if he leaves with her. “I never said you weren't special.”

Layla’s cheeks flush and for the first time tonight, my smile isn’t forced. She pops the tab on her beer then takes a sip. Her brows pull together with her first swallow. I don’t think she likes the taste, but she keeps that to herself.

“So, cutie,” Sam mumbles, taking a step closer until he’s less than three inches away. Layla looks up to meet his gaze. He smiles down at her and twists a lock of hair around his finger. “Can you tell me why I’ve done nothing but dream about you? I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in weeks.”

I shake my head and steal Sam’s beer from his hand. He doesn’t notice, much less care. I bring the metal rim to my lips and close my eyes as I chug what’s left. I can’t watch what happens next. If his line worked, he’ll dip his head and steal those lips.