“Return to what?”
“My feet.”
“Hang in there, okay?”
“I love your hands on my face.”
“Listen to me, Houseman. We ate too much. We are Snoop Dogg at the Chronic Olympics high. We have an Uber coming in five minutes. I need you to find your feet.”
“I dunno that’s plauisbble.”
“Dave in the white Taurus, do you believe in Doritos?” Laney asks from beside me in the back seat as I study the lines dancing on my jeans.
“I believe in Doritos,” I tell her.
She grabs my hand. “I know you believe. I want to know if Dave believes.”
“Why? He’s not your boyfriend.”
“He’s a person.”
“He looks like Carrot Top without hair.”
“That’s not nice, Houseman. Dave, I think we should stop for tacos.”
“We do not need tacos. I need feet.”
“Jesus, are you two drunk? It’s 10:30 a.m.”
“We’re doing weed,” Laney snorts softly before her lips quiver. “Forgive us.”
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Dave smiles at her in the rearview, and I want to tell him not to smile at her like that, but my tongue is swelling. “Imma need that apic pen.”
“You don’t need it. I promise.”
“I’m thinking you two don’t do much weed.”
“First timers!” Laney proclaims. “Does this window go down?”
“Sure,” Dave says. “Do you mind changing your destination for tacos?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “No tacos. Everyone knows what’s happening to us.”
“What’s happening to us?” Laney asks, pushing the button over and over. I stop her hand before I run my fingers through her hair.
She moans. “That feels so good.”
“Thank you. I want to do it sometimes a lot.”
“You can do it all the time,” Laney says, leaning down to put her head in my lap.
“You’re going to make me cry,” I rub my chest.
She puts a hand on my face from below, looking up at me with earnest eyes. “Don’t cry, Theo.”
“I hate to break this up, you two, but we’re still here.”