chapter four
Aston
I’m still reeling over the furious look on Knox’s face on Monday when he realized he had to sit next to me. I don’t care for the guy, and I’m not pleased about the fact that I have to sit next to him, but his anger makes it almost worth it.
We’ve had this long-standing grudge for years, over something obtuse. Frankly, I’m over it. He wants to hate me with every fiber of his being, then he can do that. I’m going to enjoy fucking with him every single chance I get, though.
It’s Wednesday morning, which means it’s our second sociology class. Walking in with about five minutes to spare, I see he’s already here. Wow, so he can be early. I’m almost impressed.
“Finny!” I throw my hands in the air, with an obnoxious grin splitting my face.
“JT,” he groans, and I have no fucking clue what that could possibly stand for. “Thought I fucking told you to stop calling me that?”
“Now, where’s the fun in that?”
“Fuck off,” is all he says back.
Fuck, it’s fun messing with him.
Just then, the professor walks in. “Good morning, class, so happy to see everyone is on time today,” she says, pointing a bored look in Knox’s direction.
A handful of collective “good mornings” and “hellos” circulate around the room, while she finishes unpacking her briefcase.
“First thing’s first. If you took the time to read the syllabus, you know that we are starting our first research project. This is a group project focusing on the sociology of mass media and social media. You and your partner will be picking any form of mass media—this could be a specific news outlet, or a form of social media, such as Facebook or Instagram—and you will research how it affects members of society, and which groups of society are affected greater than others.
“It’s important to remember and understand that these group projects are worth fifty percent of your grade, so please take them seriously, set aside proper time, do solid research, and work closely with your partner. This project will be due in two weeks, and it will require a lot of research, so plan your time accordingly outside of the classroom.”
Sweet baby Jesus, this is going to suck.
I can feel the fury radiating off him like smoke. Feigning an unbothered, cocky smirk, I turn to my left and stare at his side profile before he gives me the most malevolent glare I think I have ever seen.
“So,” I drawl, with the smirk still plastered on my face. “Your place or mine, Finny?”
“Fuck off,” he growls.
“Listen, you aren’t my favorite person either and there is a lot more I’d prefer to use my free time for than doing this with you, but this is a large part of our grade and I’m not failing because you can’t figure out how to be mature. So, again… your place or mine?”
Steam is practically pouring from his ears. “Fuck you, JT. Yours, I guess.”
“What’s with JT? You do know those aren’t even my initials, right?”
Flashing me the most annoyingly devious grin, he responds, “Wouldn’t you like to know, JT.”
“No, actually, I wouldn’t. Be at my dorm by seven tonight.”
******
In Washington state, you have to be at least twenty-one to buy weed from the dispensaries, which is pretty annoying, since I’m only nineteen. Luckily, this dude I know, Travis, has a roommate, Derek, who is twenty-one, so he goes there once every couple of weeks for himself, and for Travis and me, too.
This is where I’m at right now, Travis’s house. He lives about ten minutes from campus and it’s only about six o’clock, so I have some time before the douchebag is supposed to be at my place.
“Aye, Derek texted that he’s on his way back. Should be here any minute.”
“Alright, cool,” I say while running my hands through my short blond hair. “You getting into anything this weekend?”
“You know, I’m not totally sure yet. What about you?”
“My friend Cash is in a frat, and he said they’re having a big kegger on Saturday, so I may hit that up. You should come, bro.”
“Bet. I’ll see if I can swing it.”
The front door opens and in walks Derek, with a shit-eating grin on his face. “What’s up, guys?”
“Hey, hey, thank you again for getting my shit for me. Appreciate it, man.”
He hands me a brown paper bag. “Of course, Aston. Anytime.”
“Sorry to dip right away. I’m meeting a classmate at my dorm to work on a project.” Making my way to the front door, I turn and look at Travis. “Let me know about Saturday, though. Hope to see you there. You should come too, D.”
“For sure, see ya.”
Heading in the direction of the dorms, I take one of the joints out of its packaging—blueberry flavored—and light up. I don’t normally smoke out in the open like this, but I’m running low on time and it’s dark as hell out here, so no one will probably even see. Plus, it’s Washington; nobody cares about a little weed.
The walk doesn’t take me long, and I only allow myself to smoke about a third of it. I don’t need to be completely stoned while working on this project with Knox. That would be a disaster—a hilarious one, but a disaster, nonetheless.
Walking down the hall, I see Knox waiting outside my door. He’s dressed head to toe in black—beanie, Vans sweatshirt, ripped skinny jeans, and Converse shoes. His signature “fuck the world” expression comfortably on his face, and it only sours further when he sees me walking up.
What the fuck is he doing here so early? We still have like a half hour.
“What’s up, Finny? So excited to see me, you couldn’t wait any longer?” I chuckle as I unlock the door to my room.
“Fuck off, dude. I forgot my phone at home when I left earlier and didn’t know exactly what time it was.”
Turning around, I give him my most pretty boy grin. “Mhm, sure.”
“Can we get this over with already?” He sounds like it physically pains him to be in my vicinity.
“Relax, Knoxy boy, I promise I won’t bite… Unless you ask me to.” I make a show of chomping my teeth, laughing.
“Are you fucking high?”
“I mean, maybe a little,” I drawl. “I kind of have to be to put up with your ass.”
“Because I’m so terrible,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes at me.
“Uh… Yeah. You kind of are.”
“Whatever. Let’s fucking get started.”
Once I’ve put my bag of weed away in my dresser, I pull up another chair at my desk and plop down in front of my laptop, indicating for him to take the seat next to me. He does, begrudgingly, and when he sits down, I get a whiff of him. As much as I hate to admit it, he smells really fucking good. Whatever soap he uses is working for him.
“Have you thought about what form of media you want to use?” I ask while my laptop is waking up.
“I didn’t know you smoked weed,” he comments, out of freaking nowhere.
“Uhh.” I shoot him a confused look. “There is probably a lot about me you don’t know. You know, since you don’t like me?”
“We hang out with the same people. I figured that’s something I would have known by now.”
“Well, guess not. Back to the project… which media source?”
“Where do you get it from? I know you aren’t twenty-one yet.”
For fuck’s sake. What is his problem and why is he fixated on this? It’s not even a big deal.
“My buddy’s roommate gets it for me. What is with all the questions?”
“I’m just curious. It’s hard for me to get because I don’t really have anyone I trust to get it for me.”
“That sucks, man,” I sigh, still not sure why we’re talking about this. “Can we get back to our work now?”
“Let’s do Instagram for the project,” he finally says, answering my question.
“Okay, why that?”
“Because it’s widely used around the world, and for a multitude of other reasons. It would be the perfect source for this type of assignment.”
“Sweet. That works for me.”
“So, do you want to smoke maybe?”
Turning to face him, with my eyes bugging out of my head, I have to fight the urge to laugh in his face, because what? Since when does he want to do anything with me?
“Uh, what?”
He rolls his eyes once again, like I’m inconveniencing him. “You heard me, JT. I’m not repeating myself.”
“Right now? You want to smoke right now?”
He has the audacity to look bored by my question. “Yeah. It’s not a big deal. Either you do or you don’t.”
“Um, okay? We can’t do it in the dorms, though.”
“Okay, then where?”
“I usually go to the baseball fields. It’s empty this time of year.”
“’Kay. Let’s go.”
What in the world is going on here?
Grabbing one of the unopened joints, I get my shoes and coat on, shoving it into my pocket, and we leave. I can’t remember a single time since that party in high school when we’ve done anything together, other than bicker.
The walk goes by quickly, and as I figured, the field is empty. I lead him up to the bleachers, so we have somewhere to sit, before unwrapping the joint and lighting up.
Strawberry, yum.
Taking a couple of hits, I pass it to him. I watch him inhale deeply before blowing the smoke out, then repeat the process. We do the puff-puff-pass a few times in complete silence before he finally says anything.
“This doesn’t mean we’re friends,” he scoffs, bringing the halfway gone joint to his lips and taking a hit.
This elicits a laugh to bubble past my lips. “Okay, man.”
“I’m serious. I still don’t like you.”
Cocking my head to the side, I can’t help but smile and ask, “Why’s that, anyway?”
“Are you serious, bro?”
“Yeah, bro,” I reply mockingly. “It can’t honestly be because of that time years ago.”
“Why can’t it be?”
“Because that’s ludicrous. It was one time, for like thirty seconds. So what? It was, like, three or four years ago? Get over it. You sound like such a bigot.”
“Well, I’m not fucking gay, and you basically attacked me.”
“I was rollin’, bro. So were you. It’s not a big deal,” I spit out, taking another deep inhale of the smoke. “Plus, if I remember correctly, you definitely kissed me back. I’m honored that I left such a memorable impression on you that you still think about it years later, though.”
Passing him the nearly finished joint, he takes it, glowering at me. “I don’t fucking think about it.”
“Obviously, you do.”
“Fuck you.”
“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Finny,” I say with a wink, and his nostrils flare in response.
God, he’s fun to fuck with.
Taking the joint from his fingers while he gawks at me, I take one last hit before putting it out.
“Let’s go, Knoxy boy. It’s cold. I want to get back to my room.”
Heading in the direction of the dorms, I don’t check to see if he’s following me, but I know he is. Before we get to the building, I turn on my heel to face him. “I’m kind of tired.” And, I want this weird evening to be over already. “Text me some ideas you have for the project, and I’ll do the same. We can meet up another day soon, okay?”
Knox studies me for a moment before eventually agreeing. “Yeah, okay.”
“Alright, night, bro.”
As he’s walking away, he turns back to me quickly. “Wait, I don’t have your number.”
“Here, give me your number, and I’ll text you,” I mumble, walking back toward him.
Entering his number into my phone, he gives me my phone back, and I shoot him a text so he has mine too.
“Night, Finny. See you later.” I throw up a peace sign and walk away, not bothering to wait for his response.
This was a weird fucking night.