The Last Time We Met - #Completed

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

When the service ended, Kingsley and I lingered around the church and sat in his car, watching people exit the two sets of large double-doors.  I felt bummed out, but surprisingly, I didn’t feel as bad as before. I didn’t feel like my world was ending and I could breathe properly again.  I don’t know if any of it has anything to do with the fact the Kingsley has been by my side the entire time, but I don’t think I could have done any of this without him.

Right when I was about to tell Kingsley that I’m done with this place and ready to leave, I felt something small and weightless slip into my hand.

“What the—” I begin to say, but stop when I look down into my palm. A smile breaks out and Kingsley lets loose a slow, soft chuckle.

“Really?” I asked dubiously with a raised brow even though I was just about in the same boat he was in, but though I wanted to and although it would probably lighted the mood a little bit, I tossed the neatly rolled joint back at him and it landed in his lap, almost falling on the floor.

He looked at me like I was crazy and even told me he thought I was.

“Well, of course I want to,” I say honestly. I mean, come on, it is me. And what else do I have to do in my life at this moment? I think I’m pretty much free. “But we’re right across the street from the church. Not to mention we’re parked in an elementary school’s parking lot. You could get fined big time for that little joint.”

“Come on, Jesse, live a little,” he tells me, giving me the you’re-a-pussy look now.

“Don’t look at me like I’m a pussy,” I say, “because I’m not.”

“I didn’t look at you in any way,” he argued.

“Yes you did,” I say back. Why is he so frustrating? “And you are freakin’ nuts, Kingsley!”

I turned, my head, refusing to talk or look at him anymore. “Just drive me home,” I demanded and crossed my arms.

“Sure,” he says right after I heard a distinct clicking noise and received a whiff of a particularly strong pine smell. When I turned my head around to look at him my eyes wentf wide as frying pans. I was freaking out, on the verge of shitting a brick.

“Whatthefuckareyoudoing!” I whisper-yelled at him while I looked behind, to the front and to the sides of me for people, or even worse, the police. “KINGSLEY PUT THAT SHIT DOWN NOW!”

When he continued to puff freely, thick white smoke filling the car and floating out of the windows, I realized that he wasn’t going to put it out.

“You’re such an asshole,” I say to him, and grab it when he passes it my way again. “When you get a ticket and possibly taken to—”

“What are you doing?” I hear from someone to the right of me. When the smoke clears out of my face and I’m able to catch sight of who is outside of the passenger window my jaw drops.

It’s just a little girl, I think, but she made me nervous. What if she tells someone or calls the police? What if the person she tells calls the police? Oh shit.

As I took in the features of the little girl I got the feeling that I’ve seen her before. Silver-blonde hair and dark green eyes—not any features I recognized in particular, but....maybe she’s one of my cousin’s kids or something and was at the funeral. Or maybe I should not have taken that joint from Kingsley.

“What are you doing?” the girl repeats, even more curious as the lit joint burns a hole in my pants, making jump up suddenly and bang my head on the roof of the car. The joint must have fallen out of my mouth when it opened like a gaping idiot.