The Fence || h. s.

7 || Cheri

She smirks, grabbing both of my hands and dragging me to an even more secluded area where we both promptly sit down on the sidewalk, adjusting our short dresses as we do so. It takes her a moment to rifle through her purse, but she eventually pulls out a perfectly rolled joint, placing it in between her lips. Tapping me on my thigh, she gestures to the lighter in her hand. 

"Wouldn't have pegged you girls for weed lovers," I light up her joint, watching as her pretty pink lips pucker up, sucking it in and inhaling deeply. 

"Are you kidding me? With all the stress this fucking industry puts me under, I need something to unwind, at least a little," she says on an exhale.

"Tell me about it," I mutter in response. 

She nods sympathetically. "You've been MIA for quite some time though." 

"Kinda trying to figure out some stuff at the moment," I say as she hands me the spliff, and I silently gauge her reaction. Over the years, I've come to realize that there are two types of people: those who are looking for an interesting bit of information they could share with their friends later, and those who actually care what I have to say. It's hard to tell which category she falls under just yet.

"Understandable," she muses, "It must be hard living with that kind of baggage… All the expectations." 

"Mhm," I hum, bringing the joint to my lips again. In complete silence, we pass it back and forth for some time. Usually, whenever I smoked, it began to hit me sometime around the third hit. This time was no different, and I was beginning to feel a little floaty, all my muscles pleasantly relaxed. 

"Uhm, so, it may sound weird but…" Heather—if I remember her name correctly—lets out a small, nervous giggle. "When you introduced yourself tonight, Kenny and the girls, well, they didn't get who you are… At least not right away." 

"It's fine, I'm used to it," I tell her, actually preferring it when people don't recognize me at all. Sadly, that doesn't happen often. 

"But I did… I knew it as soon as I saw you, before you even opened your mouth," the way she's rushing the words out tells me she's beginning to get high as well. "Actually, I've been kinda following you, as in, I was interested in what you're up to and what-not. Not that there's been much lately, since you're basically off social media and… Gosh, I am sounding a bit stalkerish right now, am I not?" The question comes out as a bit of a whine. 

"Again, it's fine," I tell her honestly, having experienced all sorts of reactions in the past. "I gather you're a fan then?" 

"Oh more than that," she sends me a dimpled smile, which I reciprocate with my own, small one. "Like a super fan." 

"I'm very flattered," I use my rehearsed, but nonetheless polite response. "Thank you so much." 

"Thing is…" she looks down, a noticeable tint of red on her cheeks. "You, well… You kinda were my first crush?" she stammers, this time making me raise my eyebrows in surprise. This I did not expect. "Back when I was like fifteen, and still trying to figure it out whether I like boys or girls." 

"Oh wow," I breathe out, my surprised expression quickly transforming into a cheeky lopsided smile. How interesting. "Well sister, I'm glad to have contributed to your road to self-discovery." 

I surprise her by grabbing her hand with the joint in it, and bringing it up to my lips, breathing in deeply while keeping my eyes trained on her mouth. Her face reddens even more if possible, and it might be the combination of the weed and the alcohol coursing through my system, but I'm finding the sight quite alluring. 

"Am I living up to your expectations?" I ask coyly, vaguely aware that my words could easily be misread as flirtatious. Although, maybe that wouldn't be a wrong interpretation.