Absolute Smokeshow

I Call Shotgun!

Considering how your evening had started, things were looking up; you'd gone into the night an anxious mess and despite all odds, now there was a beautiful woman on your couch. Rhea sipped at the cup of water you'd brought her, looking around at your apartment as you brought out the bong, most of a bowl packed and ready. You sat down next to Rhea and pointed the mouthpiece in her direction, "Want to start us off?"

Her eyes widened and she seemed uncharacteristically hesitant, "I'm not used to- I've never..."
"Used a bong?" you pull the piece back onto your lap, "No worries! I can shotgun a hit for you?"
Rhea nods, relaxing visibly as you light the bowl. The piece filled with smoke as you took a deep inhale, looking closely and stopping when you could no longer see your thumb on the other side of the neck. Pulling out the bowl, you expertly take in the entire contents of the bong in one uninterrupted breath.

Turning to face Rhea, you almost forget what you're doing. This is the first time you've really looked each other in the eyes in decent lighting and she was closer than you expected her to be. She arched a dark eyebrow at you, lips parted, waiting for you to keep going. Hoping the warmth in your face isn't showing, you lean forward, stopping an inch in front of Rhea's mouth before opening your mouth slightly and exhaling.

An almost electric feeling surged through your body at the sensation of soft lips suddenly pressed against yours, heart beating in your throat as almost all the smoke in your lungs is taken in by Rhea. There's no doubt in your mind you're blushing, not moving an inch even after she pulls away suddenly, violently coughing out smoke. A few short buzzes from your phone give you momentum again, the need to check it automatic. You were grateful for something to do that made you seem more casual as your lips tingled and the woman next to you coughed and chugged water. It was the group chat of friends you'd gone out with tonight, and what you read actually ended up making it more difficult to act casual.

Every message seemed to be addressed to you:
-"Did you really go home with a girl tonite??? Glad one of us is getting some!"
-"Isn't Rhea supposed to be super mean?? Text if you need help!"
-"Congratulations on picking up a lady from the bar! Who knew you had moves? (Seriously, did anyone know this?)"
-"If you have sex with Rhea Ripley, youNEED TO TELL ME"

"You must have lungs of steel," the sound of her voice made you slam your phone face-down on the couch next to you. Rhea has composed herself, but seems to be unaware of your flustered behavior. "How are you not coughing?" she's looking at you like you have superpowers, her sharply-lined eyes pinking up. You can't help but giggle at the genuine awe coming from someone who - as far as you knew - was difficult to impress. "I've had this piece for a while now, so I'm used to it," you answer, bringing it up to your lips to take another hit.

Rhea watches the smoke move through the water and glass, putting a hand up and shaking her head when you offered her more. "It's definitely hitting me," she tells you.
"I can see it in the pinks of your eyes," you joke, letting billowing clouds escape as you spoke.
"Shut up!" Rhea laughs and playfully slaps your arm.

It feels impossible to keep yourself from grinning at the sight of that dazzling smile.
"Feeling better?" you ask, putting the lighter and bong aside and relaxing into the couch. Your guest follows suit, leaning back and stretching out her muscular arms before folding them behind her head, "For now."
The ominous nature of the statement makes you pause and look up at her, just in time to see her peek at you through one eye. She grins and your collective laughter fills the room.