Alive

Chapter 15

Oliver

(Sunday, May 12)

I don't know how much Elle must have paid for this weed. It's nothing like the stuff they bring to the parties. I've learned to avoid that shit like the plague since it never ends well for me. I was gonna say no, but I've never seen Elle like this, and there's no way I'm gonna be lamer than my shut-in neighbor. Roommate. Whatever. No way in hell. Besides, it's just a joint, and we're in her apartment. Not much could go wrong.

But who the hell am I kidding? I need this. I'd take whatever Elle offered. Anything to get my mind off of everything. I take another hit, watching Elle out of the corner of my eye. She's got her eyes closed, inhaling her joint like it's life itself. Or maybe just sanity. For a minute, I'm just staring, waiting for the full effects to kick in. Focusing on the curves of her shirt, willing them to take over the curves of that pistol grip I can't get out of my head.

"How is it?" she asks. She tilts her head toward me, cracking an eye open. Oh. There's some green in her brown eyes. I think. They're super bright. I never noticed that before. So I lean in closer to get a better look. She laughs but scoots away. "What?"

"Like," I say, frowning when the words don't come. "They're glowy."

Elle laughs again, but louder. I laugh too, trying to help her understand, but the more I try, the worse it gets. Or better, because now neither of us can seem to breathe, we're laughing so hard. I think I had too much. Or just had it too fast. Or... I don't know, and I don't care anymore.

I really don't. Time stops. Everything stops. We're in this pocket, where nothing exists. Just Elle laughing, us trying to say things, but then laughing again. Because she keeps making these faces, and these sounds, and once she farts which is the funniest shit I've ever heard. I've never thought Elle was capable of this. Her eyes are bright and glazed over, and she's the one who orders pizza, which is nice because I don't think I could tell her I want it even if I tried.

We're waiting for it for an eternity, so Elle jumps up and stumbles over to her laptop, turning music on. Which makes me remember my stereo, so I break into my apartment and haul the giant thing next door. It's a miracle I'm able to hook it up, and Elle spends the entire time giggling with a wipe in her hand, like she's gonna clean the speakers, but she doesn't.

Neither of us does. She just leans down, presses play, and everything's alive. Me, Elle, the room. It's some weird song I'd never listen to on my own. Angsty, but loud. And loud is what counts. She cracks a smile, mouthing a couple of the words, and then she's dancing. Like she did yesterday, but with this I-don't-give-a-fuck attitude that makes it hard to look away. So I don't. I keep watching her, and then I can't take it anymore, and I start dancing too. Which I'm fucking good at, usually. Not tonight. Tonight I'm running into things, laughing my butt off, watching as Elle gets really into the next song. Enough that she jumps up on the couch, belting out the chorus with more gusto than I've ever seen in my life.

And it's a song I kind of know, so I join in, slurring words together that seem to fit, not really thinking anything, just knowing one thing. I'm alive. More alive than ever before. Who knows if I'm depressive or manic or anything? Elle's just looking at me, like I'm me. Like she gets it. And she doesn't tell me to stop. She's just dancing, and dancing, and laughing, and dancing, and smoking. Until a knock at the door makes us both yell, and I trip over the couch to get to the door while she's frantically trying to shut the music off.

I don't remember the delivery guy. Or the next...however long. There's just pizza, and soft music, Elle's laptop, and a weird trail of YouTube videos we insist on showing each other. I'm coming down, I can sense it. Because eventually I notice the walls again and the way Elle's leaning into me, almost touching her shoulder against mine. And I notice the way she smells, like soap, soft and clean.