“Dresses. I loved dresses. ”
It feels as if I’m turning my head through sand in order to look at him. My head rests on his stomach and I smile when the heat of his skin radiates past his T-shirt onto my cheek. Or maybe I’m smiling because it’s Isaiah and only he can make me smile.
I love his dark hair, shaved close to his scalp. I love his kind gray eyes. I love the earrings in both ears. I love…that he’s hot. Hot when he’s high. I giggle. He’s tragically hot when he’s sober. I should write that down.
“Do you want a dress, Beth?” Isaiah asks.
He never teases me when I remember my childhood. In fact, it’s one of the few times he asks endless questions.
“Would you buy me one?” I don’t know why, but the thought lightens my heart. The teeny sober part of my brain reminds me I don’t wear dresses, that I spurned ribbons. The rest of my mind, lost in a haze of pot, enjoys the game—the prospect of a life with dresses and ribbons and someone willing to make my wildest dreams come true.
“Yes,” he answers without hesitating.
The muscles around my mouth become heavy and the rest of my body, including my heart, follows suit. No. I’m not ready for the comedown. I close my eyes and will it to go away.
“She’s baked. ” Noah’s not baked and part of me resents him for it. He quit pot and being carefree when he graduated, and he’s taking Isaiah with him. “We waited too long. ”
“No, it’s perfect. ” Isaiah moves and places my head on something soft and fluffy. He gave me a pillow. Isaiah always takes care of me.
“Beth?” His warm breath drifts near my ear.
“Yes. ” It’s a groggy whisper.
“Move in with us. ”
Last spring, Noah graduated from high school and the foster system. He’s moving out and Isaiah’s going with him, even though Isaiah can’t officially leave foster care until he graduates next year and turns eighteen. My aunt doesn’t care where Isaiah lives as long as she keeps receiving the checks from the state.
I try to shake my head no, but it doesn’t work too well in sand.
“The two of us talked and you can have a bedroom and we’ll share the other one. ”
They’ve been at this for weeks, trying to convince me to leave with them. But ha! Even stoned I can foil their plans. I flutter my eyes open. “Won’t work. You need privacy for sex. ”
Noah chuckles. “We have a couch. ”
“I’m still in high school. ”
“So’s Isaiah. In case you didn’t notice, you’re both seniors this year. ”
Smart-ass. I glare at Noah. He merely sips his beer.
Isaiah continues, “How else are you going to get to school? You gonna ride the bus?”
Hell no. “You’re going to get your sorry ass up early to pick me up. ”
“You know I will,” he murmurs, and I find a hint of my bliss again.
“Why won’t you move in with us?” Noah asks.
His direct question sobers me up. Because, I scream in my mind. I flip onto my side and curl into a ball. Seconds later something soft covers my body. The blanket tucked right underneath my chin.
“Now, she’s done,” says Isaiah.
MY ASS VIBRATES. I stretch before reaching into my back pocket for my cell.
For a second, I wonder if pretty boy from Taco Bell somehow managed to score my number. I dreamed of him—Taco Bell Boy.
He stood close to me, looking all arrogant and gorgeous with his mop of sandy-blond hair and light brown eyes. This time he wasn’t trying to play me by getting my number. He was smiling at me like I actually mattered.