Day 12: The Hookup, part 1

...

Well, there it was. I felt a keen mixture of excitement and dread. The tipsiness was starting to fade, too -- not good, since I wouldn't realistically be able to blame my reaction on that later. Greg was looking at me expectantly; I had no idea what to say.

"Is that so?" I asked, flirtatiously, feigning surprise. Looks like I'd landed on playing hard to get as the best way out. "Hmmm. Then perhaps we should... avoid a scandal and make our way back inside." Followed, of course, by a come-hither smile that probably looked hilariously gummy.

"But of course," Greg responded smoothly, with an assenting nod. He wasn't a bad guy, really.

We wandered back through the cellar stairs and into the basement, which was just as sparsely populated as the back porch had been. Apparently the lot of the guests had slipped out right around the time Greg and I stepped outside. Shit, what time was it anyway? Standing up reminded me acutely of all the alcohol I had been drinking. I had been distracted by Greg's flirtations.

"Looks like the scandal has gotten away from us," Greg said, echoing exactly how I felt. Jesus, I didn't want the people at work to get the wrong impression of me. Or one that I hadn't intricately tailored, to be more precise.

Greg was wiping down the couch, not at all the type of gesture that was going to make it easy to bow out. Even so, I started to try. "I better, uh, get going..."

"You could get going," Greg grinned up at me from the couch, "But have you ever seen Fear and Loathing? It's crazy by itself, but at... let's see, 4:30am, with a few drinks in you and whatever else, it's insane."

I couldn't tell if he was speaking from experience or supposing. It did sound interesting, though. Greg put me off and put me at ease in turns, but maybe the problem was me not checking my awkwardness. I summed up about two dozen more pro's and con's in my mind before allowing myself to land on the decision I had secretly been hoping for: stay.

I scooted over next to him on the couch, which smelled pleasantly of cleaning solution. "What's the movie about?"

"Well, well, glad you could stay." I expected him to move to put his arm around me or something, but he didnt. Fine with me. "This is really one of my favorites. We're actually kinda in the middle, or maybe near the end now, but really it's all an art piece about this one guy's crazy drug bender during a road trip to Las Vegas." Greg was reaching under the couch and fiddling with something. "Have you ever seen Trainspotting?"

I nodded my head yes, not sure what he was doing.

He produced what looked like a jewelry box and put it up on the coffee table. He glanced at me curiously for a second before continuing. "The message is similar, but taken to the extreme. Just a depiction of addiction and the insane places it leads you, especially when you jump on its back like it's some crazy motorcycle."

My mind was reeling. Greg was taking out a pipe and a bag of weed -- I had never even seen marijuana before, let alone did I know how to smoke it. Nor did I know if I even wanted to. Scratch that, I did want to, very much, but I didn't know if I should. And this film -- Greg had mentioned addiction. I wondered if I should tell him about my dad?

All the while that he was packing the bowl, Greg continued passionately describing the cinematography, gesturing with his hands and the lighter. I dared not interrupt; it was as if he was casting some strange sleepwalking spell on me. The movie, the party, the lights and the music, and now this. Where was I? What was I doing? I hadn't even smoked yet---

"Here you go," Greg said casually, exhaling smoke and holding the lit pipe in front of me. I must have looked either terrified or comical because he followed up with, "You smoke, right?"

"Haha, I uh..." I started, letting an embarrassed giggle slip out, "well, I've never smoked before." I bit my lip in an attempt at an apologetic gesture, hoping to incur some sympathy.

"Oooh, ok. I guess I should have asked." Greg's face was hard to read. "But if you want to try it, you're welcome to -- I'm sure you'll like it."

"Um..." Shit. Shit, shit. So many neurons were firing their confusion and exhilaration at once that my brain felt numb. Greg was looking at me, again expectant, awaiting an answer. And a pivotal answer -- if I said no, then what? And yes?

"Sure, ok," I said lamely. "Could you... show me what to do?"

Greg's eyes flashed for a second with what looked like excitement. He reached towards me...

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Word count: 833