I can picture a drizzly Spring afternoon in Corvallis. I stood next to a semi truck that looked like it had been there a while; vegetation grew on the wheels. Next to me stood Kay and Silas.

All three of us waited for a drug dealer to show up. He would pick us up and take us somewhere, I assumed. But my assumption was wrong. What ended up happening was him picking us up, and us smoking in the car right then as he drove. We’re in a Weed Taxi, my baked brain thought. They should make a show off that.

He made the route hidden, which also meant we would be going through the scenic drive. I watched the trees, swaying like concert-goers during a slow song, out my window in the back seat. Everything looked like it’d come out of a fantasy novel. I imagined the car was a dragon I rode over the foliage. My own giddy laughs harmonized with Kay’s giggling.

Stepping out of the car was like stepping back to Earth after a trip to the moon.

My phone buzzed.

titan._.fighter (Zeke Beir) messaged you: Hey, u wanna get high?

I can't describe what I felt in my process of answering that. First of all, I was inebriated. But I had also spent so much energy on trying and failing to get him back. We had been broken up for maybe half a month. It was May 12th. 

Here's why he broke up with me:

I spat it out about the panic attack-- ''I don't know why it happened, I just need some help dealing with it, please,'' --I told him that I had just started crying for no reason and I was really scared. For no reason; back then, that's what I genuinely thought.

He texted back.

Huh... Sorry Im high

My heart sank a little that day when he sent that.

As long as the sober you understands

Maybe

The next day I reiterated. He responded with a fucking drooly face. 

Are you still high?

What? No, I'm at school!

Good.

It's not good. I hate being sober.

Can you please just help me?

I can't.

Why??

Because I don't care. I can't care. I'm just numb.

We had an all-day text argument right after that. The day after he broke it off, excusing it with a "you're just too young". That wasn't the truth. If I was too young, he wouldn't have said yes to my asking him out. And he didn't say yes because he was desperate, he had that creep Mac to keep him company; he didn't say yes because he didn't know how to say no, because he'd sure said no to us going out plenty of times. I wasn't too young for him. Age doesn't matter to a person like Zeke. Zeke had just used me up and was throwing me out. 

Yet, he was texting me, in May. Not only was he asking me to get high with him, but he was asking to come over and stay the night at my house. Not only was he asking to come over and stay the night at my house, but he was bringing someone else with him.

I should have said no, but a deep gut feeling told me to follow this just for a night. 

Sure...

I pictured a redheaded, douchey-looking guy with the same cocky smile Zeke had. That was the type that Zeke liked to have around him. 

I stood out in the rain waiting for a door to open. Mom was in the car parked about 25 feet away. My favorite pants were soaked and yet those two took their sweet, sweet time.

I watched the door slowly budge open, and then come swinging outwards to reveal Zeke, followed by another hidden in shadows. I turned before I could look at the person clearly. Neither Zeke nor this person looked up to meet my face, instead favoring the ground. I trekked, blank-faced, to the car. The identity of this new person didn't concern me. Not yet. 

They sat in the seats behind me. The car was packed full of stuff left from a vacation that I can't remember having (must've been boring). The stuff only left room for two people, so I'd either have to move the shit out of the way and sit next to the Mystery Guest or just sit up front. I chose the latter option. It was easier.

Zeke kept his mouth shut while the radio played music that I liked, which made the music sound so much better. The rain pattering on the windows was more talkative than the two behind Ma and me. 

"At 8 tomorrow is Damon Albarn," said the radio. This sends me jumping in my seat.

"Do you know who the Gorillaz are?" I ask Mystery Guest, practically wagging my tail. I had forgotten that the four of us were currently giving each other the silent treatment, but MG actually responded.

"I'm assuming it's a band," They said snarkily. I almost cried.

I don't understand what the hell is wrong with me, but whenever someone presents evidence that they dislike me, I will immediately be obnoxiously interested in them. I turned around, unbuckled, and decided on shoving all the shit away and sitting right next to this motherfucker. 

Wallace. Their name was Wallace. I knew this already, but I hadn't yet realized how well that nerdy name fit this person. They looked exactly like the movie version of Harry Potter, with the blue eyes. Well, I'm assuming Harry Potter didn't have gages like Wallace. (I use the term 'they' by the way because Wallace wasn't as see-through as Zeke. Zeke wore his longing to be a 'real man' on his fucking sleeves. Wallace was more confident. Wallace mixed and matched styles, feminine? masculine? It didn't matter to Wallace. Just looking at Them, I felt like this was the one I would understand, and They would be the one to understand me. 

I looked right at them and tried my best to engage the person who definitely was not who I was expecting, and Wallace stared right into Their lap and shut Their mouth. Okay, this wasn't working. This person definitely hated me.

The rest of the car ride was agonizing. 

..................................................................................................................................................

I hadn't thought about giving Zeke a tour the first time he came to my house. With Wallace, it was no question I would give a tour.

I might sound like a stereotypical gay, but my family was moderately well-off. And I'm pretty proud of it, in an odd sort of boasting, arrogant, assholey way. The house was what I was most proud of. Shane looked at my house once and went "Woah, you're rich?". You see, it was a pretty large house--not a mansion, however--compared to the shacks that riddled the valley, it wasn't that hard to be considered a 'rich person's house'. The best part about it was the balcony.

It was an area on the second floor where you could enter through a sliding glass door and see the gardens. The whole thing had the surface area of the average bathroom, as in, it was large for a balcony. It was decked out with two rocking chairs and a creepy owl statue about the size of my head sitting on the railing. The garden view was extravagant. The people we had bought the house from were professional gardeners, and their house reflected that. The view was what tied it all together. 

The balcony was the last item on the tour. It was where we were going to set up and smoke. I lay out a comforter on the floor of the balcony, then set a me-sized stuffed dog I got that Christmas next to the comforter as a pillow, and then dumped an ocean of a blanket on top of it all. The blanket was enormous, grey, fuzzy, and we were going to hotbox it while all three of us were underneath. 

Zeke took out a DS case as soon as we were under the blanket. These two had brought some strange items over. Wallace had a mysterious lockbox that was shown to me but never opened. And then there was this DS case. It was also Wallace's. I know this because Zeke would've brought over that small plastic container if it was his. 

Wallace kept that goofy half-smile that had been had kept on Their face throughout the day. Zeke packed the bowl of a bong, which was made out of a can of sweet tea, a metal pen, and some aluminum foil; yes, it was just as ugly as it sounds. I was currently zoning out in the blanket fort we had propped up with each of our heads--three people was the ideal amount of blanket prop-uppers. 

To be fairly honest, I had no idea how to use a bong. They kept telling me to hold my finger on the carp (a hole in the can), but then why was there a carp in the first place? I learned later that there actually wasn't supposed to be one, Zeke was just an idiot.

We successfully made the air in the blanket completely foggy. My first hotbox was a success. 

Wallace had to go to the bathroom. 

As They left, I caught the sliver of Zeke's face in the light of a slit in the curtains. 

"He likes you y'know." the sliver said. 

"Really?" I responded. The strain hadn't yet hit me. The word 'he' confused me greatly, but maybe Zeke was saying it right.

The two of us couldn't get in anything else in before Wallace came back to us. That was a short pee break.

Knowing that this person really liked me--and more--spurred me into action. As we smoked our second bowl, I inched closer to Wallace. When we came out of the blanket, I offered to pet Thier head.

Their hair was not soft. It was stiff like Wallace had put lots of product in it. But I decided to compliment it anyways. At least it looked nice on that head of Theirs. 

"Thank you," Wallace purred. 

I enjoyed my high. It was a different strain that Wallace owned--it was calming, instead of overwhelming and, literally, deafening. 

Baked like a trio of cakes, we lied back on my dog. I was in the middle of these two now, and it was about to turn into a clusterfuck. 

"What do you want?" Wallace whispered in my ear as They snuggled into my armpit. Zeke was not this close, he was at least three inches away. 

"Uh... what?" I whispered back.

"What do you want, Carlin?" They whispered again. 

"I-I dunno..." I responded. What Was Going On?

Our conversation closed with that. Did They mean, like, sexually? Because in that case, the answer was 'nothing'. Maybe Wallace was a little too baked to function right now. I forgave Them for that awkward interaction.

Zeke squeezed my arm. Hard.

He turned around and clung to my arm like it was his possession. What was he doing? The two of them were closing in on me, and I had nowhere else to go. 

"Let's head into my room, it's getting cold," I said, loudly so that both of them would hear it. 

Wallace, yet again, had to take another micro pee break. This gave Zeke ample opportunity to confuse me more.

"I'm getting jealous of you two," he said flatly.

I was too high to respond, but I can still remember precisely what was said.

Zeke heard the bathroom door opening and jumped on the bed. In the very center. 

Wallace came in, looked at Zeke very obviously separating Them and I, and it was then that face changed from a goofy grin to a look of pure hatred. Wallace looked at Zeke's turned back like he wanted to just stab Zeke and bolt to safety. 

I tried my hardest to loosen the tension. 

"Goddamnit Zeke, quit being such a cock-block." I joked. 

Zeke didn't let up. I layed down, facing my ex, gazing at the faint stretch of Wallace I could see just beyond him. Zeke's eyes were closed, but he wasn't sleeping. His breathing was too erratic. I kept my eyes open for as long as I could bear, fearing that when I closed them, Zeke's eyes would fly open and something would happen that I wouldn't be able to help.