“Keep up” he said, blowing out the cloud of smoke into her face and pushing the bong towards her.
She wiped the little bit of vodka that had spilled on her lips away with her hand and pointed to the bottle of soda behind him. “Chaser, please,” she pleaded, her voice hoarse and her throat burning.
“Finish the bowl first,” he held the tool over the bowl
She pressed her lips to the glass and started to pull. The smoke was thick and starting to yellow when he pulled the bowl and let her try to clear it - but her lungs weren’t big enough and she couldn’t help but cough, and cough, and gasp, and -
He pushed the soda bottle into her hands, and she managed a swallow before she was coughing again, hard, harder than before, seeing spots each time. Trying desperately to catch her breath, or some air, or some relief, until finally she managed a few raw lungfuls and slouched back into the chair.
“You said you could keep up,” he laughed.
She made a noise somewhere between a moan and a whine. That had been hours ago, at dinner at that upscale steakhouse, and she’d meant it about the moscow mules they’d been drinking - and about the vape pen outside, she had to admit.
But it was pride that made her say it about the edible in the uber, and about the detour to the dive bar downtown and the three shots there. The ride back was hazy but they’d definitely hit the pen and made the driver mad, she remembered laughing as he drove away.
They were at his house, and as they were standing at the door she’d kissed him. She remembered being in the kitchen, and him pouring her a mixed drink that tasted like candy and coffee. That she blamed on stubbornness, demanding he pour her just as much, and proving she was tough by hitting his pen.
But then she’d said - something - and now they were downstairs and she was proving she could go shot for shot and dab for dab and she couldn’t remember if her shirt being off was part of that deal or if she was just hot. How had she ended up sitting in his lap?
“Do you need a break?” he teased. He sounded like he was teasing. And she did need the break, needed fresh air and water and maybe to lie down for a while in the dark, but she couldn’t stop now. He was teasing her, she had to prove it.
She looked at him, the words taking too long to form. “Is it a shot or a dab?” she said, avoiding the question.
“You’re way behind, silly,” he chuckled. “There’s no way you catch up now.”
“What?” she twisted to face him. “Why? What am I at?”
He pointed to the table, to the other side, where there was a line of shots laid out. Four. The room was already spinning. There were pennies - nickels? Why were there coins? - between them, and one on each end.
She must’ve looked extra confused.
“Six dabs and four shots,” there was a slur in his voice as they shifted a little in the chair, and she leaned into it, into him. His arm was around her waist, she was so hot and she couldn’t move but that at least felt nice and his chest rumbled when he spoke. “I am, right now, six dabs and four shots ahead of you.”
Her heart was racing, she felt - not tired, but drifty. She tried to stand, he groped her ass at just the perfect time to weaken her knees and she collapsed back onto him. They were both laughing, then he looked down and kissed her, and she was grinding on his thigh as they made out like teenagers. She was reaching back for her bra when he stopped her.
“You said not until you proved you could keep up - or are you giving up?” he asked.
She remembered it as he said it. They’d been in the kitchen, he’d offered her an energy drink and had said it was ‘pretty intense’ and that he wouldn’t think less of her for not keeping up, and she’d told him that not only could she keep up but that she wouldn’t fuck him until he admitted it. He’d laughed and asked if that included his Friday night ritual, and she’d said it had - why did she keep agreeing to things like that? - and then he’d told her about the dabs downstairs and she’d gotten dizzy with excitement.
Now she was just dizzy. She relaxed into him and he groped her again, and she moaned a little despite herself. Feeling herself start to black out, she was reaching for the shot glasses and the suddenly -
- they’d moved, she was straddling his knee and he was holding the bong to her mouth, something was different but the only thing she could do was keep inhaling, even if her lungs were almost full. She twisted away from the glass but before she could exhale he clapped a hand on her face, covering her mouth, holding her nose, and she couldn’t do anything but writhe in his lap and struggle for air.
“Seven, six, five, four,” he was counting - why was he counting? She couldn’t breath, her lungs were burning and she felt like her chest would explode.
She looked up at him, pleading with her eyes as everything started to fuzz and dim, trying to hold on -
- and he pulled his hand away just a little, just long enough to blow out the cloud he’d made her hold, but before she could inhale the hand was back and now her starved lungs were screaming for air -
- for some reason, him laughing at her was hotter when she couldn’t breathe. “I like the way you arch your back,” he chuckled into her ear. “Going to show me more of that later?”
She nodded weakly, barely hearing him.
His hand moved away and she was gasping again, pulling forward as she filled her lungs over and over, desperately.
She looked up. Three shot glasses and four of the coins, piled over on the side. She couldn’t feel her face but there were only two shots left, she was catching up, and she couldn’t help but smile even as she steadied her breathing.
“What the fuuuck,” she slurred as she finished catching her breath. “What the fuck was that?”
He picked up a shot glass and her mind blanked - how was she supposed to take that shot when the room was moving so fast? - but then he raised it to his own lips and knocked it back.
“Do you not remember? You said if I made you hold it for just as long, it’d have to count for two.”
She shook her head and the room tilted with her. He coughed a little as he set the shot glass down in the pile with a clink, and slid two of the coins over to the pile. She stared at it for a moment before it clicked.
“Wait, what about the shot?” He laughed and she blushed and finished, “aah, what?”
“You really blacked out, huh?”
“Maybe a lil’ - a little bit,” she admitted. “It’s a lot. You’re a lot.”
“You don’t remember arguing about hypnosis?”
She shook her head. “Hypnosis is fake. And stupid.”
“We already - right. Well, deal was I take your shots for you and you try it. No harm, right?”
She rolled her eyes and reached for the next shot glass, pulling it toward her. He was saying something about it not being a good idea, and it was almost too heavy to lift, but she was determined to - prove him wrong? No - but she was determined to do it, and as soon as the glass hit her lips, even before she tasted the burn, she was gone again.
She opened her eyes, like in a dream.
He was talking and his words were like velvet in her ears. Convincing words, important words, the words didn’t matter as much as how they sounded, and they sounded like beautiful music, pulling her thoughts down into the melody.
And she was about to fully fall away when she heard that voice, telling her to keep up.
Far away, in her body, she felt - so much sensation - and then her body was getting heavier, and heavier, and she started to sway, and drift, and she was nearly falling, so heavy that no part of her could resist.
Then she heard his voice in her ear, and as he said the words it was easy for her to keep up.
And then his hungry mouth was on hers, but he was exhaling delicious smoke, and she breathed it in and it sent her reeling, she was barely holding on through the dizzy haze.
As she started to black out again, his voice was in her ear, reminding her she would always find a way to keep up.
