So you’re hanging out with Mila, which is no surprise, but you’re smoking—which isn’t so typical, not anymore. You should know better at this point; weed makes you pretty fucking paranoid, even when you’re just chilling with Ian in his room or stealing your sister’s vape to put you to sleep. It’s bad at the moment too, because Mila is doing that thing she does—as she lights the joint in her mouth, fingers slipping on the striker of the hot-pink lighter—where she’s letting the silence stretch, just to see how uncomfortable you’ll get,; to see what you’ll say.
