Back to Back Pt. 06

Back at the campsite, Artie was nestled into his chair with a blanket and a pillow. He was watching the flames and when I returned it was like I drew him out of a trance.

"Ready to get ignorant?" I asked as I grabbed the beer out of the tent and held it up.

Artie just shook his head, but he held out his hand for a can. I set the case between us and grabbed the speaker I brought out of my backpack. I connected to my phone and played some easy-listening music in the background. Artie and I drank our beers and talked about our day, coming up with ideas for what we'd want to do when we come back. We were definitely coming back. Artie was the perfect camping partner.

I was maybe six beers deep when I remember the other thing I planned for us to do. I abruptly got up and started rifling through the tent.

"What are you doing?" Artie asked with a slight drawl, but I didn't respond.

I just kept digging through my shit. Eventually I found them and I emerged from the tent, holding them up high.

"Grabbing these bad boys."

"Are those what I think they are?" His tone deeply unsettled.

"If you think they're 'nice doinks', then yes they are."

"Is that more of your slang? I think it's pot. Is it pot?"

"Yes, it's 'pot', you geezer. And nah, actually. Doink was new to me, I think that's west coast shit. Schmidt gave 'em to me, you know him from the frat?"

"Husky guy, big beard and always wearing the same oversized hoodie?"

"That's the one. He gave them to us for the hike but I wasn't tryna rock climb while cooked, I have no clue how stoners do that shit."

"Sounds dangerous." He was still eyeing the jays warily.

"You ever smoked?"

"No, I haven't." He seemed to get over his trepidation because he asked to look at them. He examined them as if they were an alien specimen, turning them over and tracing the contours, sniffing them and squishing them softly with his fingers. Clearly he had never held a jay in his life.

"Wanna hit it with me?" I asked once I felt he had enough time groping our jays.

"You're going to smoke?" He looked skeptical as fuck, his brow furrowed while he bit the inside of his lip.

"I was gonna smoke one, but you don't have to. For real, if you don't want to you absolutely should not."

"What does it do?"

"It gets you high."

"Frick off. I meant how does it feel?"

"I guess it depends on what strain it is. Schmidt said it's sativa, golden something. He said its a 'giggly high'."

"That doesn't sound so bad... How much do you do?"

"I don't know, you just smoke until you had enough."

Artie stared off into the distance for a moment, then turned back to me with a stern look in his eye.

"Okay," he stated.

"Okay?"

"Okay, I'll smoke it with you."

"You sure? Not tryna peer pressure you."

"No, it sounds like fun. I just... Have never done it before."

"Most people don't even get high the first time, and if they do its not much."

I lit up the end of the joint, rotating it around so it wouldn't canoe.

"So, you kind of suck on the end like a straw, but if you were drinking into your lungs instead of your stomach. Then take a deep, full-chested breath in and hold for a second. Then blow out. Here, like this-"

I demonstrated with the lit jay, showing him how to hit it then pull in and blow out. I tried to be all slick with it but I instantly started coughing up a lung. I forgot how hot the smoke can get when you smoke jays, and that shit shit my throat hard. Artie was looking at me like I grew three heads.

"People enjoy that?" Artie asked. I flipped him off and silenced my coughing fit.

"Okay, don't do it like that. Do it like this." I retried and took a much more successful hit.

I held out the jay to Artie.

"Two hits then pass it back, puff-puff-pass."

Artie still had skepticism written all over his face but he took the jay. Looking at in for a second, before holding it to his lips and taking the fattest, chillest pull. He pulled it in, held it for a second, then slowly blew it out like a completely and utter pro. My jaw was on the fucking floor.

"You FUCKING liar!" Artie practically jumped out of his seat he was so startled.

"Why are you yelling!?" He screamed back.

"You lying piece of shit! How many times have you smoked before?"

"I've never smoked marijuana before. I've smoked cigars and cigarettes." He stated simply, as if that didn't leave me with more questions than answers. The fuck?

"When the fuck did you smoke cigarettes?"

He shrugged.

"A 'brick' ago, as you'd say. It was only a few times."

"Okaaaay. Why?" Innocent little Artie... smoking cigarettes. It was almost impossible to wrap my head around.

He shrugged again. Clearly he didn't care to elaborate. He passed me the jay.

We passed it back and forth, Artie continuing to out-smoke me. We got down to the nub and the smoke was really starting to kill my throat, so I threw it into the fire. The beer was helping.

I was so, so smacked. My unfocused eyes felt fuzzy and warm. My body was completely languid, stretched out in my chair. The fire was making me feel like a lizard basking on a rock. I was debating on flipping around to get my back when Artie suddenly said something and got up.

He rushed into the tent and when he came back he was holding a forty-ounce HydroFlask. He shook it back and forth and I heard ice rattling around inside.

"We still have ice?" I asked slowly.

"I forgot it." His speech was slurred and very slow.

"I didn't think it would still be cold but it does."

I giggled like a little boy at his poor grammar.

Artie was walking around our campsite, picking up sticks and then throwing them.

"What's up?" I asked. I was lost. Artie gestured at me to wait a moment.

He came back to the chair with two long sticks and pulled a pocket knife out of his fucking ass. Has he had that the whole time? He whittled the the dirty layer from the sticks and opened the water bottle. What he pulled out fucking killed me for some reason.

He slowly and carefully slid the sticks into the water bottle, and when he pulled them out they had fucking hot dogs stuck on the ends. I burst out in laughter.

"What. The fuuuuuck?" The imagery of Artie putting hot dogs into his water bottle was cracking me the fuck me.

Artie blew out a puff of breath through his nose, almost snickering, and handed me one of the sticks. Can't lie, a hot dog sounded so fucking good.

I roasted my dog but I got caught up looking at the stars. They were shining so brightly this far away from civilization.

"Are you gonna eat that?" Artie said, already having finished his.

I looked over and his eyes were glazed over. He was staring at my hot dog like he was worried it was about to grow legs and run away. I started to hand it to him but before I could even really move my arm he snatched it. In seconds it was gone.

"Do we have anything else to eat?"

"In the tent."

I was feeling so sluggish and I knew if I got up and went into that tent there was no fucking way I was coming back out until morning.

"Down to watch a movie or something?"

"I can't focus on anything right now, but I do want to lay down."

I put out the fire with what was left in my water bottle and retired to the tent. The air mattress was calling my name.

I changed into my onesie, which was starting to smell a little strong. I definitely needed a real shower, the pond water wasn't cutting it. Artie had already pulled out my laptop and was scrolling through what I had downloaded. He seemingly chose something because he discarded the laptop on the mattress and had begun to tunnel his way into his usual blanket burrow. I got comfortable next to him and hit play on whatever one of the recent slasher remakes I downloaded. Horror movies in the woods... Perfect. The vibes were just right to get scared shitless. I like a visceral horror movie experience, what can I say?

I tried to pay attention to the movie but the slightest provocation and my mind would wander. The rustling of the trees from outside the tent, the slight flickering of the cheap lantern I bought, the smell of Artie's hair. My stoned brain could not hang. I didn't think Artie was doing much better either. His head was tilted and was resting on my shoulder facing toward the screen, but his eyes were staring a hole through wall of the tent. I waved the hand that wasn't around him in front of his face and... nothing.

"You feeling okay?"

"Hm?" Artie asked slowly. His head tilted up toward mine and we looked at each other.

Without thinking my hand came up and brushed the hair off his forehead. It made no difference, it just fell back into place, but a slight smile graced his lips. The soft light from the lantern was warming his face and making him look like the sunset.

"I asked how you're feeling?"

"Like a water bed."

"Pffft." A laugh escaped me.

"Is that a good thing?" I inquired.

"I don't think I'd do it again, but I don't mind it."

"Good. If you start to feel any type of way let me know."

"Got it."

We just relaxed in each other's company, enjoying our buzz. I felt like I was floating on air and sinking into quicksand at the same time. I pulled Artie to my side and immediately felt more grounded.

I looked down at him, and he tilted his head to look up at me.

"Is it cool if I turn off the light and the laptop?"

Artie slowly nodded.

I shut everything off and we were cloaked in darkness, the only sounds the faint noises of the forest. The chirping of the crickets was lulling me right to sleep. Artie tugged my arm closer to his chest and wrapped it around him tighter, pulling his back to my chest.

He sighed in contentment, and I'm sure I did too.

"You know you're my best friend?" I asked Artie.

"I do now." He said sleepily. Such a wise ass, bro.

It was quiet for a little while, and I thought for sure Artie had fallen asleep when he spoke again.

"You were always my best friend... Even after you moved, you still were."

I wanted to tell him about how many nights I laid in bed clinging to the memory of our friendship. Tell him about how no one ever meant to me as much as he did.

"Me too." I whispered.

"I love you, Artie." Came out of my mouth before I even realized I was saying it.

My face heated up. I couldn't remember the last time I blushed.

But it was true, I love Artie. I had never really thought about it before then, but I knew it to be true. I always loved Artie, I couldn't remember a time when I didn't. I'd do anything for him.

"Me too." He whispered back.

I fell asleep that night with Artie pressed to me, my arm around his chest and a hand over his heart.

********

Thank you for reading this far and my sincerest apologies for the delay! I originally planned for this chapter to be close to twice as long but I haven't had a lot of time to write and wanted to get something up. Hopefully that explains why this chapter is on the shorter side and lacking in the sexual aspect. The next chapter should be up much sooner that this one was, a week or less hopefully. Please let me know your thoughts!