Falling Under by Jasinda Wilder Read Free Book Online Page B

hobby.”
    “A hobby ?” She shakes her head and leans toward me. “Oz, that was crazy. I’ve never heard anything like it. You could totally be a professional musician with talent like that.”
    I’m uncomfortable. I set my guitar on the floor beside the bed and switch the amp off. This seems to have backfired. I dig through the front pocket of my backpack, find my pack of smokes. I ignore the tin that holds my stash, even though I’d like a toke or four right now. I light a cigarette, slide open the window, and stand beside it. Maybe she’ll be so grossed out by the fact that I smoke that she’ll leave me alone. I mean, I don’t want her to leave me completely alone, just to forget this idea that I could ever play some stupid country music for her.  
    “No way, sweetness. I just do it for fun. For myself. You’re the only person who’s ever heard me play. Like, not even my mom. I don’t know why I played for you, really. My point is, that’s what I play. Not some twangy country bullshit. I’m not the guy for what you want. Sorry.” I blow a long stream of smoke out of my nostrils, and Kylie backs away from the cloud, waving her hand at the smoke.  
    She moves off the bed, watching me. “Why do you smoke?”
    I shrug. “I dunno. I just do. I like it.”
    “Does it taste good? Or does it make you, like, high? I’ve never understood why people smoke cigarettes.”
    I laugh. “Clearly. No one you know smokes, huh?”
    “I think my dad used to, but he quit a long time ago. I think he still does, actually, every once in a while when he’s in the garage, but never when I’m around.” She sniffs the air, and I can tell she’s fighting her curiosity. “Let me try.” She reaches for my cigarette.
    I hold it away from her. “No way. No fucking way, Kylie.”
    “Why not?”  
    “Because it’s bad. And you’re good.”
    “It’s not bad for you?”  
    I shake my head, not in denial, but in disbelief. “No, it’s bad for me. But it doesn’t matter if it’s bad for me.”
    She’s clearly perplexed by this answer. “What the hell does that mean? Of course it matters. What if you get lung cancer?”
    “Then I get lung cancer. The only person who’d even remotely care is Mom.”
    Hurt registers in Kylie’s eyes. “What about me?”
    I ignore the pain in her blue eyes and keep pushing. “You’d get over it. You barely know me. This is just shiny-new-thing syndrome going on here for you,” I say, gesturing between her and me. I lean toward her, blow smoke right at her. “If you really knew me, you wouldn’t be here.”
    She doesn’t back away. Doesn’t register my words. She just reaches out, slowly, pinches the cigarette in my hands between her finger and thumb. Takes it from me. I let her. She put the slightly crushed filter to her lips, hesitates. She’s nervous. Not sure she wants to do this, knows she shouldn’t. But she does. She inhales, a huge hit. Shit. She’s probably going to cough so hard she pukes, I’ll bet.
    Yep. She starts hacking, hands the cigarette back to me, leaning over double and coughing so hard she nearly retches. I grab a handful of her hair and hold it out of the way.  
    “Breathe in, sweetness. It’ll pass in a second. Just try to breathe. You’ll be fine.” Holy shit, her hair is soft. Like fucking silk slipping between my fingers. She gasps, face pale, eyes watering and panicked. “Breathe in, Kylie. Force the oxygen in.”
    She opens her mouth and sucks in a deep breath, lets it out with a couple more coughs, and then begins to regain her color. “How— shit —how can you do that?”
    I shrug. “Everybody does that their first time. I puked the first time I tried to smoke. I did just what you did, took a big ol’ hit and sucked it right down. Puked all over the merry-go-round. I, for real, thought I was going to die. Of course, I was ten.”
    “Ten? You’ve been smoking since you were ten ?”
    I laugh. “No! That was just when I first tried