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His First.

The room is certainly not built  for a dozen people. A dozen youth in different states of drunkenness. He is part of the dozen. Sitting on the floor, in the corner, head bowed. Slightly flushed by the few shots he had before. He still hasn’t  learnt how to handle them. They make him dizzy. On other occasions , the buzz leave him with an agonizing headache. The headache is the least of his concerns, he has a few hours before they kick in . He is living in the moment , enjoying what is supposedly fun.

There is a speaker in the room, blaring a gengetone tune. He can’t tell who the artists are, but digs the beats. A card game is going on. He isn’t interested. He sucks at cards, poker. Instead , he is thinking of her . She has occupied his mind these past few days. She is one of the reasons he has come. He wants an opportunity to talk to her ,alone. The only problem is, he cant find her . Even if he could , he doesn’t know what he would say to her.

As if on cue, he hears a knock. The door is opened, and there she is. Accompanied by two other guys carrying two other bottles of liquor. There is a slight celebratory chant. Abandoned party cups are found. The bottles are ‘blessed’ and poured out. He doesn’t want more liquor, he is trying to save face. He doesn’t want to get sick in front of her.

She searches the room. Meets his gaze. Smiles shyly. He’s too nervous to smile. So he waves at her. Invites her to him. His heart is thumping . She fights bodies to where he is. He makes space for her . In his little corner, that is now theirs. She sits with him. He doesn’t know what to say. He tries to steal a glance. Gets caught at it , grins embarrassingly. Want a blunt, she asks.

No he doesn’t want a blunt. He has never smoked before, he doesn’t know how. He wants to say no, but finds himself saying yes. Out of her jacket pocket , comes a bag and a blank. She asks him if he rolls. He says no, he ain’t a chiq. She half laughs. And begins to fill the blank evenly with weed. He’s never seen a blunt being rolled before , but from the looks of things, she’s an expert. She’s done in no time. Giving him no time to back off. She’s asks if he wants to light it up. He low-key wants to say no , he ain’t Major Lazer. He doesn’t , he feels like that’s a stretch. So he says yes.

He’s panicking , what if it doesn’t light. He takes the blunt and lighter . It’s kinda conical . One end is bigger than the other. He doesn’t know which end to light, he looks at it nervously, does a quick piky piky ponky, and settles on the larger end. He raises his gaze at her , she’s looking at him. He quickly shifts it, and presses the lighter , then brings it closer to the blunt. The lighter’s flames embrace the blunt with a short dance. The flames give birth to a tiny cloud of smoke. That rises and slowly fades away. He looks at the smoke, he doesn’t know what to do next. She takes the blunt away and lifts it to her mouth, inhales it. Then takes it from her mouth. Holds her breath, then after a moment that seems like a century , she exhales it , on his face . He feels suffocated . He coughs. She laughs . He looks at her, she has a coy grin.

She takes two more puffs and hands it to him.  He puts it on his mouth. A bit too eager to please, he draws it in. Takes a long drag. It’s too much . It chokes him. He tries to stop the cough, but he can’t. It comes out , in spurts. His face is red. He’s flushed yet again. And embarrassed in equal measure. She laughs. Your first , she ask. He says yes.

 C’mon, I’ll teach you.


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