Love Drugged by James Klise

Author:James Klise
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: young adult, teen fiction, fiction, teen, teen fiction, teenager, angst, drama, romance, relationships, glbt, gay, homosexuality, self-discovery
Publisher: Llewellyn Worldwide, LTD.
Published: 2010-08-31T16:00:00+00:00

fifteen

I needed more pills. The ones I had taken were long gone, and now I faced a week in Mexico with Celia. While I knew exactly where to find more, getting my hands on them presented the challenge of metal doors and the lab staff, including friendly Dr. Gamez himself.

I called Celia. “What are you doing this afternoon?”

“Packing.” She sighed contentedly. “Thinking about our adventure together.”

“Me too. Can I come and see you? I’ll help you pack.”

“That’s sweet. But I don’t want you to see my swimsuit until we get there.”

“I don’t care about that,” I said, which was completely the truth.

“Well, I do. Besides, in about an hour, I’m leaving to get my hair cut.”

“I just want to spend some time with you before we go.”

“Wow,” she said. She wasn’t used to this version of me. “If you come right away, we can have maybe thirty minutes together.”

“Great!” I said, jumping up. “I’m leaving now.”

I flew out of the house and ran to Western Avenue. The ten minutes I had to wait for a bus seemed like forever. When I got to Celia’s neighborhood, I called her from my cell so she could meet me at the front door. I found her there grinning, with her arms folded. “Gee, someone’s acting uncharacteristically romantic today.”

“You bet.” I leaned forward to give her a kiss.

“Not here,” she said, pushing me away. “My dad might see.”

I followed her inside and up the staircase to her bedroom. She closed the door and we kissed. All the adrenaline I’d built up racing to her house had made me sweaty. It felt nice to stop and hold her.

She’d lit a candle before I arrived, so the bedroom smelled like vanilla and coconut. I’d been in there only once before. It was a large corner room, painted soft green and pale yellow. In addition to the standard bed and dresser, she had substantial furniture—a grown-up desk, an overstuffed chair with an ottoman. On the walls, museum prints showcased the Getty Museum in California, the Tate Gallery in London, and the Prado in Madrid. These were mounted in real frames with glass, not just taped up like the movie posters in my bedroom. This was the room of someone who took her life seriously. When would Celia realize that she was way out of my league?

She pulled me down next to her on the bed, between the open suitcase and the pillows. “So, why are you really here?”

“To see you.”

“Stop lying or I won’t kiss you.”

“Okay, the thing is—here’s the deal.” I took a couple breaths, my mind racing. “I’m nervous about flying.”

Her head fell back with a laugh. “You’ve never flown before? That’s so cute!”

“I wish I saw it that way.”

“Flying is no big deal. You take your assigned seat, strap yourself in, turn on your music, and fall asleep. In no time flat, you’re in another country and the vacation begins.”

“Yeah, it’s the strapping yourself in part that makes me nervous. As if there’s a real possibility you could crash.

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