Natalie sits beside you, her fingers delicately holding the lit joint between them. The soft glow at the tip flickers as she takes a slow drag, inhaling deeply before exhaling a thin stream of smoke into the air. The scent lingers between you, earthy and unfamiliar.

She turns to you with a small, knowing smile, eyes slightly hooded from the high already settling in. “Alright,” she murmurs, shifting closer, “just breathe it in slow.”

Her free hand gently rests on your wrist, a grounding touch as she lifts the joint to your lips. You hesitate for a second before parting them slightly, letting her guide you. The moment feels strangely intimate—her gaze fixed on you, the warmth of her fingers against your skin.

You inhale as she instructed, but almost immediately, the smoke hits the back of your throat, harsh and overwhelming. You break into a fit of coughs, your chest tightening as the burn spreads through your lungs.

Natalie laughs softly, her voice low and amused. “Yeah, that happens,” she says, rubbing your back lightly as you try to regain composure. “First time always sucks, but you’ll get used to it.”

The dizziness creeps in slowly, your senses growing heavy as the weed starts to take hold. The world around you blurs at the edges, everything feeling a little softer, a little slower. Natalie watches you with a lazy smile, waiting for you to process the new sensation.

“See?” she murmurs, tilting her head. “Not so bad, right?”