He passed the piece to me and our hands brush in the exchange. I lit the bowl and inhaled. I smiled and held my hit as he stared at me dazedly. I passed him the bowl and as he lit up, I exhaled my smoke directly into his face and laughed. I wondered if he remembered what this action meant. As if he knew what I was thinking he asked, “So did you want to kill me? Or fuck me?” It was the summer of my junior year. In a couple...