Sebastian 'Bash' Walker is a partying Good-Time bloke who landed a full ride scholarship from out of The Bush of the outback in Australia to Magnolia Falls University. Magnolia Falls is located in Cajun Country, Louisiana USA where the food is hot...
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Following the GPS in my lap, I notice my phone is slow to charge. It's been sucking at fully charging since I bought this fucking bus. Honestly, it's probably the shitty vehicle rather than my phone. Once I find a place to live, I'll be able to get an actual full charge on my phone and a shower. And a fucking laundry machine.
I've driven to what is obviously off-campus housing. Based on all the MFU flags hanging from railings and remnants of house parties still sprinkled on lawns like co-ed confetti.
When my GPS signals I've reached my destination, I park across a large two-story house with a wrap-around porch. Lights are haphazardly hanging from the covered roof over the porch and there are tattered couches set up out on the grass where what looks like a horseshoe pit has been erected. Lights are on inside from the many windows so I rub my face to wake myself up and remove my phone from its charger and stuff my keys into my pocket.
The moon is high in the sky and the clear night sky shines brightly, overshadowing the old fake gaslamp light posts lined on either side of the road.
She was here... And she possibly died here..."I can't be afraid." I tell myself and steel my spine then march across the street. I skip a step onto the sidewalk and kick a red cup from lying in the middle of the walkway and head towards the front porch steps, glancing to a scratched-up black motorcycle I know as Bash's.
I backtrack, stepping backward then walk over to the bike inspecting it. Perhaps it would give me some sort of clue. I know it's a stretch but I'm desperate. However, it's obvious he'd have washed it by now especially if Foxy was on this bike.
It's a smaller bike and with the size of him, it would be a tight squeeze. Foxy and I are tall for girls. Both of us are the same height at 5'10''. And from what I remember about him, he was at least six feet, maybe a little taller.
I note the scrapes on the paint job as well as the metal parts of the bike on the left side then ignore the guilt that may be brewing in my stomach. He nearly hit me, not the other way around.
"Can I help you?" A deep voice asks, my stomach drops quickly and I snap my eyes over to a figure on the porch watching me. The hairs on my neck and arms rise and I narrow my eyes, not recognizing the man standing there shirtless, dressed only in gym shorts.
"Umm, yes." I clear my voice so the fright isn't detectable and leave the motorcycle then reach the front steps, looking up at the guy watching me. He's chiseled and thick, tan, with a faded hairstyle and dark brown hair. "I spoke to Jared earlier and I asked if I could come by and check out your house."
His eyes thin, just as mine had, and he looks me up and down, sending another chill down my spine, "You look familiar?"
"Yes, um my sister is Foxy Lewis-."
His thinned eyes round instantly when I mention her name, "Shit, ummm- Aspen right?" He snaps his fingers and points at me.
