Night Of Love

Chapter Three

I stare back at myself in the reflection of the window of my car, tucking my stray hair out of sight.

Driving home alone buzzed is illegal, the roads lit up by street lights and headlights. Then went with an attractive biker to the Motel 7 he is currently staying at. A person in my state honestly shouldn't be driving.

I probably had too much to drink.

  Completely worried even though I only had half a glass of a Shirley temple and a few sips of beer. That honestly shouldn't mess me up in any way. I don't feel as though it did, but I will wake up to the consequences of tonight. I for sure know the pain of drinking, after the age of twenty-one it starts to affect us even more. As soon as I get home, I stumble out of my car, nervous that someone from our gated community is going to call on me.

Everyone always calls me a lightweight when it comes to drinking. But I have always been clumsy in the dark. Walking inside my house is dark, so I can strip out the slightly sweaty club clothes from tonight. Putting on some simple trashy clothes, I throw them on to walk around the house. I force myself to eat some precut vegetables and then I reach into my fridge to grab a bottle of water. Opening it, I walk to my bedroom kicking off my boots on the way, I place my bottle on my bedside table. Earlier I had forgotten to check the mail, so I go and walk quickly outside to the mailbox. The hand-painted mailbox has a pair of doves painted on it along with my brother's handprints from when they were younger.

I look around the whole neighborhood, noticing my neighbor's lights on at this time of night. It is pretty late, the air is cool and crisp. As cool as it can be toward the end of summer in Phoenix.

I walk a bit closer to his gorgeous house. My house puts his home to shame, his house is more modern and he doesn't have a roof that needs to be fixed and mismatched curtains.

Walking right to the edge of my plants, right where he has his elegant black fence. I look for his truck in the driveway, that is where my good looking neighbor parks his truck every day. I see a mask similar to the ones we all wore to the bar on the ground, maybe I dropped mine I think as I go to pick it up.

Remembering it is on the floor of my car, he must have been there too, perhaps Blade knows the mystery man, he is British as well. He has occupied that home there for at least three years. He lived here when I moved in. But we have only ever said a few words here and there. The one time we talked was about him being adopted and it was at a neighborhood garage sale I can't say no to a good sale these days.

I have my reasons to keep to myself. Work keeps me busy most of the time.

Bending over to pick up the mask. It is too dark to see what it looks like. I can sort of feel the details with my hands. It's very high-quality silk, ours were most likely from a party city so they were cheaper.

Blade seems like a fine man, so I am going to ring the doorbell and give it to him, but maybe I should tomorrow. But then I will forget. I am normally a forgetful person.

But Blade is a different type of person. He has shoulder-length hair and is tall, probably around 6'5, lean, and has impressive arms. Well, he is a very fine man, he takes care of himself and even goes on shirtless runs. Sometimes, while reading a book I observe those. Not like a creepy stalkers, but I do take a peek.

I walk up to the door and for a second I am hesitant to ring the doorbell or knock. What could be the harm of knocking? I ask myself and I stand there as confidently as possible, after years of not showing my fear it's easy to put that behind me.

Knock, Knock, Knock, the sounds of my knuckles hitting the door bothers me. Stepping back I wait for a response.

The door is an angel white color with a black handle and doorknob. When the door finally opens in what seems like seconds. I stand there awkwardly with my arms folded over my chest.