CHAPTER SIX: THE STRANGER

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I nervously tap my finger on the side of my hip. There's probably a whole lesson in schools about not going to stranger's houses that you've had a total of maybe five phone calls with. Or ones that you don't know their last name, what they do for living or why he needs you to work for him in the first place, but what can I say? That's exactly what I'm going to do.

I knock on the door that is painted an ugly shade of gray. No answer.

Maybe that's for the best. Maybe I should turn around. I mean, I don't even know Nick, yet I'm so trusting with accepting jobs and coming over to his house.

The door has paint chipped and is worn from age. I wonder if the color was always that gross, or did it used to be a decent color? I can't even think about the other option that at one point it was uglier, and it aged like fine wine to become this monstrosity.

I knock on the door again. After a few moments of no answer, I dig into my bag to find my phone. Am I at the right house? If you're freaking out from something not working out, then shouldn't you actually answer the door to work on it?

The address Nick sent me lines up perfectly with this house. My finger hovers over the call button before the door swings open.

The person in front of me is a perfect mash between what I didn't think Nick would look like and exactly what I thought he would look like.

He's wearing sweat-shorts and a black shirt. He smiles a bit as he opens the door just a bit wider. Nothing about him screams serial killer, so I'm going to say it's safe. The only thing I would be vaguely concerned about from appearance is the fact that he's wearing a hat inside while the sun is setting, but to each their own I guess.

"Hey." His voice sounds similar than the one from the phone. I'll take the lack of drastic change as a good thing.

"Hi," I say so softly that I don't think he could have possibly heard me. An awkward quiet falls around us for a moment.

"You are y/n, right?" he asks slowly after neither of us spoke up.

A breath of relief flows out of me. "Yes, Nick?"

His smile grows wider and he laughs. "Come on in."

I walk into the house. To my left there is a small living room and kitchen. There is nothing but an empty wall to my right. The house is pretty dim. There is a single light on in the kitchen to light up the area. It smells like musk covered in Febreze. At least there's an effort, I guess. I wonder what my apartment smells like when people first enter.

"Sorry for the wait," Nick says as he closes the ugly outside door behind him. "I was upstairs."

"It's alright. I was just worried I had the wrong house." I laugh to try to ease the tension.

"Nope, you're in the right spot," he says, turning to go up the stairs, "We can work in my room. It'll be a little quieter."

I nod. What does he mean by quiet? The house seems pretty dead quiet down here.

I follow him up the stairs, noticing a hallway leading off the kitchen. It must be a bigger house than it seems.

Nick leads me down a straight hallway upstairs to the last door on the right. I walked into the room and understood why he wanted to work up here.

The room is pretty clean. Not super 'oh I'm a clean person' kind of clean, but an 'I have someone coming over let's quickly put some stuff away' kind of clean. The bare walls have a single flag above the bed. The bed is messily made, but made nonetheless.

I put my keys down by his desk, which looks like someone tried to make it organized.

"You can sit in the chair or the bed or the floor." Nick gestures to any surface in his room that he can. "Anywhere you wish."

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