Nixon

••• Three •••

The door closes shut as I walk out, taking in a deep breath as I look around the shop. Interviews are never my thing, but I would really enjoy working here. Mama's, a family-owned business for Italian food in the town, and also, one of the best places to eat.

Exciting the shop, I find myself in my car, the radio tuned out as I stare ahead at the windows of the brick building, the rain pouring down as my windshield whippers create a transparent view. I hope I got the job. I used to waitress back in my old city at an Olive Garden. Hitting my head back against the headrest, those midnight blue eyes flood my mind.

It's now the Saturday starting Thanksgiving week, my first semester almost done in my new town. Ever since Halloween I haven't went back to that street or anywhere close, where that man who approached me told me those things. Mr. Maxwell.

Emily warned me to stay away, meaning he's trouble for me. I was dared to go into his house and steal a plate, the group tense and unsure a I took the dare, also hinting that the man within the house was trouble. Yet George called Maxwell an old man, and the body of that man is far from old.

My phone buzzes, and as I answer, I hear Oliver ask me over. I reply with a no, explaining how my parents want me home today, spending time with Taylor and them.

As I return home, I find my night going well as we play board games and laugh. Finishing up a round of Cranium, Taylor brings another bowl of popcorn to the table and we start a new game.

By the next morning I'm up early at six, finishing up some last minute paper to submit online as the shower turns on in Taylor's bathroom. "Another day," I mumble, running my hands over my face.

Last night I set up plans with Emily and Oliver to spend the day out at the park with some other people from the art department to play frisbee golf.
By eight I'm getting dressed, pulling a pair of sweats on and old shirt from Boston. Grabbing my keys, I head out the house, driving off in the direction Emily told me. Once more, those eyes fly through my head, and I find myself remembering those words. Those words of his need, his desires, his thirst that frightens me, yet, deep down, it excites me. His eyes were enchanting, his scent enveloping, and just his whole persona intriguing as I found myself laying awake countless nights wondering what he was up to.

I do that often, zoning out into day dreams about the man whose house I broke into. God, I was so stupid to take that dare. But I didn't want to pass, I didn't want to seem like a chicken, I didn't want to be taken as safety first and obey all the rules.

Arriving at the park, I see the massive hill is surrounded by trees, a small pond at one portion, frisbee golf courses set up in various locations, and my group of friends all gathered by a picnic table as the November air turns colder by the minute. I hop out of my car and stride over, waving at Oliver as he spots me.

There are some familiar faces like George and a girl I played that dare game with, while new faces pop up. In little to no time I've learned three new names as we sit at the table, waiting two more guys. "Where is he?" Emily mutters, letting her head fall back for a dramatic display.

Just then, another car pulls into the lot, a truck, and two guys hop out. One is shorter, the driver, with black hair and green eyes, while the other, I could get used to someone like him. Sandy blond hair a bit messy from the wind, bright brown eyes like honey, average height, toned very nicely, and fits the description the boy next door you'd want to introduce to your parents at first chance.

"Brody, what took so long?" Oliver asks as green-eyes shrugs.

"I believe Terrance here took too long to wake up."

Terrance. Fits him well.

Once the two new guys join in, we begin our game, splitting to begin the competition.