All around me the house made weird noises. I pulled the comforter all the way up to my chin. Why had I not noticed these noises before tonight? I’d grown used to the quiet that comes with living outside of town. When it was only my mother and me and her endless string of men we’d lived in a large city. It was never quiet and the noise of the city never bothered me. Three and a half months of living at Mr. Cole’s and I’d been spoiled.
My cell phone vibrated. I eagerly picked it up.
Tyson: I’ll be there in a minute. Meet me at the front door.
I stared down at the illuminated screen, unable to comprehend what I’d read. He’d meet me at the front door… To Mr. Cole’s house? It was after one in the morning. Why in the world would he be coming over here? I should never have texted him.
I must have stared at nothing for too long because the next thing I knew the doorbell was going off.
I jerked to life and tossed the covers off of me. I left the phone on my bed and made my way towards the front door.
I stood in front of the door with my palms pressed flat against it and my eyes wide open and looking out the peep hole. My right arm slid out to the side as I searched for the porch light. I found it and flicked the light switch up, turning it on.
Tyson stood before me, only a door between us and an empty house surrounding me. His long hair was pulled back into a pony tail at the back of his head. He had on grey pajama pants and a black V-neck t-shirt. He had his arms crossed over his chest and his feet were bare. And he was at my door. At one in the morning.
Dare I open the door and let him in?
I couldn’t not let him in. I unlocked the door and opened it. Immediately the alarm on the wall started beeping at me. Without greeting him, I rushed to the wall and punched in the code to make the beeping stop. The door clicked shut behind me.
“Will you lock it please?” I asked over my shoulder, not wanting to move away from the alarm. The thing freaked me out a little. It was on a timer and if you didn’t get the code punched in a very small amount of time the security company called and the police came. I heard the lock click and I re-armed the alarm.
Slowly, I turned around and faced him.
“What are you doing here?” I asked quietly.
“You sounded like you could use the company.” He shrugged as he slid his hands in to the front pockets of his pajama pants.
“It’s late,” I told him like he didn’t already know.
“Technically, it’s early.” He smiled with teeth, blinding me.
“Whatever,” I muttered around my own smile. Mr. Cole had not said anything about having boys over late at night, just no parties.
“Do you have Netflix?” He asked.
I nodded. “On my computer. I think the tv’s down here probably have all that stuff on them, but I’ve never used one of them before.”
“Alright,” he pulle
d a hand free of his pocket and waved towards the stairs. “Lead the way.”
Lead the way, he says. Upstairs. Where my computer is. In my bedroom. Suddenly this didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore. My stomach knotted painfully and my fingers twitched at my side as I fought the urge to run my hand across the back of my neck in a nervous habit.
I skirted around him and headed up the stairs. He followed closely behind me.
The house was dark and my bedroom was no different.
My laptop sat closed on the window seat. Tyson spotted it and headed right towards it. He sat down on the window seat and scooted over so he was beside the window. He sat forward and stuffed a bunch of my bright, girly pillows behind his back. His long legs stretched out in front of him and were crossed at the ankles. He looked entirely at ease in my bedroom.
He looked up and spotted me hovering in the doorway, uncertain. His face softened as the right corner of his mouth twitched up. He patted the seat beside him, inviting me to come and sit beside him. I licked my dry lips nervously, still hovering in the doorway. I thought about slowly backing away and running off to hide somewhere in the bowels of the house where he wouldn’t find me but stopped myself from taking the first step backwards when somewhere downstairs something creaked loudly.
Thankfully I didn’t let out any embarrassing noises, but I did practically sprint across my room to the window seat. He eyed me curiously as he sat my laptop down on his lap and lifted the top. While he was opening up Netflix on my computer I got up and raced back to the door. I shut it and locked it before heading to my bed. I dragged my pretty comforter off and hauled it over to the window seat. I plopped down next to him and dragged the blanket over me. I caught him watching me intently so I lifted up the blanket in a silent question, asking him if he wanted me to cover him up too. He took the corner of the blanket with one hand while lifting my laptop off his lap with the other. He pulled the blanket over him, covering up his lap and his legs. When he had the blanket situated how he wanted it he sat the laptop back on his lap and leaned back against his massive pile of girly pillows. I pulled the blanket up to my chin and curled up on my side, facing him.
He was messing around on my laptop, not looking at me, when he asked, “Why’d you lock your door when we’re the only one’s here?”
“Habit,” I mumbled. A habit born out of necessity. I hoped he left it alone at that because I really didn’t feel like answering his nosy questions at the moment.
Surprisingly, he let it go. “Do you like Friday Night Lights?”