The initial building we encountered after passing the vacant lot was his house, situated on the right-hand side. It had caught my attention before from the vantage point of my bedroom window. This single-story dwelling boasted a brick exterior, adhering to the ranch-style architectural design, and featured a finished space above its two-car garage. One of the garage doors stood open, revealing a vehicle parked inside, while another car occupied a corner of the broad driveway toward the rear. As we entered the garage, a motion-sensitive light illuminated the area, exposing him clad in a green poncho, its hood obscuring much of his face. The sight was eerie enough to provoke thoughts of fleeing if encountered in the dark. Considering the circumstances, I pondered the wisdom of trailing him into his abode. His dog trailed behind us, settling beside a crate propped against the wall, patiently awaiting our next move. In the dimness, the canine appeared formidable, emitting the scent of damp fur that tickled my nose.
"Later, buddy," he dismissed the dog with a wave, prompting it to lower its head onto its paw. With a press of a button, he initiated the closure of the garage door, plunging us further into darkness until it enveloped me completely.
"Let's go," he urged, grasping my uninjured arm and guiding me inside. I stumbled in his wake as we traversed a brief hallway with wooden flooring underfoot. The interior of the house remained dim, and I trailed closely behind, wary of losing my bearings. A glimpse of a dining area caught my eye before he veered left toward the hallway's end, revealing a stairwell adorned with light blue carpeting. A faint glow emanated from somewhere above as he ascended the steps. Uncertain whether to follow, I hesitated momentarily, fearful of encountering others downstairs. The notion of being alone in the house also unnerved me. Steeling myself, I trailed after him.
The spacious bedroom atop the garage greeted us upon reaching the upper level. An open doorway to the left led to a compact bathroom, while a closed door adjacent hinted at a closet. Windows overlooked both the driveway and the street, offering ample natural light. A bench seat by the front window featured neatly embroidered pillows in the corners, while a bed was positioned against another window, leaving a sizable expanse of space in the center. A computer desk occupied the far corner, accompanied by a turned-off monitor and a small bookshelf. A brass lamp emitted a soft glow atop the desk, which brightened as he adjusted it. Turning toward me, his black-rimmed glasses adorned with dewdrops partially obscured his eyes, concealing his high cheekbones. Light brown hair clung to his forehead and ears, suggesting a youthful appearance, perhaps a few years older than myself. Towering over me with a medium build and fair complexion, he exuded an air of confidence, accentuated by the subtle arch of his brows that conveyed perpetual curiosity. His attire, marked by a Nike swoosh on the poncho and pristine black Converse shoes, might have elicited a dismissive label from my older sister. However, what struck me most was the warmth of his kind smile, instantly melting my apprehensions. Blushing under his scrutiny, I couldn't help but feel like a disheveled mess. My dark blond hair, haphazardly secured in a clip, tumbled around my neck, while the chill of the night had likely turned my small nose a rosy hue. Bloodshot eyes and heavy bags likely betrayed my fatigue, contrasting starkly with his composed demeanor. Clad in damp jeans and worn Sketcher sneakers, I felt far from presentable.
"I'm really sorry," I apologized, glancing down at my dripping shoes. "I didn't realize how wet they were until I stepped inside."
"Don't worry about the carpet," he reassured me, placing my bag next to his desk before heading towards the bathroom door.
"Let's get that poncho off and take a look at your arm," he suggested, motioning for me to follow. I peeled off the clingy poncho, struggling a bit as the fabric stuck to my skin like glue. Underneath, my green t-shirt seemed to have become one with my body, leaving little to the imagination. I attempted to adjust it discreetly, but the fabric stubbornly clung to me.
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Shadows and Secrets: The Academy Chronicles
قصص المراهقينThe only thing Ocean craves is a fresh start and to be accepted as ordinary by her peers, because for her being different meant being cast out alone. Ocean yearns for normalcy amidst the shadows of her agoraphobic mother and absentee father. When he...
