Odd One Out | Jacob Black

3.

I glared at the book in front of me while a half complete cross stitch sat on my lap. I had messed up somewhere but couldn't figure out where. One of my little trees was going a little sideways.

Was it probably because I got distracted watching the trashy reality tv show playing on the tv? Most likely.

"Nat!"

I nearly jumped out of my skin and looked towards my door. Since when was dad home on a random Tuesday? I slowly got up and opened the door to the empty hallway?

"Yes?" I said probably too quiet for him to hear.

"Natasha!" He yelled again and I winced at his volume.

I made my way down the stairs to see my dad holding a bottle of what looked like whiskey.

"Here." He shoved the bottle at me. "I need you to do me a favor."

"Uh," I scrambled to not drop the bottle. The only whiskey I really knew was Jack Daniels and that's only because it's Jeremy's go to drink of choice. This looked much fancier.

"I need you to drop this off at Billy Black's house."

"Uh...why?" All I wanted was to get back to my crooked little tree.

"It's a thank you gift. And it's nicer coming from a sweet little girl than an asshole like me." He frowned.

"Uh...I don't think I should—"

"Nat." He glared and I knew this was a losing battle.

"But I don't even know where he lives." I tried to argue.

"Off the main drag. It's a little red piece of shit. You can't miss it." Because that was helpful, I wanted to roll my eyes. "Thanks sweetheart."

I so badly wanted to argue that it was the middle of the day and I was doing school work. Even though that was a lie. And besides, what if Mr. Black was at work or something. Or what if I went to the wrong house? His directions weren't exactly clear and the thought of knocking on the wrong door was mortifying. For once, I wished Brady was home and not at school. I'm sure he'd know where to go.

I went back upstairs to change into leggings and just a plain black hoodie. I glared at the bottle that I set on my desk. What a stupid gift.

After grabbing my jacket and making my way to my car I thought about texting Brady anyway but I had a feeling he wouldn't respond. And that's assuming he didn't have me blocked or something.

After a very uncomfortable trip down the main drag, one U-turn and driving 10 miles under the speed limit, I think I finally found the place. It was a cute little red house with a very larger garage on the side. There were two cars parked in front of the main house and what looked like a very beat up motorbike in front of the garage. I parked next to a truck and took a deep breath, praying this was the correct place.

My anxiety didn't even have a chance to settle before someone was poking their head out of the garage. Please be right. Please be right. Please be right.

I got out of the car just as the girl was walking back into the garage saying something. A few seconds later a different man came out, whipping his hands on a very dirty rag.

And what a man he was.

Holy smokes.

"Hey." He said and I could instantly feel my face heating up. "Can I help—" and he stuttered and stopped. And it seemed like everything stopped.

I blinked and tried to gather my thoughts back up. Why was I here?

The man in front of me coughed and seemed caught off guard. "Uh, hi. Sorry. Can I help you?"