Better Sorry than Safe

19.

Ridge street, nr. 61. 

Sem checked the address Connor had given him for the millionth time. Yup, this was definitely the place. Connor had described his building as the tallest one adjacent to the hospital, can't miss it, and he was right.

Sem peered into the window at the entrance of the building, and quickly fixed his wind tousled hair. Then, he finally pressed the doorbell next to the number 61. There was an electronic ringing sound. Okay, deep breaths, don't panic.  

He definitely should've asked for more information before stepping on his bike. Was this Connor's dorm room, or his parental house? If it was his parental house, would his parents be home? Was he supposed to have brought flowers or chocolates for Connor's mom? Well, too late to arrange it now, idiot. He was completely flying blind here, and that definitely had him on edge. 

The intercom clicked. 

"Hey Sem, come on up. I'm on the fifth floor," Connor's voice sounded through the small device, and the automatic door swung open.

"Hey! Gotcha. On my way."

Sem stepped inside the rather generic lobby, with mailboxes on one side, and a large notice board behind cracked glass on the other. He ignored the elevator, instead running up the first flight of stairs. Hopefully, a bit of movement on the way would help shake some of the nerves. 

He and Connor had briefly touched on Connor not having siblings, but somehow, Sem had never got to asking about his parents. Oh God, if his parents were ridiculously gorgeous, quiet and super smart like Connor, he was going to shit bricks. He'd somehow screw up and they'd hate his guts, guaranteed. He was so much better at entertaining talkative and superficial people. 

But then again, maybe this was only Connor's dorm. There was trash on the staircases; crumpled soda cans and food wrappers, there were unidentified stains on the floor, and the walls were chipping off in some corners. The state this building was in didn't give off a nice family home feeling. 

Whatever the place was, dorm or parental house, the ten stairways he had to traverse were far too short. Before he knew it, Sem found himself standing in front of apartment number 61, and his stomach was churning. So much for taming those nerves. 

The blue, and recently painted front door was suddenly very interesting. Had to be, as he spent about a minute staring at it. Sem was still mustering up courage to reach for the doorbell and get it over with, when the door suddenly opened.

Connor's face appeared in the door opening. He blinked in surprise when he found Sem already standing on the doorstep. "Oh, hey. I was about to go check where you were."

"Hi," Sem breathed, feeling not that much unlike a deer in the headlights, "Uh, I took the stairs. Might've taken me a bit longer, I practiced kicks this afternoon."

"Okay. Well... Welcome." 

Connor stepped aside, and Sem entered the narrow hallway. He hung his jacket on the coat rack, while his eyes darted to the door he guessed lead to the living room.

"Is anyone else here?"

"No," Connor replied. "Mom is working the nightshift. She's a nurse."

Sem held back a sigh in relief. So this was his parental house after all, but he didn't have to worry about his lack of bringing chocolates. 

"I see, what about your dad?" 

Connor cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "He doesn't live here. It's just me and my mom."