The Rendezvous // Thomas Sangster

Grumpy Beginnings

I'm awoken the next morning, by a loud rapping on my trailers door. I groan, loudly, sitting up quickly and scowling at the door. I glance at my clock, finding it to only be eight o'clock in the morning.

What kind of terrible human being wakes someone up at eight in the morning? Who has that strong of a death wish? Who really wants to be pushed in front of a moving car?

Whoever is at my door knocks again, this time louder.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" I yell, not bothering to hide the annoyance in my raspy, morning voice.

I roll out of bed, giving myself a once over to make sure it's safe for human eyes to befall upon my presence. I wouldn't want anyone's eyeballs to instantaneously incinerate because they had the misfortune to see me first thing in the morning.

I step over to the front door, nearly tripping over Red, who is trying to fall back asleep. Apparently, the incessant knocking even woke up my half deaf dog.

"Red, could you not lay right in the middle of the pathway?" I grumble, nudging him away with my foot.

Finally, I answer the door, surprised to see a tall man with unruly sandy blonde hair that sticks up in every direction. Not in the fashionable way that men wear nowadays, but in a way that showed he legitimately did not care. His eyes are brown, like warm cocoa, but the emotion in them contains none of the same warmth. His jaw is clenched firmly, and an annoyed expression is set upon his features. We both stare at each other for a few seconds before I speak, "Hello."

"Hi." He responds, shortly, looking a little impatient. I'm taken aback by his sharp tone. He continues, "I'm the camp manager here, Thomas Sangster. I was just wondering if you could keep the noise level to a minimum. There are other people in this camp ground."

My eyebrows furrow and my face twists into a look of confusion, "What?"

"Noise. Keep it down." He repeats, "We try to maintain a peaceful setting here."

I blush. Oh, no! Was I snoring? Did someone hear me from a couple sites away and complain? I didn't think I snored. I wouldn't know.

I stutter, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks, "I...I didn't realize I was making any noise."

"You weren't." Thomas says, his patience seeming to becoming thinner and thinner. "Yet. It's for future reference."

I frown yet again, craning my neck to look at him, "What?"

"Look, you have a dog. Dogs bark."

"My dog is like twenty years old and he sleeps most of the time. I think that was hardly necessary." I say, crossing my arms.

"Yeah, well." He snaps.

I frown, "Look, I don't know why you're being so harsh, but-"

He interrupts me, giving me a up and down glance, "Are you even old enough to be renting a camp site?"

I glare. I am well aware that I look much younger than I am. I am flat chested, skinny, short, and I have a round baby face. It wasn't something I admired about myself, but still, it was something I had to deal with on a daily basis. I didn't love looking like I was sixteen; in fact, it often made my life difficult. I absolutely despised how ridiculously small I was, and what I hated even more, was that I couldn't do anything about it.

I snap back, "Of course I am, didn't you read my paperwork before you came to be a critical jackwang? I'm twenty one."

"Oh, jackwang. Ouch. I'm wounded." He rolls his eyes.

I feel myself beginning to fume, "What-"

"Just keep the noise level down." He snaps one last time, before he turns on his heel and marches back in the direction of the office.