10 Days [Brallon]

You May Hope

A week after I'd learned his name, I also learned that the upcoming Saturday was officially the day when I could live in my new house, coincidentally down the street from the guy who'd been trying to throw hatred themed flowers through an exes bedroom window. It wasn't my business on what he did with his free time, but I just really hoped I didn't get sued because of his brilliant decisions.

But I mean, his friend was gonna be a lawyer. A very biased lawyer, but you get what you get.

When said Saturday arrived, I closed down the shop and took some time to expand the social life I never really had in the first place. Well that's what Saturdays are for. To work on that stuff like a responsible person. Which I am not.

So I sat on the sad little curb out front of the house under the equally sad sign that read "Rose Leaf Avenue" (which, ironically, rose leaves means "you may hope"), staring at the pebbles in the road and past the other houses to my left. I think that's Brendon's home down there, to the right of Ryan's which I suppose has to be next to him on the left side.

Someone yelled down the street, and a door slammed closed. Two guys ran out, one of them I assumed was Brendon from the shirt and the fluffy hair, the other probably the famed cheater Ryan, since they were both screaming profanities and insults at each other from the top of their lungs.

Well, I was right about their living positions. Not bad, considering I'd found the neighborhood housing setup in the glamorous moving process, stuck under a leaking lava lamp Tyler had gotten me as an apartment warming gift (which was more of a "thanks for paying 2/3 the rent" present). Not that I was complaining that the paper was ruined, because there was a 100% chance I'd never communicate with the people living around me. Like, ever.

They started fighting over towards my direction, backing up and shoving each other slightly down the sidewalk. I really hope they don't get closer. I don't want to deal with that this early in the morning.

"Screw you asshole, I hated you anyways!"

"That's not what you said when-"

The moving truck pulled up alongside the curb to my right, temporarily drowning out the argument a couple houses down with a loud screech from the brakes just in time to cover up that last part to Ryan's sentence. Good. I didn't want to hear them yelling at each other right now. It's too early for that.

"Weekes?"

"That's me." I said and two guys slid out of the front seats. Their name tags read Andy and Joe above the company name (which was Two Guys Move You. I swear I've heard that name before but you can't dwell on stupid things like that at a time like this).

After a couple minutes, they'd unloaded the 16 boxes full of my only possessions out in the driveway I'd have to chalk up later. Apparently, they also had another client who was their first priority (no offense, they'd said. Offense partially received).

So there I was, in front of a new house I'm not sure I  have the right key to, simply 16 boxes full of the things I owned, and a couple homes down from a heated argument between 2 former partners.

Not even a full year ago I had just opened that tiny little shop on Main Street and now here I am, one shared apartment to house upgrade and no college acceptance letter responses later. Maybe I shouldn't have been so ambitious and bought a house.

One of the only achievements I'd accomplished lately was getting a solid 5 stars and 88 positive reviews on that one website that everyone but me was on nowadays. The other great accomplishments included figuring out the different washing machine cycles and learning how to make lasagna from scratch.

The lasagna was just as terrible as it had been before, when I'd make it from expired boxed powder that had been sitting around for way too long, but I never said it was a good accomplishment. At least I wouldn't starve to death in the zombie apocalypse. If it really came down to it, I could probably poison somebody with it too.

The interior to the house wasn't as bad as I remembered it to be after I first checked it out. Someone must've painted over the chipped paint covering over the wall or something, because the nasty crusty looking mustard yellow had been replaced with a really pretty ocean blue. The ceiling fan had been ripped out, countertops caked with dust and other things I didn't want to investigate.

But I guess now it was home. It just needed a lot of restoration. 'And love,' as Patrick would've said, 'a fuck ton of love that you don't possess.'

Just as I came up with that single positive thought, the one working light downstairs shorted out.

Maybe it needed to be fixed up more than I'd anticipated. But that's alright, I guess. It was better this place than Patrick and Tyler's apartment with a clogged toilet and a ceiling so low the pancakes still stuck to it whenever someone tried to flip them.

All my stuff hadn't even been delivered yet either. The couch and television I had bought had yet to be removed from the old apartment, as did my bed and whatever else I'd left behind until I felt like going to steal them back from Tyler and Patrick. After all, I had payed for most of the furniture in that apartment.

I was just about to start unpacking the box full of the books I owned when my backpack started buzzing like it was being possessed by an angry hive full of bumblebees.

The caller ID on my phone screamed Tyler and I had no choice but to pick up the first time, otherwise he'd keep dialing my number until I answered. Typical.

"Why-"

"I talked to Josh." He blurted out and giggled like a kid afterwards.

"How'd it go? What'd he say?" I was surprised he'd gotten up the nerve to do so, let alone assume he'd given him the flower too.

"He knew what the flower meant," he sighed dreamily "he said that his friend is studying to be a botanist and had recently reviewed some stuff with him to practice-"

Tyler stopped talking in the middle of the sentence and I could've sworn I heard a smile spread across his face through the other end of the phone.

"His friend is that guy you've been talking to."

My heart dropped. Not exactly the bad kind of drop, but like when you're going down a roller coaster and the cart rockets down the biggest dip at like a zillion miles a second and you're basically floating the entire way down and having the time of your life. It was that type of drop.

"Brendon? He wants to be a botanist?" As soon as the words left my lips, I couldn't believe it. He didn't seem like a guy that would be into something like plants.

"Yeah! Did you know he has a motorcycle too? He and Josh are like best friends!"

As if on cue, the engine to a motorcycle hummed to life and sped off down the street and raced out front of my house. I assumed that was him.

"You're not pulling my leg, are you?"

"I wish. This would be like, the prank of the century."

I groaned and hid my face in my free hand. "Tyler, that's not a good thing. None of this is a good thing."

"You're just upset I talked to Josh and found out more about Brendon than you have so far." I could practically hear him sticking his tongue out at me through the phone.

"As if I would be jealous of a mailman."

"As if I would be jealous of a florist."