indie » styles

first

day the first

the day he came was something wren would never forget. no matter how hard she tried, the image of a rusted truck barreling down the road would never leave her mind.

**

There was a house across the street which had been unoccupied for years. Its previous owners were a young couple whose dreams faded when the husband ran away to Iceland with his secretary. It didn't take long for the newly divorced woman to sell her home and move away; hopeful to start over. Thus, the house became abandoned, only growing worse in condition as the years dragged on. It was in need of serious repairs and no one had come to even look at the ghost home. To Wren, the house looked lonely. Its pale yellow paint was peeling and there were vines creeping around the door frame.

That's why, on a dreary Tuesday evening, Wren was surprised to see a red Toyota make a sharp turn into the gravel driveway. She was on her way to meet friends at the movies and was already running a bit late when she stopped to watch a boy step out of the vehicle.

Wren couldn't help but notice how odd he dressed. She was used to the adolescent boys at her school who wore wrinkled clothing plastered with sports logos. This was quite contrary to the stranger's ratty flannel and frayed jeans containing large holes in the knees. A pink bandanna pushed back his mess of curly hair.

He wore sunglasses despite the fact the sky was gray and there was no sign the clouds would break. It wasn't until the boy turned around that Wren averted her gaze, not wanting to be coined as the creepy neighbor. She fled to her car, worn-out sneakers scuffing against the concrete.

Wren started the engine and backed out into the driveway, refusing to cast another glance at the lonely house's new inhabitant.

**

Wren swallowed and made her way up the steps, a bag of stale, store-bought cookies were pressed to her chest.

Her mother had shoved them into her arms and told her to give them to their new neighbor. Wren knew better than to argue with her mother, especially when she was working overtime and had already taken out a bottle of wine.

Hesitating momentarily, Wren slowly rang the doorbell. After minutes passed and no one came to let her in, she debated leaving the cookies on the porch and running home.

Just as she was about to follow through with her plan, the door opened.

Her eyes met a shade of electric green, amber flakes swimming in emerald. The boy was about six foot with a pair of cupid bow lips that were pulled into an amused grin. His curls were messily kept, tumbling across his forehead.

Wren couldn't breathe. it was as if the boy had stolen all the oxygen from the air like a thief.

"Hello." His voice was soft. A small breeze brought a whiff of vanilla and sandalwood, an intoxicating scent that seemed to match the stranger perfectly.

"I'm your new neighbor," she said, finally finding her words.

"That's a nice name, I'm Harry," he chuckled lowly at his own joke, eyes flicking down to her chest. "Are those mine?"

Wren was confused for a moment. "Excuse me?"

"Did you buy those cookies for me? Or are you just here to taunt me with them?" He grinned sheepishly.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry." She quickly handed him the bag, feeling her cheeks begin to burn. There was an awkward silence that followed, only the soft lull of crickets to fill the air.

"Well, I should really get back to unpacking. Thank you for the cookies." Harry finally said, holding up the bag and giving her one last beautiful smile.

"You might want to get some new jeans. Yours look like they're coming apart." Wren blurted, once again feeling her face grow warm. She looked down at the green and white paint stains on the denim fabric, something she hadn't noticed earlier in the day

"Why would I want to get a new pair?" He raised a single eyebrow in questioning. "These jeans are incredibly indie."

"Indie?" Wren had never heard someone describe something as 'indie.' She didn't think it was even a way to describe something at all.

"Yes, indie. Is that a problem?" His voice wasn't at all unfriendly, if anything, the boy was just amused.

"No, not at all. I'll let you unpack, sorry." Wren mumbled, desperate to get away from the entrancing boy and his crooked smile.

"It was lovely meeting you, your new neighbor." He flashed his prominent dimples with another laugh and slowly closed the door.

Wren stood on the doorstep frozen, running over the conversation in her mind and mentally cursing herself. Why did she feel the need to comment on his stupid pants? It was inevitable that now he would see her as the neighborhood freak.

She sprinted back home, leaving the pale yellow house behind her and vowing to avoid the green-eyed stranger at all costs.

****

this probably sucks but whatever, its late and i have to get my beauty's rest, cause boy do i need it.

stay fabdabulous children,

--joy