Drive By [BoyXBoy]

Home

I got home a little after eight thirty.

I lived in a small, one bedroom basement apartment that I hated.

I hated that someone lived above my head. Hated that I didn't get the front, or back yard. That I had to share a driveway with the couple living upstairs.

Now don't get me wrong. The couple upstairs was great. They'd been married for a year and kept to themselves. But they got a little loud at night.

I walked down the stairs to my front door at the back of the house and threw the keys on the kitchen table when I walked in. The house was dark, but I could see my open concept home perfectly. As soon as you walk in you're in the kitchen, the kitchen table sat to the left of me, the stained oak table had white legs and a matching bench pushed against the wall. To the right was my kitchen set. A total of five counter tops, one that held a sink with a great view of the window that showed the driveway and the house next door. The fridge was at the end next to the corner counter with a stove beside that. The counters were oak as well, new and spotless.

Walking further into the house I huffed and laid on the couch. It was a white leather but I covered it with a fuzzy black blanket so my sink wouldn't stick to it during the heat waves.

During the day I had hadn't stopped thinking about him. About the way he smiled when he laughed, how his voice sounded. I hated that I couldn't hear it anymore. And I wondered.

Did he notice me? Did he know who I was? Did he think of me as much as I think of him?

All of that raced through my mind as I laid on my couch flipping through random TV channels. And they still played in my mind as my eyes slowly drifted to a close, and my thoughts still played, taunting me for having a stupid crush on the man in the stupid red ford.