Harassenger: Backseat Admirer ✔️

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

I was tempted to let Mick Conrad walk home after the wedding, and I would have every right to. He stuck his nose where it didn't belong, and because of him, I was going to have to go on Della-approved dates. I can't remember the last time I've went on a date. Maybe it was senior year of high school when I was set up by Holt with his football buddy. Turns out, my date was coming out of the closet and really wanted a date with Holt instead. Just my luck. Ugh, I should've never caught that bouquet.

Being the generous, and slightly drunk girl I was, I took Mick home. I promised him I would bring him home, and I didn't want to go back on my word.

Mick lived in an apartment near the hospital, and thankfully so because the street lights were burnt so if it wasn't for the emergency sign, I would been lost.

I parallel parked by his apartment, unlocking the door so he could leave. He opened the door a crack, the crickets and mosquitoes buzzing around the area.

"Thanks for the ride." He said.

"When are you getting your truck back? I know the cops around here are lazy, but they're bound to start wondering why your vehicle was abandoned."

"I'm going back early tomorrow with a new tire. My dad has a spare and I'll drive it to the shop right after." His hand held the door open, tapping it with his nails.

"That's good to hear. Well, goodnight, Mick; it was nice meeting you." It was somewhat the truth. My day with Mick reminded me of chocolate; it was deliciously sweet when you bite into it, but once it sticks around too long you get a bad aftertaste. But somehow, no matter the aftertaste, you're guilty in wanting more.

"Do you want to come in?" He asked, gazing at me from afar.

Some other girl, that I guess was me, but didn't sound like me, answered yes. I don't know what possessed me to say anything. A simple nod would have sufficed.

Mick ran across to open my door, and I held onto the hem of my dress with one hand as I hopped out on my own.

I walked down the pathway, counting the cement blocks as I took big strides toward his steps.

I heard a set of keys dangling as Mick dug in his back pocket. He dropped the keys by accident on the floor and I tried to retrieve them, but once I grabbed them, we knocked heads as he tried to grab them, too. We laughed it off as I handed the keys to him, our hands brushing against each other. A blush crept against the nape of my neck and up toward my rounded cheeks. Good thing it was night time.

Mick unlocked the door and clicked on the light switch.

Leading me in, we walked into the foyer, a crystal chandelier high above on the popcorn ceiling. There were pictures of him and his family, but unlike the smiling, appropriate faces in every picture, Mick chose to make a silly face, or simply give bunny ears to unlucky family members. He was either a goofball or an idiot, or both.

He set his keys onto a metal hanger on the side of the wall and continued down the foyer. We found ourselves in the living room next. It was warm and cozy, with dark red walls and brown, leather furniture, and pillows galore. There was a fireplace by the bay window and a hunter green Browning safe in another corner. It was a pristine place for an apartment its size, and it was clean. It was a contrast to my other friends' homes. Trixie and Holt both had clothes everywhere, on the floor, and maybe even on the ceiling. Let's just say, their homes were worse than Gort's house. To see a guy like Mick take such good care of his home was a nice change.

"You have a lovely home." I admired, taking in the atmosphere.

"Make yourself comfortable. Did you want something to drink? Eat? Although I probably don't have much food; I haven't been shopping in a while. Do you like cookies? I've got chocolate chip. They're my favorite." He was rambling, evidently not used to having unannounced guests over. It was the new for the both of us because I don't usually show up a tight to a stranger's living quarters.

"Really? Mine too. Yes, I'll take some." I was starving, and the food at the wedding wasn't enough.

I followed him into the kitchen, taking a seat one at the island. On the table was a couple of fruit, stale bread, and a couple of cooking utensils. There was also a toothpick dispenser with a crank, reminding me of a pencil sharpener. I couldn't help but fiddle with it as I waited.

Like a kid waiting for a midnight snack, I was delighted when a plate of cookies was placed in front of me. I nibbled on the cookie, letting the melt goodness desolve in my mouth. I gulped two cookies down in a split second, forgetting that Mick was in the room. He was observing me, his elbows on the table and his hands in a ball.

"Haven't you ever seen a girl eat a cookie before?" I asked, cocking my head to one side.

"Not so vigorously." He retorted.

"Well, enjoy. I'll probably be scarfing down more of these." I smiled cheekily.

"Who said you could have more? I'm not going to get rid of you at this rate." He smirked.

"Hey, I know where I'm not wanted and you, sir, love my company." I said through bites of food.

"You're not so bad to be around." He admitted.

"I wish I could say the same." Not that he'd believe me. I wish I believed myself.

"You sure have a smart mouth on you, Natalie Fisher. You're not like most girls around Salty Edge." A compliment and an insult rolled into one statement. He was good.

"What would be the fun in being like someone else?" I finished the last cookie and slid my plate across the island. I needed something to drink to wash it down, but I really didn't want to intrude. It was time for me to go.

"You're leaving? Let me walk you out." He offered, or more like declared.

"Yes, it's getting late and I have work tomorrow." I explained truthfully.

"Where do you work?" He asked, walking me to the door with his hand on my back. The thin fabric of my dress caused me to feel bare when he touched me, goosebumps troubling me as I walked.

"The gym." I mumbled.

"I've never been there. I work out at home."

"Oh, well my mother owns the gym. It's actually a two story building. The bottom is for the gym and the top is for our house. It was my father's idea." It was his idea, but after passing away, my mother took it over.

"Nice. Maybe I'll check it out."

So he wants to hang out again?

"Okay." I walked out into the Florida heat alone and suddenly felt cold without his touch. It was unsettling.

I took one last look around, waving goodbye to the man who was no longer a stranger.