The last thing the town of Weaver expects is another white guy. Yet, here comes Jackson.
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To Dani, one thing was clear, the other white guy had every intention to leave the town of Weaver from the moment he...
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"So, you heard about Camille?"
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"Markey!"
Like a shrill bell Dani's voice carried across the yard. It was a contrast to her usual tone; calm and collected in an almost drawl. But now she was desperate- not really but lazy more like- not wanting to leave the confines of her home, to walk and exhaust her energy in order to get the boy she wanted to talk to.
Well wanted was a stretch but so be it.
Her chest pushed outwards as her lungs filled with air and her hands gripped tighter onto the ledge that bordered her veranda.
"Markey!" She called again and when there was no response she tried a little louder and switched to his actual name, "Marcel!!"
She swore he would respond then, but the reaction was the same. Nothing. His house remained quiet as if no one was even in there. But she was sure that they were, for the Gregory's never went anywhere but church on a Sunday.
That's when her own mother's voice startled her from inside, "Danielle! Stop the yapping, are you tryna wake up the whole neighborhood?"
Turning to face her own house Dani directed her next shout to her mother, "It's three pm Ma, ain't nobody should be asleep!"
Her mother's voice came again, hoarse and powerful in the way it always sounded, "I'm saying this as politely as I can Danielle, shut the hell up!"
Dani pouted for a bit before whispering to herself, "And that is where I get my politeness from...."
"What you just said!"
"Nothing mother."
And in that moment Marcel actually answered from the house beside her own. "What!"
Finally, she thought. Her eyes darted over to his lawn that was aligned to her own. By the rose bushes he stood, arms akimbo and a tight scowl on his face to show that he wasn't pleased with her calling his name.
Dani didn't care for his anger towards her and she tried not to care about the fact that he was shirtless. And sweating. In fact, she blatantly ignored the fact that he was somehow dripping in sweat and stared him dead in the eye as if she hadn't even noticed that he lacked a shirt.
"Where the hell have you been?" She asked.
His expression proved that he would reply in a duh tone, "In my house."
"And you didn't hear me calling you?" She prodded.
He stared at her. Slowly his eyes took a new light and she knew what he was about to say before he could.
