Crazy Enough...

Chapter 2

After I had finally recovered from my traumatic first impression with Toby, I was ready to begin unpacking. Toby's family, the Katorin's, had offered to help us unpack, and Dad of course accepted. I, for one, didn't want to embarrass myself in front of them anymore, so after I had the movers bring everything into my room, I shut the door and didn't ask for help from anyone. Now, however, I was faced with another problem, I had to not only unpack, but also assemble all my furniture completely alone.

I had gotten the bed, desk, and bookshelf together after about two and a half hours. I had also gotten the mattress into the bed frame when I heard a knock on my door. I stood up from my pile of boxes that I needed to unpack and walked over to the door. My hand hesitated at the doorknob for a moment, before I opened the door. Toby stood on the other side of the door, staring at his shoes. He looked up and his golden hazel eyes glistened like they were filled full to the brim with tiny little topazes and citrines. His hand moved upward and flicked his dark black-brown hair away from his eyes. I could imagine a picture of what we looked like standing there in my doorway. He looked mesmerizing, even in jeans and a simple t-shirt. I, however, looked like a mess. My jet-black hair was pulled up into a messy bun, though not like the ones you see on Instagram, this messy bun was more of a bun that was falling apart. I was wearing sweatpants and a baggy sweater. I probably looked like a mess, much like my room.

"I, uh, I came to help you unpack," he spoke softly, almost as if he was ashamed of something.

"Oh, okay. I kind of haven't really 'unpacked' per say, I've mostly just been assembling furniture. But, I mean, I could probably use your help," I turned and motioned for him to enter the room. He stepped in about seven feet and then took it all in. I was glad he hadn't mentioned me falling down the stairs. Then without saying a word, we started getting everything unpacked. We didn't talk much at first, it was more just me telling him where to put things. After an hour or so, we started having a real conversation.

"So, where'd you move from?" Toby looked up front putting my books on the bookshelf and I once again saw his dazzling eyes.

"The uh, west coast. It was a small town, you've probably never heard of it."

"That's what I always say whenever someone asks me where I'm from. Do you move often?"

"Often enough. The longest we ever stayed anywhere was two years. The last place we were only in for three months."

"Well, hey at least you get to see the whole country."

"Yeah, but it's a little hard to make friends when you move all the time.'

"I can only imagine. I've lived here my entire life. We moved houses about five years ago, but that's only because our old house flooded, and the repair costs were sky high."
"Sounds fun," I said, and I made sure to put ample sarcasm on it.

"Is it weird, you know, not knowing any of your friends for very long? And well, not sharing childhood memories?"

"Well I have my dad, but other than that, I don't know what it's like any other way."

"Do you ever keep in touch with your old friends?"

"I never really had too many friends. Half the time there wasn't anyone to keep in touch with." I looked at my feet. I had always been 'the new kid'. I was lucky if I could get one worthwhile friend at each school. If I had stayed longer, I probably could've made more friends, but I was also extremely socially awkward and tended to avoid all the social events that probably would've gotten me more friends. I was fine with not having many friends though, and if you ask me, it's better this way.