The day Min claimed to have gotten Hannah's address without her consent, I knew something more serious was in store for us. According to Hannah, Min was no genius and was essentially computer incompetent; he couldn't have gotten the address. To ensure he wasn't lying, we asked him to tell us the address he had found. He not only provided the mailbox number, street name, and city but also the subdivision and directions on how to get there.
As an innately curious person, I now wanted to meet this crazy motherfucker. My friend was appalled at the idea since her mind had been classically warped with society's standard outlook that meeting a stranger in person was a foolish idea. But I decided to anyways, despite her disapproval.
I enjoyed taking risks in life to keep things interesting, but I didn't want to die because I got brutally murdered by some insane guy. That'd be a very dull death. So for protection, I brought along a half-full can of mace along with my precious 9mm Beretta 92FS.
We decided to meet up in the Malibu Grand Prix parking lot during the daytime and then go do some stuff there if all went well. I'm usually not that punctual, but that day I rolled up into the parking lot at 6:00 on the dot - a half hour early. To ease my boredom, I cranked up my old car's stereo and began thinking of possible topics of discussion for crazy guy. Should I bother asking why he is so incompetent when texting or should I just stick with normal questions like what grade are you in and do you have any siblings? Nah, I wasn't a boring person so I would definitely start out by grilling him with questions about why he was texting my friend.
I then noticed the clock had just turned to 6:30. Where was he? I suddenly felt like an idiot. Imagine if he never showed up and I had just sat there wasting my time and my poor car's battery life. Or what if he forgot on accident or didn't see my car? Just then, my phone buzzed. Min had sent a text with a single question mark. What the heck... I noticed I had another message from about twenty minutes ago, so I opened that realizing it was from him. Shit. My music had been so loud I didn't even hear it go off. As I was pondering over whether I should call or text, a sleek blue Lamborghini Estoque pulled up next to my ancient car. The driver door opened and one of the most attractive guys I had ever seen emerged. I fumbled out of my car and stood there in shock.
"Hey, I'm Damon," he said in a smooth, even tone while politely extending his hand for my approval.
"Hey, I'm Brandon," I imitated.
His eyebrows came close together with confusion and he cocked his head slightly as if ensuring he had heard correctly.
"That's right you imbecile. That's all you're gonna get," I spat out. And so our evening began.
