Where The Lines Overlap

Chapter 4.

Taking one last glance at my surprisingly clean apartment, I notice the air still carried the scent of burnt cinnamon rolls. In my attempt to be a good host, I tried to make something for us to eat but I failed miserably, forgetting the rolls in the oven. I almost forget that I still have yet to plan something for us to do.

I wasn't sure what I was thinking inviting some guy I hardly knew over to where I live. For all I know this guy could be a serial-killer-slash-rapist. He could possibly render me unconscious and who knows what else he was capable of.

He did creep up on me back at the record store and truth be told I was a little freaked out.

But something in the way he looked at me made me push aside all of my negative feeling towards him.

As I learned earlier, his name was Luke. The name itself gave me this sensation that was more than a little giddy.

I walked by the mirror hanging in my hallway, finding myself fixing my dark mess of hair. My activity is disrupted by the sound of pounding on my door. I walk rather quickly to answer it, taking in a breath before opening it.

Luke leaned against the frame, holding a sly expression on his face. His lips formed a half smirk, his large figure taller than I remembered, even while he was leaning, the boy was taller than me. But what really caught my attention was his outfit.

A long-sleeved black thermal coated him and a grey knitted beanie flattened his normally styled hair. And a comfortable looking pair of sweatpants covered his slim legs. He looked relaxed, no doubt. But it surprised me, since it was late July in San Francisco.

"Hey." He said lazily.

He sounded sleepy which I saw as a turn on. The sleeves on his shirt covered the majority of his hands, but in his right hand, which was hanging by his side, he held a plastic bag full of what I could only guess would be vinyls.

"I saw you looking at some of these." He said, holding up the bag.

"I thought we could listen to them together."

I felt my cheeks get warmer, the gesture was extremely thoughtful and I couldn't find the words to thank him.

"Come on in." I waved my hand, guiding him through the door.

He smiled and walked through my doorway, setting the bag on the kitchen table. He took in my apartment, his eyes wandering into every nook. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. I was glad I decided to keep the AC on or he would have been roasting.

"Painter?" He asked, licking his lips. His eyes were focused on all the portraits I had hanging up on the walls. I nodded, proud of the art on display. I learned a lot of helpful tips while working at Painted Dream. It was a hobby I've acquired throughout the years.

"You like 'em?" I say, curious as to what was going through his mind when he saw them.

"They're amazing. You're really talented."

The way he said made the compliment sound like it was that big of a deal but it was still a nice thing to say.

As he continued to glance around my apartment, I felt the awkward silence in the room wedge it's way between us. I peered into the plastic bag on the table and got a glimpse of what looked to be a Smiths album. I picked it up and walked over to my Crosley and carefully put the turntable needle on the record. The room slowly began to fill up with the sound of 'There Is a Light Never Goes Out.'

I see Luke nodding in approval, plopping down on my couch. I go over to him, sitting on the opposite side. On the table is a bowl of cherries that I forgot to put away, I grab one anyway and put it to my lips, him watching very closely.