Someone Like Adam

1. First day at Redwood High

Simone de Beauvoir said, "There is something in the New York air that makes sleep useless." Honestly, I couldn't relate to that quote. Because for the last half an hour, I have been yawning continuously. Even the "Interesting" facts about New York that the driver was telling us couldn't activate my hazy mind.

"Just five more minutes." dad said. It didn't offer any relief because that's exactly what he said twenty minutes earlier.

My eyelids were growing heavier with each passing second. I looked through the window glass towards the sky. The clouds were dispersed against the dark background like cotton candy. I chuckled at my own weird imagination. Leaning back into my seat, I closed my eyes for a moment and the next thing I knew, someone was tapping my shoulder lightly.

"Mmmm." I emitted an exhausted yawn. Opening my eyes to small slits, I looked at my father who was sliding out of the car. Stretching my arms, I hopped out from my side. My eyes met with a two-storey house which looked a lot smaller then our house in Florida. The maroon walls were dusted with dirt particles and the condition of the gate didn't look well-maintained either.

"Not this one, Ali." Dad called and I turned around, only to find a beautiful amd cozy looking house standing in all its glory in front of me. The walls appeared beige under the moonlight, a grey metallic gate was separating the house from the street.

Dad unlocked the gate, revealing a small yet beautiful lawn surrounding the house. I followed him to the inside of the house. A small hallway led us to a TV lounge. Three of its walls were mahogany colored while the one against the LCD screen was painted in white. A seven seater sofa was occupying most of the space inside the lounge.

"There are three en suite bedrooms, one at each floor. Which one do you want?" Dad asked, placing his suit case on the sofa and slouched down beside it.

"I'll take the one on second floor." I said and exited the lounge. Climbing the stairs, I stopped in front of a beige door and pushed it open. The room was drowned in darkness. I pulled my phone out of my jeans pocket and started the torch. The dim light helped me to locate the switchboard.

As soon as I sitched on the lights, a small gasp escaped my lips. The room was like those rooms photographed in an architectural magazine. The walls were deep violet, contrasting perfectly with the white furniture. A white upholstered bed was set in the middle, with one chaise couch on its right and a wardrobe with attached dressing table at its left.

There was a small window beside the wardrobe, covered with white silk curtain. With small steps, I reached the window and slided the curtain away. There was haunting silence prevailed in the street, not even a bird was chirping.

I was about to close the curtains again when something caught my attention,or rather someone in the window of that maroon house. There was a man, or a boy maybe. I couldn't see clearly because his back was facing me.

My mouth gaped open at the sight of his flexing muscles as he punched the punching bag hanging from the ceiling. Every dip and crevice of his muscled back was visible under the moonlight. He paused for a minute and stretched his arms, his biceps bulged out as he ran his fingers through his brown hair.

Damn.

"Ali." I heard Dad's voice and I felt like I was caught stealing my favourite candy. I turned around swiftly, my eyes still wide open.

"Y.. Yes." my throat felt dry.

"Do you like your room?" he asked.

"Yes. It.. It's beautiful." I managed to say.

He assessed my face for a moment, trying to find the reason behind my flustered state. "Ok. Good night." he said, looking around.

"Good night dad." I passed him a small smile.