The Painter and Toker

Chapter 23 s2 e8 The sleepover

Hyde point of view

Hyde was leaning against the vista cruise, Addie's drive wat was empty her step-father had just pulled away, and her mom was working a double shift. He'd just gotten a job at the photo-hut, and he wanted to share the news with Addie first. He was also anxious to see her room, everybody else had including Fez had been in it. It was driving him nuts, she was his girl, and she'd thrown herself in his room on multiple occasions, more than half the time to take naps on his bed.

He walked across the street and up her drive walk standing at her front door. Her Step-father Gregory wasn't here, this meant it was safe to knock. Hyde knocked on the door and stood there waiting, but there was no answer. He stood there tapping his foot, he knew Addie was in there; he could hear David Bowie leaking from the house. He knocked again this time louder. Still, there was nothing. He turned to go knock on her basement window when he heard the door open,

"What!!!" Ryan shouted as he swung open the door, he scowled at Hyde, giving him the once over "she's in the basement."

Hyde followed Ryan into the green livingroom; Pam Macey was lying across the mustard-colored sofa watching David Bowie on the screen. No wonder Ryan was pissed, Hyde was clearing interrupting.

"Hi, Steven..." Pam purred

"Pam"

" the basement doors are through the kitchen," Ryan said, throwing himself on the sofa next to Pam.

Hyde nodded; the house had the same general set up as the Forman's. He stepped through to the kitchen; it was pristine. Everything was either white or blue; everything was in its place. He looked out the glass door leading to the backyard, even the backyard was perfect rose bushes, bird feeders, and a white fence. No wonder Addie hated it here. This house was utterly opposite of her. He opened the basement door and smiled, the pungent smell of pot clung to the air. He walked down the old stone steps the smell getting more potent, at the bottom of the steps he could either turn into a laundry room or to the shut French doors.

The smoke was leaking from the doors; he nudged the door open with his boot and stepped in. Addie was sitting crisscross in the middle of the room painting, she had a blunt in one hand and a paintbrush in the other, she was in short shorts, and a thin white tank top. He grinned, large headphone rested on her head, blaring pink Floyd; no wonder she didn't hear him at the door.

He stood back and looked around the room before she noticed him. Her band posters and her paintings covered the room; there was a small bathroom to his right. Her bed was tucked in the far right corner of the room; it was covered in mismatched pillows and a black daisy blanket. There was an old writing desk under the largest window stacked with papers, then a bookshelf cluttered with art supplies and books.

" Ever heard of knocking??"

He jumped slightly at the sound of her voice and turned around to Addie, staring up at him from the floor, she was smiling. He laughed and sat down next to her,

" like you could have heard me."

She handed him the blunt and walked the headphones over to the stereo next to the desk. He took a drag and looked around the room again; her closest was filled with drying paintings and easels.

" you know most girls fill their closets with clothes and shoes."

Addie sat down on the edge of her bed and pointed underneath, he chuckled there were all her boots.

" your clothes?"

she pointed to the dresser in the cornerback by the doors,

" arent you just nosey."