by Nicole Marsh
Chapter 6
The next morning, I wake up early and take my time dressing. I have all of ten outfits in my closet. Not by choice, of course. What girl doesn’t wish she had a closet overflowing with the latest fashion?
But fashion requires money.
Since clothes can’t be eaten when money gets tight, I’ve never splurged on buying nice things. Instead, I make do with the clothes my mom sporadically purchased for me from the thrift store or hand-me downs given from the school nurse, courtesy of unclaimed lost and found.
I change a dozen times, cycling through every combination of my few pieces, before settling on a sundress I rarely wear and a pair of strappy sandals. Examining my reflection in the mirror, I contemplate if my outfit is too fancy to go thank someone you barely know. My eyes return to the pile of clothes on my bed, flitting over the cut off shorts, tank tops, and halter tops.
Out of everything I own, this is probably closest to what people wear, on that side of town.
With my outfit decided, I exit into the early morning sun and pop my sunglasses on. Peeling my bike off the trailer, I carefully clamber onto the seat. I’m wearing a small pair of bike shorts under my dress to avoid flashing my neighbors, but use caution to avoid the greasy bike chain.
Once I’m settled, I push off the grass and pedal lazily. Even in our smallish town, riding to the Franzen house takes about forty minutes. They live all the way across the city, the furthest point from the trailer park possible.
I adopt a leisurely pace, not wanting to arrive a hot, sweaty mess. Thankfully, it’s early enough the sun hasn’t hit its highest peak and it’s cooler than it will be midday.
Using the time to solidify my thoughts, I think over all the possible scenarios, trying to create a plan to get into Collin’s house. Would it be weird to invite myself inside to use the bathroom?
I quickly dispel the thought, it wouldn’t be possible to snoop, even if I gained access to the house today. There wouldn’t be enough time.
I’m pulled from my plotting when I arrive at the entrance to the Franzen’s neighborhood. Pedaling down the street, I take in the quietness of the area, appreciating how peaceful it is compared to the ruckus that’s a typical occurrence at the park. Upon reaching Collin’s house, I gently place my bike near the vast, green lawn, not wanting to disturb the quiet or the manicured yard.
He lives in the NICE part of town.
The part that has huge lawns, made of real, green grass with decorative shrubbery; the type of property other people are paid to maintain. The grass, although impressive in its liveliness in the middle of the Alabama summer, is just the foreground to massive, immaculate homes. They’re all similar in size and distanced far apart, separated by clean fences. Each home has shiny, nice cars parked in the driveway, most of them screaming luxury.
Collin lives in the type of neighborhood where it’s safe to play in the road and the families all have barbeques together that don’t end in drunken brawls. The kind of place people probably imagine when they think of southern living.
I glance around in awe, before returning to face my destination.
Pausing a minute to survey the enormous, white, pillared house in front of me, I focus on tamping down my insecurities which flared up as soon as my tires passed the “Golden Oaks” sign posted outside the neighborhood.
I don’t belong here, but I can do this.
Squaring my shoulders, I stride up to the front door and tap lightly, using the small, circular knocker attached to the forest green wood. Shuffling my feet, I wait for five minutes and begin to wonder if I should’ve rung the bell instead.
Unsure, I reach my hand out and lightly press the lit-up circle. Inside I hear an echoing chime, as loud as church bells. The chiming stops, but the door remains unanswered. I shift my weight from foot to foot, wondering if I should leave and come back later.
Is anyone even home?
Disappointed, I finally decide to leave, and return another day, despite the lengthy ride it took to get here. The longer I stand on the porch, the weirder it will seem to any neighbors that happen to look at the Franzen house.
As I place my right foot onto the clean, paved path down towards the main sidewalk—and my bike—I spot a figure running in the distance, feet pounding across the pavement with each long, determined stride.
The person looms closer, the sun glinting off a shirtless chest and a head of golden-hued hair. I inhale sharply, as soon as I realize its Collin. I remain rooted in place, watching his muscles flex as he sprints down the road, clad only in a pair of black gym shorts and bright blue sneakers.
I allow my eyes to roam his form as he finally jumps up the sidewalk and runs straight through his grass, stopping in front of me on the path leading to his house. His chest is heaving, with sweat running in rivulets down his defined pecs. My eyes follow the path, taking in his toned abdomen and ending at the drawstring of his athletic shorts.
Forcing myself to focus, I drag my eyes from Collin’s body to his face. Scanning his features, I take in his sweaty, tousled blonde hair and thick brows. I examine his square jaw, Roman nose, and his plump lips. He’s handsome, drool-worthy, even after his clearly intense run.
But I’m not here for that.
With my intentions set, my eyes finally land on his. The twin green orbs are staring at me inquisitively. He quirks a single brow, which somehow ups his attractive level by at least ten. “What are you doing here, McKenzie?” He drawls out the question, his perfect southern tone making the words gentle and charming.
My cheeks heat slightly as I realize he stood there silently, allowing me to check him out, before asking why I was here. Brushing aside my embarrassment, I focus on my end goal. Shrugging lightly, I say the words that will set my entire plan in motion, “I wanted to thank you for the other night. Could I, I don’t know, buy you a coffee or something to show my appreciation?”
I watch as his entire face softens, a small smile tugging at his lips. “No thank you necessary. I was just doing what anyone else would do in the same situation.”
“But no one else did. Just stop being so nice and let me buy you a coffee.” My eyes flit down his body one more time. I tell myself it’s to make a point, but my gaze drinks in every inch of skin as my eyes rove, directly contradicting the statement. I may never get to see shirtless Collin again, and I want to imprint my brain with this memory. “We can go another day though, since you just got done working out,” I finally add, when my brain gets back on track.
“Do you have time to wait for me to shower?” he drawls out.
“Uhm, sure,” I respond, with a furrowed brow, confused about the sudden change from a raincheck to Collin’s showering habits.
His smile grows and his emerald eyes twinkle. “Why don’t you come on in then? You can wait for me downstairs. I’ll be real quick, then I can drive us downtown.”
“Err, okay,” I finally agree. Regaining my equilibrium after a pause, I quip back, “Sounds like a plan. Better for you to drive…. You’d probably throw off the balance of my bike if you stood on the back pegs.”
My last comment makes him laugh, his small smile expanding into a full grin. His lighthearted happiness summons my own and I beam back at him for a minute. We both stand there grinning like dopes, until a dog barking nearby breaks the trance.
He steps past me, and I permit my eyes to check out his equally toned back while he moves. Collin’s musculature is impressive and I wouldn’t mind being a fly on the wall for any of his workouts. Dragging my eyes from his body, I focus on the ground, ensuring my feet carry me safely to the porch.
His house has one of those fancy, electronic keypad locks; he types in a code then swings the door inward. I try to catch the digits as he presses them, but the pad is partially blocked with his body and I don’t want to be too obvious.
Collin steps inside, stopping in the entryway to beckon me forward with his hand. The open space visible behind him is larger than my entire trailer. This brief
glimpse into his house fortifies me.
He’s probably never struggled for anything.
“Why don’t you come inside and wait in the kitchen?” Collin asks, interrupting my thoughts.
Using his parent’s obvious wealth, I justify my future actions; lying to and betraying someone I don’t even know for my own personal gain. Settling my mind, I stride forward with a smile firmly fixed in place.
Stepping into the house is like being transported to a different world. The checkered floor, chandelier, and curved staircase in the entry belong in an Audrey Hepburn movie, not a small town in Alabama. My jaw drops as I drink in the opulence of the entry alone.
“You can follow me,” Collin drawls and I realize he’s left me behind, walking down the hall, likely in the direction of the kitchen.
I chase after him, noting the beautiful cream-colored walls peppered with paintings of scenery. The hallway has one of those long skinny tables with decorative candles on it and I admire how beautiful the functionless piece of furniture is.
We reach the kitchen which is made of white cabinets and dark granite. A small table with an L-shaped bench is tucked in the far corner and I wander over to it while Collin sticks his head in the fridge. He pops back out a second later, holding two bottles of water.
Ambling to my place at the table, he gently sets one in front of me, keeping the other for himself. “I’ll be back down in a few minutes, make yourself at home,” he states.
I nod, already overwhelmed by his gigantic, elegant home, even after barely making it through a portion of it. He abandons the kitchen, leaving the way we came, and I watch, admiring his fit form until he disappears from sight.
This place already has me all out of sorts. I’m surrounded by the most expensive furniture I’ve ever seen and drooling over the hot guy from school that’s completely out of my league. I can count on one hand the number of interactions I’ve previously had with Collin and we’ve gone to the same school since second grade. The idea of the two of us becoming close is probably a joke, but I’ve come this far.
It’s too late to back out now.
I pop the top on the water bottle and remain seated for about seventy seconds before I start wondering if I should be using this time to snoop. As soon as the thought crosses my mind, the front door to the house flies open.
“Collin?” A feminine voice shouts, the tone sounding polished despite the volume of the word.
Startled, I jump up from the table and take a few tentative steps into the hall. A swath of blonde hair comes into sight, as a woman wearing an elegant, blush pink dress and kitten heels strolls into the foyer carrying a few grocery bags.
Her eyes stop on my face and a polite smile crosses her lips. “Hello, dear. Do you know where Collin is?”
“Yes, he’s upstairs. I’m his… friend McKenzie. Do you need some help?” I ask, watching her thin arms struggle to carry the five bags she has with her.
“Oh, yes dear.” I move to grab one of the bags from her hands, but she waves me off. “There’s more in the car, I have these few if you could start there.”
Nodding, I leave the house and stop behind a beautiful, cherry red Mercedes. I gather four bags from the trunk, after a few seconds of admiring the shimmery paint. Bundling the bags together so I can use both hands, I lug them into the kitchen, wondering if they’re filled with cans, based on their weight alone.
I’m on my second trip into the kitchen, when Collin suddenly appears at the bottom step. He snags the bags from my grasp and strides into the kitchen depositing them quickly before reappearing in the hall. “Is there anything else out there?” he asks.
I decline with a shake of my head, my eyes raking over his form clad in a simple t-shirt and jeans. How is it fair he looks as good in clothes as he does mostly naked?
Collins suddenly snatches my palm, the heat of his skin surprising me as he tugs me towards the door. I’m so startled by the action; I almost miss his next words. “Let’s get out of here, before she corrals us into more chores,” he mock whispers.
“I heard that,” a feminine voice yells from the kitchen, her tone light with humor. “You kids get out of here. Go enjoy this nice weather.”
Collin laughs a deep, rumbly sound that makes my stomach muscles clench. I release my own chuckle and force my feet to move alongside him as he hurriedly drags me through the house, away from the kitchen and towards coffee.
Less than half an hour with Collin and I’m crushing.
Hard.
Boy am I in trouble.
Chapter 7
Collin leads me outside to escape his mom, popping open a portion of the three-car garage attached to his house. The bay reveals a massive, luxury SUV. My jaw drops to the floor as I observe the shiny, black paint and chrome rims, utterly in awe of a vehicle so fancy.
He heads to the driver's seat and opens the door, before realizing I’m no longer following directly behind him, rooted in place on the cement outside instead. “Are you coming?” He drawls out, his tone sounding mildly confused over my sudden stop.
“Is this yours?” I ask, still stuck in place, without answering his question.
He shrugs his shoulders, looking slightly sheepish. “It was my sixteenth birthday present… The team has a lot of away games.”
Of course, Collin would own a fancy SUV.
I scrape my jaw off the ground and force my feet to move, admiring the way my reflection shimmers against the dark colored paint and tinted windows as I walk by. Using the handle inside the door as leverage, I climb up, only to be awed all over again. I don’t know enough about cars to know the type, but shiny paint, plush leather seats, and a sunroof all scream ‘money’ to me.
Trying to be subtle, I inhale deeply, hoping to catch a whiff of that new car smell everyone always brags about. Instead, I discover Collin’s SUV smells like him… like warmth and sunshine. Prior to climbing in here, I would’ve never declared sunshine has a smell, but it’s the perfect way to describe his scent. It’s the smell of a warm summer day in an open field.
I perch on the edge of my seat, anxious to feel the car moving underneath me. Do luxury cars drive smoother than the beaters commonly found in the trailer park? I can only imagine the answer is a resounding “yes”.
Collin eases his SUV out of the garage, slowly backing down the driveway before turning onto the road. My excitement over the vehicle quickly turns into fascination over the guy sitting beside me.
I surreptitiously watch him from underneath my lashes, my eyes drinking in his movements as he confidently maneuvers his car. His face is serious, and focused; the attractive features denoting his concentration. His movements remain confident and sure, providing me with comfort, despite being in the vehicle with a near stranger. I find myself slowly relaxing further into the plush seat during the short drive to the coffee shop downtown.
When the car begins to slow, I tear my eyes away from the mysterious Collin Franzen, shifting to take in our surroundings though the window. Collin drives his SUV close to the curb, and I use the side mirror to watch as he adeptly squeezes his large car into a tight spot, in two quick, sure movements. My gaze is drawn back to his face immediately, like the attraction of a magnetic force.
Who knew a hot guy that drives with confidence would be such a turn on?
A smirk grows as we sit there and he raises a thick brow, aiming it in my direction. “Ready?”
The movement makes me realize I was outright staring, drooling over his handsome face like a ninny. Shaking my head to clear it, I paste a smile on my face before opening my mouth to reply, “Uh, yes?”
Although I’m aiming to come across as a cool, collected, and equally confident girl, to match the effortless and daunting Collin Franzen, the unwanted words leave my mouth in place of something…. better. Not only that, but they sound like a question; higher pitched than usual and rising at the end.
My cheeks heat with embarrassment. Get it together Kenzie.
Thankfully, Collin doesn
’t comment on my weird behavior as we both unbuckle and exit the car. I mentally berate myself for my weird new Franzen fascination as I stay in place on the curb, hearing his door slam shut and his footsteps rounding the car.
Rather than continuing to stare at him, I focus my attention on the nearby area.
I survey the portion of town we’ve driven to. The entire block looks upscale, nicer than the road I normally bike down, on my path to the motel. The buildings are each unique, housing interesting and delicate-looking goods, slightly visible through their front glass windows. I scan the street briefly, but my attention is quickly captured and held by the coffee shop a few steps past Collin’s SUV.
It’s a large, forest green building made of some sort of stucco material. Huge, streak-free windows cover the front, with a few bistro tables dotting the sidewalk preceding the entry. It seems trendy and cool, but also surprisingly inviting.
Until recently, I never spent much time thinking about Collin Franzen. Especially not how he passed the time outside of his glorious football career and reigning position in high school. For some reason, this calming green building suits him. I can imagine him spending his free time here and I’m glad he brought me.
With a self-assurance I’m not one-hundred percent feeling, I stride up to the door. Imagining someday I’ll be the kind of girl that fits in at a place like this, as I tug on the handle.
The interior of the coffee shop does not disappoint my expectations. I inhale deeply upon stepping foot inside, allowing the smell of deliciously well-roasted coffee beans to permeate my entire being before I continue to glance around.
A large, glass-front counter catches my eye. It begins a quarter of the way in, spanning almost the entire length of the wall across from us, displaying an array of mouth-watering pastries. A small, ancient looking register sits at the very end, making it clear this is the place to order. My eyes do a quick sweep of the rest of the shop, noting the chalkboard menu with scrawling script and the assortment of tables and chairs scattered about the floor.
