Second Choice

The Gift

"If you say so, Dusty," I whisper and slide my phone back inside my pocket. 

Never again will I believe his promises. Never.

The week flies by before I know it. I stash away every piece of clothes in some oversized boxes, and the moving men came and set me up in a small apartment across the street next to the college. Laura and Janie say they will come as soon as they finish with school and square the deal off with the new tenant. Several times I attempt to go back home, but Laura says if I do, it will only make it harder for me to focus on getting my classes started.

Having a yard with only one acre compared to the old place before is a huge adjustment. Teens walk across my property after school and dogs s**t in the front yard. The upkeep is not so bad.  The old tenant left me their lawnmower. I can cut my yard in a matter of thirty minutes instead of a half of a day, and no snakes have slithered across my porch. Yet.

Laura asked me how many campus men I have been getting wet over. I told her there is no way I have time for such nonsense as a man in my life. They are bullshit. Besides, the ones I saw walking around here had a permanent beer keg attached to their forehead. 

Why am I worried about this, anyway? Tomorrow starts the beginning of my classes towards my dream to be an author. I am not here for a f*****g man. I am here for me and only me. 

Looking around my new bedroom at the yellow-painted walls, I pull up my quilt above my shoulders and sigh before turning off the light and letting the darkness consume me for the night.

*******

The sound of banging on my front door startles me out of sleep. "What the f**k?" I scratch my tasseled hair and rub my eyes. Someone knocks on the door again.

Still groggy, I make my way to the front door and unlock it. Ever so slightly, I crack it to see who it is. There is a man six foot two with dirty blonde hair and baby blue eyes casually standing with a package in his arms. Maybe it is because I am half asleep or the way the sunlight glistens on his jawline, but my mouth runs dry. "Um, uh..."

"Bailey McDowell?" He asks, confirming my name.

"Um.. yes?" I ask, trying not to look at the way his biceps tighten every time he adjusts the weighted box.

"This box was on my step this morning." He nods next door."I saw the address and name and figured it was meant for you." The corner of his lip smiles just so making me second guess everything I said the night before.

"Um, sorry about that." I pull out my arms. "Here. Let me get that for you."

"Oh, no. It's way too heavy." He shakes his head and peeks through the door. "Would you like me to set it down somewhere?

"Oh, sure. You can just place it on the table." 

I push the door open, allowing the man to go before me. With each step, he takes his time, making sure not to drop it while all I can do is seem to stare at the back of his assets bulging against his tight denim jeans. 

What the hell is wrong with me? I haven't even made it to my classes yet. f**k.

The man carefully sets the box down and nods. I tuck my hair behind my ear. "Thanks."

"It was not a problem at all." He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. "Although, curiosity has me for sure. What's in there? A ton of bricks?"

For the first time in a long time, a smile spreads across my face. "Hmm, maybe it is."

The man laughs. "Well, it was a pleasure to deliver your bricks, but I need to get going, or I will be late for work."

"Yes. Me too." I smack my forehead. " I mean, I will be late for class."

"That would not be a good start for the year." He laughs.

"No. It wouldn't." I shake my head quickly.

"Talks to you soon, then." he winks and leaves without even giving me his name.

I figure all for the best and walk toward the package to see what it is. "It has no return address. How odd..."

I gather a knife from the drawer and rip the tape seam down the middle open. Flipping each side of the box flap open, I glance inside, half nervous half curious to discover what it could be. My eyes bulge when I see what it is. 

"Oh, my God."

All mint condition books for my entire term, a set of mint condition encyclopedias, and dictionaries. 

"Holy, hell..."

The phone buzzes. I look at the screen to see who it is. It is from the same number as the other night. Dusty...

"Have a wonderful first day in college. Future author."

Dusty xoxoxo

I text back..., pausing several times, trying to find the courage to ask did Dusty do all this for me. There was no smooth way to bring it up, so type and send without looking anymore. 

"Did you send me all this stuff, Dusty?"

There is a silent pause. One that seems to take forever to answer. All that my screen shows are three pending dots like he is thinking of what to say to me. My phone buzzes, followed by only two words.

"All, what?" 

I know Dusty too well. I smile and text back.

"Thank you, Dusty. Thank you for everything. It is... perfect."

A single rose pops up across my phone, letting me know all I need to know. Yes, Dusty did this and the rose, was silent you're welcome.

My phone buzzes again. It is not Dusty this time. It is a confirmation for delivery for one more box coming tomorrow.  

"Now what are you up to, Dusty Hofman?"