Scar Tissue

two: best of you

i'm getting tired of starting again,
somewhere new
- foo fighters, best of you

I planned on avoiding Noah Li at all costs.

Now, while that wasn't the most realistic goal, it was certainly one I was determined to make attainable. Were we next door neighbors? Yes. Was there bound to be a time when we both happened to be outside, or walking to our cars, or even closing our bedroom curtains at the same time? Not if I could help it.

There were a few things I hadn't accounted for, however. Like the obnoxiously small fence that separated our backyards.

I had been home for three days and was extremely proud of the progress I had been making. I had swapped my bedroom curtain for a blackout one I found in the closet, and while I wasn't sure how much it really helped, I had faith in it. I looked out all of the windows before I left my house, although that wasn't really a big deal, considering I spent most of my time shut in my room, filling out job applications.

Three days shut inside, however, was making me a little stir crazy.

Both of my parents had left for work before I'd woken up, and Sarah promised to come by sometime in the afternoon. The only problem was that Sarah considered the afternoon anytime from one o'clock until the sun set, so there was no telling what time she would actually be gracing me with her presence.

I groaned loudly and scooped my laptop off the kitchen table, making my way to the back door and sliding it open. While the summers in Arizona were scorching out, the summers in suburban Philadelphia were slightly better. Today was higher up on the slightly scale.

I plopped down into one of the outside patio chairs and pulled the table closer to me, setting my laptop down on it. I was applying for all jobs, no matter the distance or state they were in, just waiting for a response. I knew that getting a job with just a bachelors in social work was going to be tough, but I wanted to work for awhile before I went back for my masters.

I sighed and leaned back against the chair, forcing my fingers away from the keyboard. It was once I stopped furiously typing that I realized it wasn't as quiet outside as I had initially thought.

Noah's parents had gotten him a drum set when we were six and, to us, it was basically the coolest thing ever. We had spent two years carelessly smashing away at his set before his parents convinced him to get lessons, something he stuck with for a few years before he dropped them. And while he wasn't Dave Grohl, he hadn't been half bad.

Wasn't, half bad, if the noise I was hearing was anything to go by.

His parents must have been at work, because I could hear Noah playing away in his basement, the noise echoing out into my backyard. I couldn't make out the song he was playing (half bad, which meant he still occasionally butchered some songs) and I found myself leaning forward, ears strained as I struggled to make out the noise.

Nope, I told myself, jerking back in my seat. I had spent enough years sitting in my backyard, the noise of Noah's playing soothing me. It was not something I ever intended to fall back into.

There must have been someone from above taking pity on me, because before I could pathetically find myself leaning forward to his music, my phone rang. I exhaled in relief and snatched it off the table, answering Sarah's call immediately and bringing the phone to my ear. She was already talking by the time I could hear her, but I was ninety-nine percent sure I hadn't missed anything.

"Hi," I greeted, cutting off whatever she had been saying. I leaned back against my chair and closed my eyes. "That is how you properly start a phone call. You may continue."