HER | ✓

⍣Twenty-One⍣

The next day came and Clayton drove to Farah's. A picture perfect place of sorts, if people actually dreamed of living in a concrete jungle without a patch of grass in sight for blocks. The sun was setting in the horizon and the bright orange reflected off the tall glass windows. He parked his trusty old truck between two sleek opulent cars. The contrast made him cringe, as if the environment was telling him he didn't belong.

He walked inside the building and was surprised to see a woman sitting behind a large desk. He thought it was only something that happened in movies. He didn't know whether to speak to her first or just walk straight past her. He chose the latter and was surprised when she didn't stop him. She didn't even glance at him. She was too busy smacking her gum and painting another layer on her nails.

He grew nervous when he entered the elevator and started going up. His heart was climbing up his throat and he felt the sudden need to vomit. He hadn't ever felt this way before so why did he feel like this now? It wasn't like he was meeting with her to profess his love. He just wanted to talk, right?

The elevator dinged and the doors opened to long vast hallway. He didn't budge. He just stared out at nothing in particular. He stared for so long the doors closed again and higher he went. When the doors opened again a man in an immaculate suit stepped inside and assessed him, tapped a number, and back down they went.

He eyed the man from the corner of his eye. His short cut hair and clean face and pristine suit made Clayton feel even more out of his element. He glanced down at his faded white shirt under the dingy jacket and the small rip in the hem of his jeans. If these were the kind of people Farah surrounded herself with then what made him think she wanted to see him? 

He stayed in the elevator until it reached ground floor and walked out behind the man. There were more people now than when he entered. It was like someone opened the floodgates and everyone who lived here was coming home all at once. He weaved through everyone, muttering apologies as he bumped into them as he tried to reach the exit.

"Clayton?" Farah spotted him. In a panic he ducked and hid by a plant. "Clayton? What are you doing down there?"

He looked up at her holding Charlotte's hand. "Um... I just dropped something and it rolled away from me."

"Oh..." She looked away blushing. "I thought you were hiding from me for a moment. George said you might stop by."

Nervousness was creeping on him and it showed through his smile. "Yeah, I was on my way up."

"You can stand up now," Charlotte said.

"Right." He laughed and scratched the back of his head as he rose.

"Come upstairs and I'll make us something to eat. Are you hungry?" Farah asked.

"Uh... Yeah," he said and followed after them.

"I don't think I have much in the house, Charlotte and I were just going to have a pizza and call it a night. Is that alright with you?"

"Yeah, definitely." He nodded his head over enthusiastically.

Farah wouldn't look at him and for that he was relieved. Sweat trickled down his neckline and with the elevator packed full of people he felt like he was suffocating. When the elevator made its first stop and they stepped out, he let out a breathe of air. He was free for now.