The Junk Drawer

Hey guys! If you like the chapter, remember to vote. It would mean the world to me :D

“Hey guys,” Bennett told his friends as he momentarily slipped his headset back on, “I’ve got to go. The crazy girl in the bushes just came in through the window.”

“Hey!” I complained, frowning in his direction, “You’re the one who invited me in. Don’t make me sound like a freak.”

“We can do a war raid later tonight, say midnight? I’ll be back on then,” he continued speaking with his friends, and ignored the damaged he was inflicting onto my nonexistent image. “Alright later.”

When Bennett pulled off the headset, put it down on the desk, and smoothed out the ruffles in his hair, he turned to me. “So, what were you saying?”

“Crazy girl in the bushes?” I demanded, arms crossed.

The boy in front of me raised his eyebrows. “No offence, but your sanity is a perfectly good entity for me to question under the current circumstance. Not only have you been spying on me, but also your hair is riddled with sticks, you’re clothed in an incredibly oversized male polo, and your pants are saturated.”

Peering down at my ensemble, I nodded my head regretfully in agreement. Yes, my outfit looked crazy, but really it wasn’t my fault! Well, sort of. I was still blaming the dang bucket for this one. “Trust me, I’m not crazy,” I defended myself. “I spilt a bucket of water at work, which explains these ridiculous clothes. And about the spying thing, I really wasn’t trying to. I came here looking for you, and then I heard you through the window and I just…” I trailed off not exactly knowing if that counted as a good excuse.

Bennett just stared at me with an unimpressed look. His eyebrows were perched high, with his arms crossed firmly over his chest. My gaze flickered down to the surprising amount of muscle bulging out of his skintight Star Trek shirt.

“So, um,” I said, my eyes moving back up to his face before he caught me staring. “Will you help me?”

He rolled his eyes. “I let you in, didn’t I?”

A few minutes later, I was seated across from Bennett on the other side of his computer desk on the room’s only other piece of furniture: a bright red love sac. I felt like I was at some awkward interview, my neck cranked all the way back so I could see over the edge of the desk.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Bennett said after a few silent moments. He had taken the time to clean up his area, removing the bottles of Mountain Dew and wrappers of long gone Hot Pockets.

“Errr, thanks,” I said looking around at his space. My teenage life had been void of boys, and I had only dreamed of spending time with one in their room. Somehow I had pictured my first guy’s room to be a little more, I don’t know. Exciting?

The walls were a bare white and besides the computer setup and love sac, the only other piece of furniture in the room was a bookshelf. It was a beautiful cherry oak wood and it reached all the way to the ceiling, filled to the brim with books.

Weren’t boy rooms supposed to be so messy that you couldn’t see the floor, with walls covered in posters of naked models and expensive cars? Where were all the sports trophies, or in Bennett’s case science fair medals, displayed proudly for everyone to see?

There wasn’t even a bed for crying out loud! Where the heck did he sleep? Maybe he was so into gaming that he just stayed up 24/7 living on caffeine?

After rummaging around in the desk drawer for a moment, Bennett’s hand emerged with a spiral notebook and a sleek black pen. The side of the pen was advertising BuildMe.com. I couldn’t read the slogan in its tiny font, but I had seen enough of the writing utensils sold at local stores to know that it read: Build your own Internet experience.

“How exactly can I help you, um…”

“Mikey.” I told him my name, “It’s Mikey. I’m your next door neighbor,” I offered. Even the nerd next door didn’t know who I was. How pathetic.

“Sure, right,” he said clicking his pen, before scribbling something down. “How can I help you, Mikey?”

“I need to win the game this summer,” I answered, pulling at the beads on my bracelet nervously.