When He Came To My Door

"Hi." I said flatly. 

Okay, so maybe my greeting to the boy isn't so nice, but I was trying to sleep, for crying out loud, and I am not going to put up with door-to-door salesmen. The particular guy who came to my door is maybe 17 or 18, with messy brown hair, a nice tan, and green eyes. He's cute, but when I'm tired, I am vicious.

Before he can pitch me whatever persuasive speech he has for me, I interrupt him.

"I really do not want my soul saved, or to buy books for literacy, or buy candy to support teens against tobacco use."

"Hi, I'm Jesse Moore." He responds to my earlier, cold salutation and ignores my previous statement. "I brought you this." He hands me a large, woven basket I didn't notice before. It's heavier than I expect it to be, so I set it down inside the doorway. "My mom sent me. You just moved in, right?" His eyes glance down to my chest.

"Y-yeah," I stutter. "Just a couple days ago." I look back at my half-empty, new house, boxes piled everywhere. "Thank you." I offer my hand, fingernails skillfully painted aqua blue. His eyes rake over my chest for a second time while we shake, and I begin to get peeved. I flip my blonde, stick straight hair over my shoulder.

"I'm Jesse."

"You said your name already." My mocking smile disappears as quickly as it comes.

"Am I gonna have to say it again to get you to tell me what yours is? See, you're supposed to say your name after I tell you mine."

I ignore him. "So where do you live?"

He sighs and gives up. "Just across the street, a couple houses over. I'm the green one, over there." He points and then redirects his attention to me. "You look like you just woke up." His eyes drop down to my chest again for a moment.

I am so shocked at his words, my mouth drops open for a second and then I snap it shut. Now I am definitely pissed. "Yeah, well I have this really annoying neighbor who likes to come to my house really early in the morning and stare at my boobs."

Now it's his turn to be shocked, but before he can say anything, I pull the gift basket in and shut the door. At least I got free cookies.

"Wow, Adria, you're up early." My mother, Jennifer Hanson, brushes a strand of short blond hair behind her ear and glances at the clock, which reads 9:00. In the summer, and on a weekend, that is extremely early for me. She looks down. "Your locket popped open. We should get you a new one." I hastily pop it back closed. "No, I like this one." I say stubbornly. She changes the subject. "Who are those from?"

I just groan and shove the basket at her, heading back to my room.