Flickers

Chapter 2

When I pull up in front of my house, I sigh. It has been a long day. It's pouring rain. By the time I get Max and the bags into the house, I am soaking wet. I drop all of the bags on the kitchen counter. While I make Max's dinner, I un-bag all the groceries. I slide two pills in the bowl when he isn't looking a put it on the floor. While he is eating, I jump into the shower.

By the time I get out, he is curled up on the rug, sound asleep. I get on my laptop and log onto Facebook. Usually, I would never have any notifications. But when I log on, I have two notifications 1 friend request and 1 message. I click on the friend request. It's from Chris. I freeze up and stare at the screen. Amanda was serious about getting us together. Suddenly, I get a knock on the door.

I hold my breathe. Who would possibly know that I live here? Can this day get any crazier? My hands shake and I set my laptop onto my coffee table. Slowly, I walk to the door. I reach for the door knob and pause. I exhale. The knocks return again, this time a little louder.

I touch the door knob and turn it. I open the door and everything goes silent. I can't hear the rain thumping the roof in unsynchronized rhythms or the thunder roaring through the forest trees. All I hear is my heartbeat, throbbing in my ear. It's him. The man from my dreams. He is standing on my porch, soaking wet. He is holding two wet duffle bags. His blue jeans almost look black from the rain.

His white shirt is sticking to his body, showing his sculpted physique. His dark, black hair is sticking to his forehead, and dripping from rain water. His expression is hard; his green eyes pierce through me.

"Can I come in?" The wet stranger blurts.

He sounds angry, even though the question is supposed to be polite. Before I can answer, he steps forward and brushes past me into my house and leaving me standing at the door. The man of my dreams is in my house. The man who I've never meet but dreamt of every night. For two years. Correction, this day has gotten crazier...

What is he doing here? How does he know me? How does he even know I live here? The man I've been dreaming about is in my house... The dreams that tore me away from my career, my aspirations, my family, and my friends. Dreams that altered my life completely. I look at the brown muddy trail of shoe prints on my patio. My eyes follow them into my house, and all the way to where he is standing.

He throws his wet duffle bags onto my couch, and unzips one of them. The bag is jammed with tangled wires and cords. He digs through the bag for a second or two and pulls out something that looks like a USB drive. It is a strange color blue that hurts my eyes when I look at it. He grabs my laptop and sits down. He plugs the drive into my computer. He starts typing furiously; he's eyes darting across the screen. There are so many emotions running through my mind right now and, I'm not really sure which one I should pick.

Excitement because he might have the answers for why I have been having these dreams. Confusion because he knows where I live and who I am. Does he have these dreams to? And anger. He rudely invited himself into my home. He made a muddy mess on my wooden floors. He threw his soaking wet bags onto my couch. And he sat on my couch, drenched with rain, and goes through my computer.

I decided to go with anger. Suddenly, heat prickles my face and travels down to my feet. I walk around my couch and stand in front of him. He doesn't even notice me, as he continues to type away. I need to get his attention. I place my hand on the back of the laptop, and push down hard, closing it. He looks up at me with a look of confusion and anger.

"Um, hi. I don't mean to interrupt," I say louder than I intended.

"But I don't know you all that well. First impression is everything. So far, you've given me a bunch of reasons not to like you." At this point, I am almost yelling, and my finger is pointed in his face.