Fancy Walmart Tea

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Sleep evades me. There's a gap in the curtains of my trailer that casts moonlight over my bed. My eyes keep shooting over to that gap to make sure that someone isn't staring in it. 

I haven't ever been on one to watch horror movies, but there were several that I let my brother talk me into when I was in high school that I now regret watching. 

What if they break into my trailer and take me now? It wouldn't be hard at all. Like Thomas told me before - trailer locks aren't difficult to break. Slate knows my exact lot number; lot twenty-seven.

Several hours pass and I'm still wide awake, listening to the quiet snoring of Red at the foot of my bed. 

I'm nothing short of paranoid and I know it. Every sound makes me jump, and clench up with fear. Every time the blowing wind jostles my trailer, or a twig snaps outside, or someone's feet crunch by as they head to the bathroom.

Before I know what I'm doing, I slip out of bed, shrug on my jacket, and step outside, finding myself in front of the door to the camp office. Deciding to knock because it's so late,  I reach forward and knock three times, glancing around the campground that appears to be quiet. 

I wait several moments before I hear shuffling behind the door, and it's pulled open. Thomas stands on the other side of it, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. When he spots me, he furrows his eyebrows in confusion. 

"Stephanie?" He groans, stretching a bit, "What are you doing? It's one in the morning."

"I know."

"So, what is it then?" He asks.

I start, "I..."

Now that I'm here, standing in front of Thomas, I feel ridiculous. I should not have woken Thomas for this. I should not take anything to Thomas -I mean, he's Thomas. I'm so tired that my brain is functioning slower than usual, and the trauma from earlier obviously isn't helping it work right. 

Thomas is staring at me expectantly. 

"I just..." I manage to say, "couldn't sleep..."

Thomas continues to stare at me. 

"I apologize, I'll just go." I say, starting to turn around, but then Thomas grabs my wrist, pulling me back around towards him.

"Is everything okay?"

I lie, "Yeah, yes, everything's okay. I'm fine."

"Are you certain?" He asks, tilting his head to look in my eyes.

I glance away, down to where his fingers are curled around my wrist. Slowly, I shake my head. 

Sighing, he lets go of my wrist, gesturing me forward, "Come in."

I stare at him. He raises an eyebrow at me. I give in and step into the office. There isn't anyone is the front room, and all looks completely normal. However, there's a ray of light that comes from the door in the back of the room.

Thomas steps behind me, urging me forward, "To the back. Come on, now."

I step into the back room. It's not large, but it's bigger than the office out front. There are several filing cabinets lined up against the wall, and there's a desk near by them. A mini fridge and small shelves with food on them sit in one corner, and a tiny Foosball table sits in the middle of the room. In the very back of the room, there are two separate beds across from each other. The one on the right has obviously been slept in, since the covers are thrown back. At the foot of the bed is a backpack, and a laptop.  

Thomas walks over to the shelves by the mini fridge, pulling a couple tea bags from a small box. He grabs two plain mugs off the shelves and sets the tea bags on them. Using an electric, mobile stove that is set on the top shelf, he warms up some water before pouring it into the mugs and setting the tea bags in it. 

The Rendezvous // Thomas SangsterWhere stories live. Discover now