Renegade

Chapter two

Hello and welcome to Renegade, the first original story I ever dared to publish. If you like what you're reading, please leave a vote or a comment or both. If you don't like it, don't hesitate to tell me why. I don't get easily upset so as long as your comments are fair and written with the intent to help make the story better, I won't mind if your tone is harsh. Enjoy!

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Theo's life had always been organized. It started when he was four and he'd decided that he was old enough to dress himself. He had pushed his mother's arms aside, reaching for the drawer of clothing himself. He'd opened the top one, intent on choosing his underwear first and had been shocked to find it full of socks. Why had they been stored there? Clearly, socks belonged in the lowest drawer, as they were the last item of clothing you put on. 

He had stared disbelievingly at them for a few seconds before his pudgy hands had grabbed as many of them as he could and thrown them on the floor. His mother hadn't understood and had tried to stop him. The following argument had escalated to the point where he had been writhing on the floor, throwing the biggest temper tantrum of his short life. His mother had managed to calm him down enough to get an explanation, proceeding to help him sort out the clothes according to his preferences afterward.

To this day, his clothes were organized the same way. As were his books and his school supplies. Even the fridge – though he had grown out of tantrums, only sighing when his parents happened to misplace the carton of milk and swiftly putting it back in its proper place. Every time his father caught sight of his habit, he would shake his head and grumble about his son's OCD. 

He had never officially been diagnosed, as the first time his father had brought the subject up his mother had shot him down, telling him how Theo just liked his stuff clean and organized. The latter was true, the former, not so much. He didn't like cleaning and the only reason he did it was to keep his mother out of his room. 

He was no clean freak, he just liked order and rituals: going to bed at a fixed time every evening, waking up at the same hour every morning. Washing his limbs in a certain order, brushing all sides of his teeth an equal amount of times and for the volume to be on a multiple of five. Ok, so maybe his father was onto something...

Setting his quirky habits aside, there was a domain in which disorder didn't bother him and that was basketball. The rush of excitement and adrenalin he got out of the sport was as exhilarating as his routines were calming. It balanced his life out nicely. Not to mention he was good at it. Really good. So much so, in fact, that he had been offered a scholarship to a college he never even dreamed of attending otherwise. The news had brought his mother to tears and had his father beaming.

Four years later found Theo on a jog around campus, earbuds in place, listening to a woman's husky voice croon about her first love. He had no idea who it was, nor what song he was listening to since most of his play-list was made up of Marcy's preferred tunes. He had never much cared for music, only using it to drown out the chatter of students around him when he was trying to study or to keep the sound of traffic at bay when he was out. 

Now wasn't much different as his mind was more concentrated on his upcoming tasks – yes, he indeed made a daily schedule which he religiously kept to. 

He swiftly skirted around a giggling trio of friends, his pace never wavering, even as he glimpsed a familiar figure up the road. It was a petite brunette, her hair fastened up in a messy bun, dressed in gray yoga pants and a tight hoodie that highlighted her curves. She was in the middle of stretching, her caramel eyes trained on him. She easily fell in beside him, a smile on her lips.