Rayston Point Road || Editing

Chapter Three

Once outside on the front porch, I paused only briefly to ensure Leighton and Dan hadn't heard and followed me downstairs, before I started heading down the street towards Rayston Point. I had no destination in mind, only knowing that the nearly five-hour nap I had just succumbed to would make it hard for me to fall back asleep for a while, and I desperately needed to clear my head, and this town was a much more promising place to do so. With the late hour, most residents seem to have already retreated inside, save for the occasional car that passed me on the main road as I headed back in the direction of the baseball field, the only landmark that I knew. A few businesses, mostly small diners or bars, still had their lights on down the strip, some people crowded inside, but otherwise the presence of humans was limited, and the sounds that filled the night were that of crickets, frogs down by the river, and the wind blowing through the small trees that lined the sidewalks.

It was so unlike the sounds of the city that I was used to hearing, so much so that I found myself more focused on every new sound I heard, each passing car pulling my attention away from my thoughts of Leighton, the last argument I had with my mother before she all but kicked me out of the house, the slew of texts I had received from my so-called friends after Nolan's story swept through every person in my contact list, and the email I had received from my absentee father barely a week ago.

The four figures fought for attention in the forefront of my mind, colliding and intertwining with each other in a way that made it impossible for me to try to accomplish what I had wanted by coming out here in the first place, to clear my head. I pushed them all as a door chimed behind me and a small group of people, around my age, spilled out of a diner and into a black pickup truck parked outside. I watched them for a moment, as most of the group climbed into the bed of the truck, before continuing my walk, flipping my hood over my head. I listened as the truck roared to life, and watched as my path was illuminated by warm headlights from the incoming truck. I paid attention as it appeared in the corner of my eye, started to speed past me, and then abruptly stopped when one of the boys in the backseat stood and slammed on the cab of the truck, yelling at them to stop. I watched as the truck screeched to a halt, the other boys and girls in the back squealing and protesting as they jostled from the sudden movement, the driver sticking his head out and looking towards the boy still standing at the center of the bed of the truck, looking directly at me.

"Hey, Harvard!" I glanced down at my sweatshirt, realizing the one I had pulled on was one of Bailee's that I had swiped the last time I had stayed at her house. I briefly wondered if she realized it was gone, or if she realized I was gone yet, before my attention returned to the boy hoping off the bed of the truck and strolling towards me.

Isaac Verano.

"Twice in one evening. It must be my lucky day," he grinned, flashing me the smile that I knew he believed would win me over, and in another life, another situation, it would have- maybe if we had been back home in the city, or if my sister hadn't just warned me to stay away from him, and for once I desperately wanted to prove to her that I was changing, but tonight, tonight was different.

"Something like that," I mumbled, looking past his shoulder as his friends in the truck called for him to come back.

"You looking for something to do? Come with us. We're heading down to the pier for a-" He paused, laughing and shaking his head as one of his friends called him something obscene. "Well, you'll see."

"Why would I come with you? I barely know you." I crossed my arms over my chest, partially due to the cold air sweeping through the town from the ocean. Isaac pushed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, shrugging sheepishly, something else that I suspected he did to try to win people over.

"You've got some serious frown lines going on," he said, pointing to his own forehead, "You look like you could use some fun." His comment only made me frown more, shifting on my feet. "Look, to be honest, my dad knew Leighton's kid sister was coming to town for the summer, and when my grandmother found out, she insisted I try to talk to you. She's naturally big on southern hospitality, but as the mayor she's even worse." He shuffled on his feet as he spoke, making me wonder if the sheepish expression on his face and the hands pushing deeper into his pocket was genuine, and not just a charm tactic. My expression softened slightly, choosing to believe the story he was feeding me.