Chapter 6: THE HOUSE DOWN THE STREET 2

THE HOUSE DOWN THE STREET 2

The name hit Ethan like a brick and he found himself choking on his own breath. His head snapped up instantly to Tom standing a few feet away.

“…Huh?” was all that slipped past his lips as his eyes widened.

Tom just shrugged again like it was nothing. "He met me after class and paid me to come over and do his assignment for him.”

Ethan stared at him for a long moment, speechless. Then a huff left him as he muttered, “He what?”

“Uh, yeah," Tom said casually, tapping his canvas against the wet grass. "Apparently a couple other people are go’n be there too. I heard Roseanne’s among them. You could ask her out there."

Ethan just… blinked as he sank deeper into his seat. Tom stood there, staring at him for a few seconds before sighing again.

“I figured you'd want to come too,” he said. "You know… get a chance to ease out of your shell a little.”

Ethan hesitated, his mind drifting. He knew how he was around Blake, especially after their ‘accident’. He could handle the tension at school, but his own house?

The thought alone made his stomach twist.

“Tom," Ethan called slowly, his gaze meeting Tom's. "I’m… not really sure. Maybe I should just stay back.”

Tom waited for a moment before simply nodding. "Alright then,” he said as he turned and began walking back toward the street.

Ethan watched him go, the soft hiss of the sprinkler as it rotated again filling the space in his mind. He glanced down at it as it sent another arc of water through the air.

Then came the thud of music behind him.

Maybe… the place was distracting.

Ethan gritted his teeth, turning back to Tom who was now close to the curb. Then he cursed under his breath and slammed his books shut.

“Hold on," he called.

Tom stopped in his tracks and turned to see Ethan struggling to shove his books into his bag. The nerd dropped the books on the wet grass one too many times before managing to put them back in.

"I'm coming,” he shouted again as he slung the backpack over his shoulder and hurried across the lawn.

Tom raised an eyebrow as Ethan caught up with him. “I thought you didn't want to come," he said, adjusting his hold on his books. "What made you change your mind?”

Ethan looked at Tom, smirking as his heavy breathing calmed. “Roseanne, I guess."

Tom raised an eyebrow before letting out a scoff as they both started walking down the side walk together.

Cars zipped by, sending gusts of wind hitting their faces. Someone tripped on the other side of the street and a few boys mugged a woman at a corner.

But Ethan wasn't focused on any of that. His thoughts continued to revolve around Blake's face, the mere thought of the jock being so close to him sending shivers down his spine.

Swallowing, he turned to Tom whose gaze never left the cracks on the concrete under them. A habit Ethan still found strange.

“I didn’t know you and Blake lived on the same street,” he said casually, hiding the trembling of his voice with the shuffle of his feet.

Tom, oblivious to the tension curling in Ethan's chest, just shrugged. “Yeah, he’s just a few blocks down.”

Ethan frowned, glancing sideways at him. “And why did he come to you for help and not me?” he asked, even though he knew clearly the answer to the question.

“I guess he saw I'm smarter,” Tom replied with a low chuckle. "Yeah, I'm just kidding. Daniel told him I helped with his assignment and then he met me after.”

"Oh,” Ethan mumbled, his fingers tapping lightly against the strap pressing against his shoulder. “You do seem to know a lot about the guy."

Tom smirked faintly, stretching his arms wide as he turned around to face Ethan. "In case you didn't know,” he said, jogging backward, "observant people survive the chaos of high school longer."

Ethan scoffed, rolling his eyes.

They kept on walking, strolling past a few houses, each one looking nearly identical. They all had trimmed lawns, white fences with basketball hoops over their driveways.

Tom lived on the rich side of the neighborhood—a privilege Ethan was unfortunate to not have.

Soon, the sun began to dip lower in the sky, painting the street in a warm hue of gold. Ethan looked down at his watch—it’d just struck two. He had to be home by six so that he and his brother could cook up—

“Here we are."

Ethan looked up at Tom who'd slowed down. The boy stood still, gesturing toward something before him. Ethan followed his hands to the building before him.

"Whoa,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes widening.

Blake's house was very much larger than the others.

A two stories talk building with gray painting and wide front windows. The driveway was packed with different expensive cars, a few parked crookedly along the curb like whoever had driven it had been in a rush.

The floor underneath the two boys shook as music blasting faintly from inside. Ethan could see smoke curling past the cracks of the windows, fogging up the rooms they opened to.

He felt his chest tighten.

"So…” he muttered, turning to Tom. "Are you knocking or am I?"

Tom rolled his eyes before walking up the steps. Reaching the top, he pressed a finger against a button, ringing the doorbell.

Ethan muttered something under his breath, clutching the strap of his bag as he climbed up after Tom. But just as he got to him stood, the door suddenly whipped open, the suddenness nearly throwing him off-balance.

Blinking, both boys turned to the guy standing by at the doorway. He has a sharp jaw and messy dark hair with high cheekbones that gave him a stark resemblance to Blake Thompson.

He ran a hand down his nose, sniffing as his leaned forward. He was shirtless and built like a train, his chiseled pecs dragging Ethan's gaze. A thin trail of smoke curled lazily from the joint sitting between his fingers.

“Yeah?" he mumbled, squinting at them. “What are you needs doing here?"

“Oh, I'm the guy here to do Blake's assignment," Tom answered calmly, pointing to himself.

The guy placed the joint between his lips and took a long drag, his eyes shifting to Ethan. "And him?” he asked as he exhaled slowly.

That snapped Ethan back as he tore his eyes from his glistening chest.

“Yeah, I'm—”

“A friend," Tom quickly answered before Ethan could finish.

The guy stared at the both of them, his muscles flexing as he leaned off the doorsill.

"Cool,” he said, nodding once. He stepped to the side, waving them in. "Blake's bathing, though. So just… wait upstairs."

They both walked in and the sickening scent of weed and cheap cologne filled their lungs. Music pulsed through the walls, rattling the wooden floor as they headed toward the staircase.

Halfway to the stairs, they passed a closed door. From within came the unmistakable sound of bed springs creaking and the sound of something… clapping.

And then, Roseanne's voice.

It was soft, breathy and close to a moan than a voice. Tom nudged Ethan with his elbow and his ears turned red instantly.

“Still go’n ask her out?" Tom asked, gripping his book tight.

Ethan rolled his eyes as they walked on toward the stairs.

Reaching the steps, Tom walked up first and Ethan followed closely behind him. Lining the walls were framed photographs of Blake's wins in football, with a few family photos mixed in.

Looked like he was even more popular in his family.

At the top of the hallway, they stopped in front of a door. At the top of the wood was a metal nameplate beating Blake's initial etched into it.

Ethan kept on staring at it as Tom pushed the door in.

The room was dim, lit only by the warm light coming from the closed curtain. From somewhere deeper inside came the steady sound of running water as steam curled faintly through the slightly open bathroom door.

Blake was definitely in the bathroom.

Ethan shifted awkwardly near the doorway, gripping the door jamb. But just as he was about to step inside, Tom suddenly slapped his forehead.

“Shit!" he cursed.

Ethan turned to him, a frown on his face. “What’s it?”

Tom sighed, pulling his books from under his arm. “I forgot my fucking calculator.”

Before Ethan could suggest they use his, Tom had already turned around and started jogging back toward the stairs.

"Tom, wait—”

But it was already too late.

His footsteps disappeared down the hallway, leaving Ethan alone in Blake Thompson’s room with the sound of water still running in the bathroom.