STORY 2

Holly stumbled back home as the howling wind blew through her light brown hair—her pencil-thin dress was all that was keeping her covered from the autumn weather.

Her high heels tapped against the sidewalk as she rubbed her arms to gather as little warmth as she could.

Today was the freshman ball, a party where college first years would come together and mingle in a black-tie setting.

It was dull and boring, though it felt nice to dress up for once. Her bright red dress and high heels were gathering dust in the bad of her closet, and Holly was surprised she still fit in them.

She turned the corner to her house—it was late in the evening and her mom was probably asleep. Holly was excited to warm up a plate of pasta since the only thing to eat at the ball was some finger snacks and soda.

Holly walked up to her door, jiggling the knob.

“Fuck...” She cursed under her breath. She had explicitly told her mother not to lock the door, since she wasn’t planning on bringing a purse to carry her keys.

She contemplated ringing the doorbell to wake up her mother, but as a single parent, her mother barely got any sleep as it is.

Glancing over to the house next door, her neighbor—Mr Terry Brook, had his kitchen lights on.

Mr Brook was a friendly old man who mostly kept to himself though he was always kind to Holly and her mother. Despite his age, My Brook always seemed to be able to keep up with her antics growing up. Now he was in his 60s and she was 19 years old, and even still he is able to keep up with her when they go jogging around the neighborhood together.

She rang his doorbell, shivering on his doorstep as she heard the man slowly approaching.

The door creaked open as Mr Brook peered outside. His white hair was slicked back, and his spotty face was hidden by the shadow of his backlighting.

“Oh... Holly? What are you doing up at this hour?” He said with a welcoming smile.

“Hey, Mr Brook. I’m so sorry, but I was coming back from an event and I seem to be locked out of my house. I was hoping it wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience—”

Before she could finish, Mr Brooks swung the door open. “Come in my dear! I’ll have the guest room made up in just a jiffy!”

Holly grinned from ear to ear, happily retreating into the warmth of his house. The soft scent of cinnamon filled the air as she noticed a tea kettle ringing on the stove. Mr Brook’s home was so clean and quaint, she hadn’t been inside it in ages.

The old man shuffled up the stairs, not even needing the railings to help guide him. He didn’t seem like he was in his 60s at all.

He wore a tight white t-shirt and boxer shorts. Holly couldn’t help but glance at his muscular thighs as he entered the upstairs guest room.

In his youth, the man must have taken outstanding care of his body—and it showed.

Holly took off her high heels and walked to the living room while he got the guest room ready. Old vinyls lined the shelves of his living room— with an old-timey record player resting on the table.

Framed and signed posters of bands she was too young to recognize lined the walls and while the rug on the floor had a colorful and frankly—ugly pattern, it seemed to fit the vibe of the room perfectly.

“Alright sweetheart, the room is all ready.” He said, walking down the stairs.

Holly was browsing through the expansive shelf of vinyls, picking out a particularly intriguing one.

“Ever listened to vinyls before?” He asked, leaning against the wall.

Holly shook her head, admiring the colorful cover art—an embodiment of the 80s.

“Perhaps we could listen to a song or two, I have some cinnamon chai on the stove.” Mr Brook said.

Holly grinned, nodding her head as she placed the vinyl on the table. The older man grabbed it, taking out the disk. “Ahh, good choice. This one is my favorite.”

The needle fell onto the disk as the romantic, slow music filled the ambient air.

Holly sat on the couch, brushing down her red dress as Mr Brook took his seat next to her, humming along to the soft melody.

Holly had taken her heels off at the door, and her bare feet tapped against the carpeted floor as she let the music fill her ears.

Her eyes were fixated on Mr Brook, who seemed to be teleported back to younger days as the man leaned back on the couch—eyes closed as he hummed away.

She tucked her wavy brown hair behind her ears as she leaned back, closing her eyes to let herself drown in the music.

Holly didn’t even realize that Mr Brooks's hand had slipped onto her thigh. Her soft eyes fluttered open as she glanced down, a wave of blush filling her cheeks.

His hand gripped her leg, a shiver shot up Holly’s spine as she stared at his hand digging into her soft skin.

Her breath stuttered and her mind was racing. His hand was at the bottom of her skirt, inches above her knee. His rugged touch against her delicate skin made her heart pound—she couldn’t pretend to ignore it.