A Brand New Day - Thursday

Nick jerked away, ZZ Top in his right ear belting out Gimme All Your Lovin’. He blinked in the darkness, turning his head to the side, he looked at the digital display on his clock, 3:27.

Running a hand over his face, he removed the one bud still in his ear and turned on the lamp, shadows streaking across the unfamiliar landscape of his new room.

Turning off the iPod, he sat up in bed, swiveling his legs over the side.

Needing to take leak, he stood up and ambled across the room toward the door and out down the hall, entering the bathroom before turning on the light and moving over to the toilet.

Lifting the oval shaped white plastic seat, he leaned back and unbuckled his pants, before urinating into the clear water in the immaculate bowl. When he was done, he shook off, tucking himself away but leaving his pants unbuttoned before reaching forward and flushing the toilet, other hand on the top of the toilet seat. After a moment of consideration, he released the toilet seat, deciding to deliberately leave it up as a passive aggressive display of defiance. Snickering to himself, he walked out of the bathroom, clicking off the light and returning to his room before dropping his pants and taking off his shirt. Pulling off his socks, he pulled the blanket back and crawled under the sheets and turned off the lamp.

Laying there, the unfamiliar noises emanating from around the house kept him from slipping back into sleep. Up above, it sounded like Asha, or something big was moving around on the floor, shuffling sounds, like someone on hands and knees. What the hell is she doing up there? It’s bloody three thirty in the freaking morning!

Rolling onto his side, he sandwiched his head between the two pillows to quiet the noise. Still wearied, eventually he was able to fall back asleep.

At 5:30 the radio came to life, the tail end of The Marshall Tucker Band singing Can’t You See before a man’s voice declared Classic Hits, KVPI 92.5.

Mouth dry, Nick looked at the clock, reaching over in the darkness and fumbling with the little button on the side of the clock to shut it off before reaching up and turning on the light.

Getting up, he got dressed and completed his morning ablutions before heading upstairs into the kitchen, opening and closing cabinet doors looking for the cereal his father had mentioned the evening previous.

“What are you doing?” he heard Asha ask from the doorway.

Turning, he looked at the girl. Dressed in a skin tight pair of faded denim jeans worn through in patches across both thighs and a short sleeved white top, she kept her long dark hair pinned back. “My dad, Marty said there was some cereal here someplace,” he answered.

“Here,” she said, coming into the kitchen, carrying a subtle hint of Dolce Gabanna The One in her wake.

Stepping aside, the fragrance playing with his olfactory senses as she passed, he watched as she showed him where to find what he was after. Cereal, bowl, spoon. “Make sure you rinse out your bowl and put it in there when you’re done,” she advised, pointing a delicate finger toward the sink.

Nodding, “What were you doing up there last night, having a seizure or something?” he asked as he poured himself a bowl of Cheerios.

“Sorry?” she inquired, quizzical expression on her face, a quirky smile playing at the side of her mouth.

“Last night, I don’t know, around 3:30 maybe, it sounded like you were flopping around on the floor,” he said, setting the box down and rolling up the plastic bag inside.

“I didn’t realize you were under me,” she said with a smile, the tip of her pink tongue playing at the corner of her mouth.

He frowned, debating whether or not to challenge her and call bullshit.

“Wait a minute,” she said, brightening, “Was that you making a fuss down there earlier in the night last evening?” she asked, leaning across the counter from him, breasts straining to spill out of her top.

He nodded slowly, trying extremely hard to keep his eyes focused on her face and not gaze into the shadowed space between the rounded globes of her cleavage.

She pouted, “You must think I’m awful, stomping away on top of you,” she said, green eyes glinting, pout transforming into a smile.

At least she owned it. “Hey, no worries, you know, I’ll try and keep my noise level down too,” he said, circling around the counter to get the container of milk out of the fridge.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you will be as quiet as a little mouse,” she said, chuckling softly as she seemed to glide effortlessly out of the room.

Shaking his head, he splashed milk into his bowl and set the plastic gallon jug on the counter before munching away at the cereal. That was weird.