Two

I hadn't seen Maddox for the entire week. He just sort of disappeared. So naturally, I'd be a little worried on Friday afternoon. I'd already donned my party clothes and was more than ready to go.

With a denim jacket in my hands, I left my room. I was really hoping that his parents said yes or else I was going to have Uber to Durban North. And that would have cost me a lot of money.

I made my way to the kitchen, my ankle boots clacking on the tiled floor. It was a warm afternoon so I had been perspiring since I left the shower. I thought a glass of cool water would come to my aid.

As I slugged down the water, the doorbell rang. I almost choked on the water. Oh, please let it be Maddox, I thought. I dropped the glass into the sink and speed-walked to the front door. I swung the door open and smiled in relief.

"You're here," I said eagerly. My eyebrows drew together. "Thought you weren't going to show up. You're a hard man to find, Maddox."

Maddox stood on my porch with a nervous smile on his face. I gave him a once over.

"You're not wearing that, are you?" I asked.

He was wearing a pair of shapeless jeans and a worn-out T-shirt with the DC Comics logo on it. The only thing decent on him was his fashionable sneakers.

He looked down at his clothes. "What's wrong with my clothes?"

"Okay, look at what I'm wearing versus what you're wearing. We are going to the same place."

His eyes slowly raked over my body and he blushed a few seconds later. I had a mustard tank top on with high-waist black jeans. The outfit hugged me in all the right places. "I see your point. If you'd just give me ten minutes, I can go change."

"I'm coming with you. You're going to need my help," I said cheekily, cocking my hip. "Come on. We can afford to be fashionably late."

○○○

The boy had no clothes. I mean, he had clothes but they were not presentable. I rummaged through his closet once more and let out a breath of frustration when I realised my search was futile.

I turned around. Maddox was lying on his bed with his eyes closed. "Maddox!" I practically shrieked.

He didn't react for a few moments but he leisurely sat up like a cat with a bored expression on his face. "You didn't have to yell. I'm awake."

"How in the world do you not have a decent shirt in here? You've got tons of," I struggled to find the words, "of comic-book-themed shirts! How do you not have a plain T-shirt?"

He shrugged. "I'm a fan of comic books. Especially DC Comics; they're great," he said.

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock," I mumbled. Then louder this time, "I can't believe I'm saying this but you're going to have to go like that."

A laugh escaped his mouth. "This is what I planned to wear in the first place." He saw the expression on my face and sighed. "There is something I could wear. It's in the guest bedroom. I could go try it on."

"Please and thank you," I responded.

He mumbled something under his breath and rolled his eyes. He got up from his bed and left the room. I took his place on the bed, closing my eyes.

I didn't know how long it had been but I felt something tap my nose. I wrinkled it. I hated it when people touched my face. Sitting up, I yawned and opened my eyes. And my eyes continued to open until they resembled saucers.

There stood Maddox looking quite . . . hot. He was wearing a forest green t-shirt and black ripped jeans. In his hands was a black leather jacket and black combat boots completed the look. What surprised me the most was the fact that he wasn't wearing his glasses.

"Uh," was the only thing I could utter.

"What? It doesn't look good?" he asked, looking down at his clothes. "I thought that this could be the deal-breaker."

I closed my mouth and shook my head. "No, no, you look amazing—I mean, good. Good. Where—who bought it?" I sputtered like an idiot.

"My aunt. She travels a lot for work and always buys me clothes. I never wear them." He crossed his arms—which I noticed were muscular. "Wait, are you blushing?" he questioned, sounding way too cocky.

I scoffed. "Of course not. Black people don't blush."

"Well, yeah, it's hard to see your cheeks go red but the expression on your face . . . you look flustered."

"Whoa, hold on. Just because you have a leather jacket and combat boots on, doesn't mean you can be some cocky pretty-boy now. Where is the shy boy I met on Monday?"

He scowled. "I wasn't shy."

"You were awkward," I countered.

"Whatever."

"Just a question because I'm concerned about my safety: where are your glasses?"

"I don't need them," he answered, walking over to a mirror on the back of his door.

"But—"

"They're reading glasses. I just get lazy to take them off," he explained.

He got lazy to take them off? I didn't buy it, but I chose to say nothing.

As he fixed his hair, I realised my friends were right: he was a hunk. I knew the mission for the night was to bat the girls off him. I couldn't let him go off and get drunk with some girl. He was our ride home.

"Come on, Maddox. It's a long drive to Durban North," I said, jumping off his bed.

I sashayed to his door where he was still standing. His cockiness was no longer there. He looked timid.

"Hey," I said softly. "Don't be nervous. Trust me when I say barely anyone will pay attention to you. They'll most likely be drunk."

He huffed. "That isn't comforting whatsoever."

When we left the house, Maddox turned on the alarm system. I questioned why he did this.

"My parents aren't going to be here until tomorrow evening and Collette is sleeping over at her friend's house," he explained as we made our way over to the black 4x4.