I pushed open the heavy black doors of the side entrance to my apartment building. I turned the corner and shuffled down the red-brick path. I stopped at the end of the rusted white railing. It had down-poured earlier that day, so I examined the area beneath my white flip flops, and found a dry spot on the pavement of my mom’s parking space. I flopped my flowery overnight bag on the ground, and I threw my off-white purse over my left shoulder. I pulled open the silver zipper and rummaged through the inside of my tote, until I found my green iPod nano. I’d begun to unravel the tangle ear buds, which belonged to my best friend’s ex-boyfriend. He’d left them at her house once, but they later broke-up, so she offered them to me. I was in the middle of untying a tight knot, when I heard someones footsteps walking closer to me. I raised my head, which was heavy on my neck after looking down for 5 minutes. Right away, I noticed him.

He stood in front of me. He wore his signature plaid bermudas, flip flops and a white Hollister logo t-shirt. I’d seem him around the complex before, though I’ve never talked to him. But I already had a name for him. Danielle (my aforementioned best friend) and I created the nickname. He reminded us both of a guy from our old grade 8 class, David. Alas, David-lookalike. Hell, if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he was the original David’s long lost older brother.

David-lookalike wasn’t as attractive as the real one. His face wasn’t as friendly. Not necessarily mean either, but his smile was a smirk, and his eye’s were frighteningly piercing. However, he was obviously older than the David I knew, which instantly made him more appealing. This guy had very short, blond hair, which he probably gelled to make it spiky. His face was blemish-free, complete with a perfect light shade, but his arms and legs were slightly tan. Judging by the lacrosse stick that he wielded in his arms, I guessed he had an exceptionally toned core.

“Hey.”
His voice was deep and raspy – pretty seductive if you asked me. I returned his ‘Hey.’

We looked at each other for what felt like 60 seconds (real time: no more than 5.) I watched his intense eyes study me, moving up and down. Suddenly, I became very self-conscious. I worried if my hair was wind-blown; wondered if I should have retouched my foundation before I came outside. I felt the moment getting awkward, so I took a stab at conversation.

“What did you say your name was?”
His eyes travelled back up my body, meeting with mine again.

“I didn’t tell you my name.”
Shot and miss.

“Right…” I said, feeling defeated.
“That’s just something you’ll find out in time.”
Was he flirting, uninterested, or just plain creepy? My mind couldn’t decide. So, I tried to lighten the mood and my comedic skills.

“I suppose you’re expecting me to work for it, correct?”
His green eyes got a little bigger, and the corners of his mouth curled up as he smirked.

“Ah, you’re very witty! I was actually expecting you to tell me yours first – but I think I like your idea much better.”
I felt lighter as I breathed a silent sigh of relief. He wasn’t creepy, or mean. He just had a unique sense of humor. I smiled at him – drawing blank for words. He saved the conversation by saying,
“but if there’s anything else you’d like to know, I’d be more than willing to share.”
“When did you move here?” I inquired.
“April, towards the end.”
“Oh April – that’s my birth month!”
“Funny… mine too. What day’s yours?”
Wouldn’t it be weird if we shared the same birthday, I thought to myself.

“The twenty-fourth. Yours?”
“Nineteenth, of ninety-two.”
So he was seventeen. Not bad. But the important question was, could he drive?
“So you must be going into your last year of high school, eh? I’m about to be a sophomore, at St. Stephens.”
Yeah, I didn’t bother with the driving thing. What good was that information to me anyways? It’s not like he’d ever be taking me for a ride.
“You mean you’re only fifteen? Wow, I thought you were my age, just a late bloomer.”
I paused for a moment to decode his sentence. Did he mean ‘late bloomer’ as in, I had a small chest? Or was he referring to my standing at only 5′5? Well either way, I concluded, he was insulting me.
“Hey! Not cool, dude!”
That was lame, I immediately said to myself.

Mr. No-Name quickly changed the topic, asking me what the deal was with my overnight bag.
“I’m staying with my grandparents for a bit.”
“How come?”
“My mom’s away for a few nights.”
“Where’d she go?”
“To some cabin in God-knows-where, with her boyfriend.”
“And why do you have to leave too?”
“My mom doesn’t trust me to hold down the apartment while she’s gone.”
“And why’s that?”

I told him that he sure asks alot of questions. He innocently shrugged his shoulders,
“I guess I’m just curious. About you.”
I’m pretty sure my cheek’s grew rosier at that moment. I tried not to let my eyes bulge any wider. Then, before either of us could say another word, my grandmother pulled up in her grey Pontiac Vibe. I held up my right hand and stuck up my index finger to show her I’d be there in a minute.

“Well, that’s my ride. Guess I gotta go.”
He looked down for a second, then back at me.
“When will you be home?”
“Sunday, I’m pretty sure.”
“Hopefully I’ll see you then.”
He winked at me.
I bent over to pick up my bag. I grabbed both of the 2 worn, brown handles.
“Yeah, you… you will.”
I couldn’t control my stammer.

I took a couple steps toward the car. I was about to reach for the passenger door handle when I heard him clear his throat. I glanced back at him.
Then, he said,
“By the way, I’m Ryan.”