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Steve drives through town and ends up in a nicer area of our New Jersey town.

“Here we are. Don’t mind, it’s a mess…” He smirks as he opens the door.

“It’s better than nothing.” I walk inside.

“Make yourself at home, I’m gonna shower.” He tells me, walking into the bathroom.

I sit down on the couch and turn on the TV. It’s on MTV and it’s Retro MTV, an episode of “The Hills” is on. I change the channel and settle on the History Channel. Gotta love Modern Marvels.

I’m awfully hungry, I haven’t eaten since around noon today.

Steve comes out of the bathroom in a ginny tee and shorts. “You need to shower?”

“That would be awesome, actually.” I stand up. He shows me where all the towels and wash cloths are and I wonder if he lives by himself, this place is so tidy, I thought he said it was a mess!

I lock the bathroom door behind me and sit on the toilet. This is all too much to take in. I start to cry as I think about what all happened today. Does this kid expect something from me? Sex? Hell no, if that’s what he wants I better get the hell out of here.

I step into the shower and let the warm water stream down my body.

I emerge from the bathroom a half hour later and the couch is pulled out into a bed and made up. Steve is laying down, watching TV.

He looks up and smiles, “hey, you find everything you need?”

“Yes, thank you.” I reply.

“You can get my bed tonight, unless you’d feel more comfortable out here.” He tells me, standing up.

“I’ll take the couch, I’d hate to impose, Steve.”

“Are you sure? It’s no imposition.” He’s walking around the couch towards me.

“I’m positive. It’s nice enough of you to let me stay the night.” I tell him.

“Look, that’s what I wanted to talk about. You have no where to go? No family?” He sits on the couch once more. I sit down next to him.

“I don’t know my family. I’m a foster kid.” I admit.

His eyes lock on mine, “Okay. Would you like to stay here? I can set up the guest bedroom on my day off and have it ready for you next week.”

“Oh, I don’t know…” I look at my hands. Why is he being so nice?

“I’m offering.”

“You don’t know me. Why are you being so nice?” I ask.

“I do know you. We went to school together for a year or so. I was a senior and oyu were a freshman.” He tells me.

“Oh, I didn’t know many people.” I say.

“You hung out with Samantha Ramone.” He tells me.

“No, I didn’t. She was just in the same foster care as me.”

“Well, regardless, you’re not a murderer.” He laughs.

“Okay. But my first paycheck, I’m giving you some rent money.” I say.

“We’ll work that all out when the time comes. In the mean time, catch some shut eye.” He winks, walking off to his bedroom. He turns around quickly, “If you want something to eat or drink, seriously, help yourself.” He points towards the kitchen as he walks off to bed.

I jump up and run into the kitchen. I laugh at how childish that was. I open the refrigerator and pour myself a cup of orange juice and grab a banana and peel it. I bite down and savor the flavor, so good.

It’s really weird, I’m going to be staying at a strangers. It’s sort of like, my first sleepover. This is all so weird and way too much to handle. I wash my empty cup and put it in the drainboard and make my way back to the couch. I fall asleep instantly. It’s been such a long day.

I wake up a few hours later and look at the cable box. 9:05am. I smell bacon and sausage. My mouth starts to water. I roll over and see Steve cooking up breakfast in the kitchen. He has two plates set on the table, two glasses of milk and two glasses of orange juice. He smiles when he notices me waking up.

“Hope you like, eggs, bacon, sausage and french toast.”

“It smells soooo good.” I laugh.

“Of course it does. I excel outside of sandwich making.” He laughs and motions for me to sit down.

We sit across from each other and eat breakfast, diving straight into conversation like we’ve known each other for years.

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