Tristan

The water in the creek no longer has my attention. I'm too busy trying to pull myself together and possibly have a conversation with this guy who just randomly approached me.

God, this is embarrassing.

Logan, he said his name was Logan.

"Soo... Long day, I'm guessing?"

"Yeah, you know...just family stuff..."

"Sorry man... I get it. Family can be tough sometimes, but don't let it get you down."

"I mean, this is the best time of the year, don't you think?"

I notice his eyes surveying the park and taking everything in.

"Just look at this park. It's beautiful, so colorful, like, look at that tree over there for a second..."

I direct my gaze in the direction his finger is pointing. It's a red maple. I know this because I've always loved these trees in particular, so I've researched them in the past. I used to collect the leaves. The ways the colors blend throughout them have always been so mesmerizing to me.

"It is beautiful," I respond, now getting lost in the enchanting essence of the park.

My problems seem so insignificant at this moment now that I'm drawn in by the beauty of the view surrounding me.

"See, not so bad." He chuckles and I feel a light push on my shoulder.

My attention breaks away from the landscape of the park, and that's when I notice him, but really notice him this time.

I take a second to take him in. He's not like the other guys around here; he's a bit more... edgy, yeah, that's it, he has an edge.

His clothes are loose-fitted and tattered, but I think it's on purpose. I think it's his style.

His black and curly hair has what appears to be a single dread towards the back, and he has decorated it with colorful beads.

His eyes are dark, a unique shade of brown right on the cusp of black, with a wet glow that's unexplainably calling to my soul.

The sweet scent wafting through the air must be emanating from his skin, some type of cologne or body oil that smells entirely magical.

He's wearing eyeliner and a lot of random jewelry, and my eyes dart from piece to piece, taking it all in.

Several necklaces dangle from his neck, and as he adjusts one of his crystal pendants, I can't help but notice the several bracelets and rings he is also sporting, all decorated with some type of unfamiliar symbolism or gemstone.

I can tell he is spiritual, and I find it intriguing, utterly intriguing.

"Uh, Tristan, you, ok?"

I laugh nervously and redirect my eyes quickly to the ground.

"Yeah, sorry, just... uh, your necklaces are pretty cool. I kind of have a crystal collection of my own..."

Ugh, that was stupid. See, this is why you have no friends.

Who wants to talk to a grown man who collects crystals?

"Really? No way! You should come check out my mom's shop sometime. We actually just moved here. Most of the pieces I'm wearing I've gotten from her shop or made myself."

He pulls what looks like a business card from his back pocket, and I feel my face break out into a huge grin as I reach out to take it.

Maybe it's not such a bad day after all...

I take a quick look at the card and slide it into the pocket of my jeans.

"Thanks, I'll definitely stop by and check it out."

"No problem. You know, seeing as I'm new here and you're technically my first friend, maybe we can hang out sometime?"

"You know, maybe show me around a bit?"

"I'd love to." I blurt out instantaneously.

God, I'm so awkward.

He chuckles.

I notice his smile, and he becomes even more charming as the gloss in his eyes becomes even more prominent and alluring.

Okay, he doesn't think I'm weird, Thank God.

"Cool, I have some pretty awesome crystals of my own and a few duplicates that could use a new home."

"I'd appreciate that," I respond, trying to keep a neutral tone.

"First day, and a new friend. I'd count that as a win."

He reaches out his fist, and I quickly follow his action, connecting my fist with his.

"Totally."

"Okay, Trist, it was nice meeting you. Hopefully, I'll see you at the shop soon. The store hours are listed on the card. I've got to get back. My mom's making dinner, and if I miss family time, she'll lose it."

"Nice to meet you too, Logan. I'll definitely be there. See ya."

"See ya."

I watch as he walks away.

What am I doing?

Why am I being weird?

There's just something about this guy, but I can't put my finger on it.

I reach into my pocket and pull out the card he handed me... Fay's Fantasies, let your life journey be magical...

If only I could find magic in a drab little town like this.

You know what, Tristan, let's not be negative.

As I put the card back into my pocket, I can smell the scent of his cologne brushing past my nose, and it sends tingles dancing across my skin.

Okay, what the hell is going on with me?

I need to get out of here.

I need to get home.

I take one last look out into the creek before I make my way off the tiny wooden bridge, head out of Cobblestone Park, and go back to my home, anticipating my mother's rage once again.

The walk home was the same as the way there, except this time, my mind was spinning with thoughts about Logan.

Who is he? And why has this one interaction made such an impact?

I wonder what his mom is like...

Is she just as interesting?

Do they have the same kind of style?

I wonder what his old town was like.

Are there more people like him?

Is it a local thing, or does he stand out just as much there?

Does he have a girlfriend?

Wait, what?

Why do I care?

Before I know it, the questions about Logan have distracted me so much that when I finally snap out of it, I'm back at my house and decide to head back in the same way I left, through the dirt path along the side of my house and through my window.

I attempt to pry the window open as quietly as possible so I can sneak back into my room quietly and undetected, but I quickly realize that it is locked, which means my mother has noticed I'm gone, and I'm in for it once again.

Unfortunately, getting screamed at twice in one night is not that uncommon for me, so I do my best to mentally prepare myself for her rage as I make my way to the front door.

It's ok, Tristan. Maybe she'll be asleep, and the door will magically be unlocked.

Yeah, right.

Who am I kidding?

Maybe if she'd just give me a freaking key...

I approach the front door and ring the doorbell, holding my head down, hoping that if I hide my face, she won't be triggered. For some reason, I feel like making direct eye contact with her gets her even angrier, but maybe that's all in my head.

I hear the top lock twist, followed by the click of the bottom doorknob. It's a smoother gesture than I was anticipating, and I feel myself starting to calm down a bit.

She can't be that angry. Usually, she'd forcefully try to pry the door open, not even noticing that it was locked, which just helps elevate her fury.

The door is gently pulled open, revealing my mother standing behind it with a strange look on her face.

She is not angry but calm, a calm that you can tell is being forced. For what reason, I don't know.

"Hey Tristan, we need to have a talk..."

Oh gosh, here we go...

She gestures for me to come in, and I take a seat on the sofa. She joins me, still quiet but forcefully calm.

I take a deep breath and attempt to explain.

"Mom, I'm sorry. I just needed to go for a walk to get some fresh air. I'm always..."

"Shhh..." she cuts me off.

I see her swallow hard and try to maintain her disposition.

"Tristan, you know I love you, right?"

"Y-yes, I love you too, Mom."

"I know, honey, but while you are here, I have rules..."

"I've raised you the right way, and I do not condone witchcraft or any type of devil's work in my home..."

"But mom, it's not devil work it..."

"Tristan!" she screams.

There goes the anger.

"Whatever you want to call it, I don't like the idea of it in my home."

"When you get your own place, you can feel free to pray to all the rocks you want and build little blasphemous shrines, but while you're here, you will follow my rules."

"Understand?"

"Yes, Mom," I mumble.

"Okay, good, and since we're on the topic..."

Oh god, what now...

"I need you to get a job, Tristan. You are nineteen, and you decided not to go to college. You need to be doing something around here. I need the help. I can't afford to support both of us on my own. I already do so much overtime, and we're still struggling to make it..."

"I know, Mom, I'm trying..."

"Well, I need you to try a little harder, and also, please let me know when you leave the house. It's called courtesy, Tristan."

"Okay, but do you think I can get a key? I can just borrow yours and make a copy. There's a place down the street..."

I notice her starting to turn red as she stands up off the couch to look down at me; she's always looking down at me.

"You had a key, Tristan. Maybe if you were more responsible, you would still have it..."

"What do you want us to get robbed? Just dropping keys all around all willy-nilly?"

I can feel myself grow irritated, but I bite my tongue.

It's the only way to keep the peace.

"Tell you what, when you get that job, you get your key back, and please don't leave the windows open. You're basically giving access to our home to the entire neighborhood."

I notice her reaching for her wineglass on the side table and pouring herself a drink, and that is my queue to make my exit.

"Okay, Mom, sounds fair. Is there anything else?"

"Don't get smart with me. By the way, I left you dinner in the kitchen, and no, nothing else, you can go."

I feel a sense of relief as I hop off the couch and make my way to the kitchen to heat up my dinner in the microwave. My mom might be a little off, but she's an excellent cook.

I bring my plate of roast beef, veggies, and mashed potatoes to my room and quickly change my clothes before sitting down at my desk to eat.

My day has been so strange that I didn't even realize how hungry I was and quickly scarf down my meal before making myself comfortable in my bed.

As soon as my head hits my pillow and I close my eyes, the thoughts of my day start to rush in, but not just any thoughts, thoughts about him, thoughts about Logan.

I wonder if he's just as curious about me as I am about him.

Could I finally have found someone who gets me?

...

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