As I wobble down the stairs, I can smell freshly made breakfast wafting in the air. It smells amazing and I can feel my stomach growling. As I come into the kitchen there are two plates piled with french toast, coupled with eggs, bacon, and a glass of milk. I take a seat, thanking him as I eat in silence. Today is the first day at my new job and I'm excited to say that I'll be a waiter at the diner I came to on my first day. It seems nice enough. 

"Are you excited?"

I nod, scooting my food around on my plate, feeling a little anxious as I mull over the unfamiliar faces of this town. The rest of our meal is quiet as I think over the small vacation I've had before my mind wanders to less exciting things. "What will you do today? Do you have any errands to run or anything at your house?"

He shrugs, glancing at his plate, "My house takes care of itself. I'll stay here and work on painting the outside of the house. It's all that is left before we can start on the small patio."

So that's what I agreed to, I guess. I fiddle with my fork after finishing my plate, pondering on what to do next before he takes my empty plate and my fork, putting them in the sink. He comes around to his seat again, sitting beside me as he eyes my face. It's a little unnerving, but not terrible and I laugh quietly at nothing in particular. It feels so awkward as I move to adjust my clothes, dark jeans and a blue shirt. They said casual was the dress code, but I'm not sure how casual. Anthony suddenly hops out of his chair, grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the house at a pace that I can barely keep up with as easily as he takes it. There's a gleam in his eyes as he looks back, slowing down to let me keep up. His playfulness and brightness is almost as warm as the sun, filling me with a soft glow that causes heat to radiate along my body. "I'll walk with you to work!"

The entire way there, he only talks about Mike, the owner of the diner. Mike is a middle aged guy that's a little heavyset, but mostly because hes almost seven feet tall, his build like that of a giant. The way Anthony describes him is akin to that of a father. He also owns a gym in town, spending his free time there with his brother, who is equally as tall and impressionable. As we approach the diner, it is in full swing. Who knew there were this many people in town. I'll be working mornings since the students take the afternoon shifts. As Anthony said, Mike is a big and intimidating man, but with the gentle handshake of a kind and softhearted friend. Orientation is quick, only taking a few minutes to have me out on the floor and with the help of customers, I quickly fall into the swing of things. 

By the third hour, I've memorized the simple menu and most of the shorthand, sitting down for my small break as I am across from Mike, who insists that I call him M for short. I'm not sure why it needs to be even shorter, but I go along with his wishes. As he writes out my schedule for the next week, I notice that he has also written down my pay rate, his telephone number, and a small list of items needed for each shift.

"Alright, bud. Today was just training and I can already tell you have a really good grasp on what you're doing. Here's your first schedule. Next schedule you'll be on the official sheet. If you would like to continue working, I can send home Ashley, she's the young blonde over there, or you can go home and come back tomorrow for your first shift. How are you feeling about the job?"

I give an award winning smile, "I love it. It's really similar to my old job and I enjoy the people in this town. Everyone is really nice and understanding. I think I'll come back tomorrow and go home today. I don't want to take anyone's hours."

Mike slaps the table and grins, "Feel free to visit our gym. My employees have free memberships, now go and enjoy the rest of your day," wishing me well as he hops up and walks behind the counter. As I yawn, I dread the walk home. I really need to find some form of reliable transportation. I can already hear M's hearty laugh echoing through the kitchen as I stretch my legs, walking through the front of the building after signing the time sheet. After what feels like forever, I finally arrive at the front steps of my home, but I don't see Anthony anywhere outside. The side of the house is halfway completed and it looks really nice. Hm. I should give him something for helping me, but what does he even like? 

As I step into the house, I hear water running in the kitchen and find him getting a cup and filling it. He's standing there in my kitchen, his shirt tossed over his shoulder as sweat plasters his hair to his forehead. I try to keep my mind on the new rules and information from my job as I make us both sandwiches for lunch. "How is the painting coming along?"

"Ah, there's so much to do. It's a big place." I can't really remember when I started looking at him, but I carefully focus on his neck, avoiding his eyes and the rest of his heavenly body as much as I can. The Adam's apple jumping along with the gulps of water is just as dangerous to look at as the rest of his body, causing me to break away and nervously scratch an imaginary itch at the back of my head. "Hey, how's your first day at work?"

"Oh, it was nice. M is exactly like you described. The work itself is easy enough and all of the customers are kind. I think I'll enjoy it."

The small talk we have that is usually coated in an awkward glaze is light and easy today. "What do you do for work, Anthony? You've been here every day since I've moved in and I never see you leave for anything other than the occasional food and supply stock."

He shrugs, flashing his grand smile, "I just do work when I have to. People in town need help sometimes and I do it. That gets me all I need."

As he moves through the kitchen I realize that I have been holding this bag of carrots the whole time. I scold myself for being so absent minded and grab the ranch from the fridge, deciding to have a snack instead. I follow the stairwell up, coming into my room to change into trash clothes before heading outside to help finish painting the side of the house. As I come around the corner, Anthony is singing, humming between the words of whatever song he's been captured by and proving to me that there is at least one thing that isn't perfect about this boy I've become so enamored with. I laugh, skipping across the grass in my ragged shorts and old tee shirt as he stops singing and appears surprised. "Wow. I thought all you had in there was nice clothes and fancy shoes." The way his jaw is hanging hardly hides the smile tugging at the edges of his lips. 

"I don't normally look so casual. I have to do something to look attractive after all." The awkward laugh that jumps out of my throat should be put on trial. Scratch that, I should be put on trial. There's nothing wrong with looking well dressed and any self deprecating humor isn't necessary to cover that up. Passing up a ladder that will surely lead to my ultimate demise, I grab a shorter handle brush and start at the bottom of the wall. Making my intentions clear, I point across the bottom, "I'll do this part. You can do the top half that I can't reach. We can finish this side today." There's a short pause as I adjust my shirt, "Will you keep singing? I like it . . ."

The lack of expression in his face is odd, considering his endless smile and enthusiasm. He almost looks as if he were thinking about something to say, but ultimately decides against it as he nods, smiling. His humming stretches on between us as the fresh paint runs across the wood, the sound of brushes littered in with the sounds of nature around us. He moves from different songs to different genres with ease, the once pleasant melodies coming out in slightly different keys, but keeping us both in good spirits as the work melts into something more like a dance.

As we finish the side of the house, the sun is hanging low against the treetops, leaving the last thirty minutes of light to us as a courtesy to check our handiwork. I'll admit mostly Anthony's handiwork. The accomplishment is a small one compared to the space left to cover, but I celebrate it all the same, my hands at my cheeks as I smile once again, officially breaking my record for most smiles in a year.

"You know, whatever you put on somethin' beautiful, it'll always be beautiful."

I laugh, "It is beautiful. I thought it was beautiful before we painted it, too." I look over to find his eyes level with mine. 

"I wasn't talkin' about the house." He hesitated for a long moment, only a foot away from me, but in his eyes I'm drowning. I can't find my way out and everything in my heart is spiraling out of control. I'm lost at his gaze and the restraint inside of myself crumbles. Emotions that I can't stop are taking root along my chest and the dark edges around his golden eyes are like a vacuum, drawing me out of my body and lifting my heart into my throat. He turns towards the house after what feels like an hour, but surely was only a minute, throwing me back into reality as I feel myself swallowing my heart back down to its' proper residence. I take a moment to strap it into place, pep talking myself back into control and taming the wildfire that's blazing across my face. I should feel ashamed for letting this boy have so much control over my own emotions. I walk at a snail's pace, prolonging the path to the front door as I pat the sides of my thighs with my hands, willing this tingling under my skin to fade away. As I walk in, I hear the fridge close and I find him collecting ingredients for a sandwich, content with only meat and bread it seems. 

"I could make you a real meal . . . T-that's if you would like to stay for dinner. Unless it's too late. I can just make you something quick. But if you're staying the night again, I'd like to make you something better than a sandwich. You've done so much to help me and I can't think of a better way to-"

The words just spew out, my anxiety getting the better of me as I stumble over my own presence, my head tilting down as my eyes trail to the floor. I'm almost mumbling to myself as he puts the sandwich fixings away. I don't even notice his movements until he has picked my face up with both hands, his fingers brushing along my cheeks and cupping the sides of my face. Whatever was going to come out of my mouth has jammed in my throat, traffic stretching for miles into my belly as all of the words come together in a jumble of letters and all that comes out is, "Yeh?" Not even I know what I mean, but his bright teeth and soft lips break into an amazing smile that sends my heart into a frenzy against my ribs. Maybe it was how close he was or maybe it was his warm expression or maybe, just maybe, I am losing my mind, but the tilt of his head and the way his voice lowered slightly as he whispered made little goosebumps skitter across my flesh and colored my face like a rose. 

"I'd love to stay for dinner, Dante."

His hands left my face much sooner than I had anticipated and left me leaning forward slightly as they drew away. 

"I'm gonna take a shower real quick an' when I come back, I'll help you finish 'cause I'm starvin' to dust." His bubbly voice leaves the room and it all becomes shades of grey again as I shuffle around the room, gathering everything I need to make a salad and spreading it across the island we've been using as a table before moving on to the spaghetti. I put on a pot of water to boil, browning the meat in the pan as I nurse myself back to a normal version of me. I have to get this under control. It's not going to get better while he is staying here, but something in my heart doesn't want him to leave and something else in my mind, an emotion that I don't entertain, says that everything will only get worse if he leaves. By the time he has come back, I've almost completed the meal and I point at the salad fixings. He has already plopped down on the stool and pulled over the bowl I had set out, piling it high as I turn back to the stove. I can hear the crunch of lettuce and fresh spinach as he happily chews away and I glance back to find him looking where my back would be. Turning back, I feel embarrassed again, as if he couldn't possibly make me feel anything else. 

"So why'd you come to Eureka Springs, Dante?"

The question shot through my back like a dagger and the kindling in my heart became frigid and cold. "I left because there was nothing for me where I was, Eureka being the first place I saw when I glanced at the map."

"Do you plan to go visit your friends or family sometime?"

"I don't have any friends or family." The part of me that made me flee Hattiesburg is quietly crawling through my thoughts, surfacing as a glacier, its intent unknown.

"Well, you can be my family."

"I'm sure your family wouldn't agree. There isn't a place for me. Not even in my own family."

Silence drags on in the kitchen as I mix the spaghetti together and serve it on the island, turning around for the first time since this conversation has started. His face looks hurt, almost broken. "I know there's a place for you. I made it. You can't just say it's not there." The glisten in his eyes makes me worried that tears will fall. I don't know when this exchange became so serious, but all I want to do is take everything back. I don't want to see him cry. I don't want to see the shattered remnants of whatever is etched across his handsome features.

The rest of our meal is eaten in the uncomfortable emptiness that follows. As he stands up, he clears his plate and the empty salad pieces, placing the leftovers in the fridge after covering the small bowl with the matching lid. I watch him saunter out of the front door, the heaviness of his head breaking what is left of my heart as I feel the tears falling down my cheeks. Emptiness fills the house as I drop my head on the counter, succumbing to the despair that permeates every pore on my body. I don't remember how long I had cried, but all I know is that it is the darkest hour of night and I've woken up to a loud scream. I search frantically through the house, finding nothing downstairs and running upstairs. After coming up empty handed, I stop at my bedroom door. Did I dream that someone screamed? I turn to look behind me, one last scan of the area before I go in and shut the door behind me, making sure to take note of the shadow room door being closed as well. I'll remember that tonight. 

As I drift back to sleep, the feeling of soft mattress beneath me, my body relaxes and I fall into a dream. A nightmare. Something I want to wake up from, but have never been able to escape.