He was kind and patient, which felt out of the blue from what I’d heard about other boys.

But what did I know?

He opened my door for me when we arrived at my house and, as promised, Kelly came barreling out of the front door to help with the bags.

“How’s Shane?” I teased her.

“He’ll be at the party. I’m so excited for us to double date. Thanks for taking care of my girl, Garrett! See you later!”

We waved him off and started our haul into the house.

The house we lived in was a very cute, quaint home that I purchased just far enough from campus to feel some separation. It was walkable, and one of the smaller neighborhoods in the Willow Bay area. We had enough space per house that each lot had a bit of outdoor space–space I wanted to fill with a garden and natural pool.

Our neighborhood was an old one, it was here for longer than the school had been. The architecture was old and traditional, speaking to the careful craftsmanship of the Victorian era. I felt at peace here with the non-symmetrical homes, steep roofs, and elaborate wood trim.

That was, when there weren’t house parties on the street. It made sense later why the older couple was willing to sell at a lower asking price.

I looked over at the newest house party–a predominantly male one–to see a bunch of them acting like fools in the front yard with beer and no shirts. Two of them were wrestling each other outside and it wasn’t clear if it was a play fight or not.

“What the hell are they doing?” I couldn’t help but stare.

Kelly laughed. “Being a bunch of cavemen, obviously.”

The two separated and reset their stances to prepare to collide again. The transition from wrestling to a fist fight had me leaning towards a real fight. The first guy with short, cropped brown hair took the first swing–a gnarly right hook–at the shaggy blonde and connected with his jaw. The guys around them cheered and hollered, encouraging the fight.

My eyes widened. “Dude, they’re fighting for real.”

The blonde one stumbled back and tried to correct his stance. He approached and attempted a few swings before landing an uppercut to the brown-haired guy. That looked brutal.

“Yikes,” she replied, becoming engrossed like I was.

A dark, leather jacketed figure leaned over the porch railing, throwing something into the scuffle, a cigarette hanging from his lips. Under his jacket, he had no shirt on, and his body was covered in tattoos. He was clearly enjoying the chaos.

“What the heck is that one doing?” I pointed at him, trying not to stare.

She chuckled. “That one? Yeah, I can guarantee he’s the one who started the fight.”

I raised an eyebrow in a silent question.