-franks POV-
“Are you sure that moving out of home is what you want for your eighteenth birthday?” my father asks a week before the actual day. “Has it really been that terrible living here?”
“Oh no, dad! Don’t think like that. It’s just that all of my friends are either living in uni housing or they’re in flats of their own. I just don’t want to feel left out anymore,” I attempt to explain.
My father just growls in response, he’s not happy about this change at all. And I understand that. Ever since my brother died, he’s kept a very close eye on me. I mean, I’ve had a 6pm curfew since I started high school which continued on into university.

He has always claimed that it was because I was so intelligent – he wanted me to focus on my studies. Although, I’m pretty sure he was just making sure I had no time for a social life.
Not that that stopped me – where there’s a will, there’s a way. And I’ve managed to have my fair share of teenage experiences, despite my restrictions.
My mother butts in as she wanders into the kitchen and pours herself a cup “Oh, leave him alone Barry. It’s perfectly normal. He wants to stand on his own two feet. I don’t blame him. You’re so damn strict withhim all the time.”
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting your family close,” he grumbles.”

“Of course there isn’t, dear,” my mother coos, sliding an arm over his protruding belly as she kisses his cheek. “But he's going to be an adult. We can’t keep him locked up forever.”
My parents have one of those silent exchanges that always ends with them kissing, so I take that as my cue to leave.
“I’ll see you both tonight. I have a train to catch,” I say, as I stand up from the stool I was occupying and pick up my navy blue Crumpler laptop bag.
“Have fun, honey,” my mother calls. “I hope you find something.”
Walking toward the train station, I squint against the warm New Jersey sun and dig inside my bag for a pair of sunglasses. As I slide the dark shades over my eyes, I can’t help but smile to myself as I check my watch.
Today is my first whiff of freedom. My friend Aaron is taking me apartment hunting, and I can’t wait. Pretty soon, I’ll be eighteen, and I’ll be able to legally go out and have fun without having a curfew to get back in time for.
Swiping my travel pass, I enter the station and after a short wait, board the sterile steel carriage of the train, disembarking a stop later at Kingswood station. I make my way over the pedestrian bridge and walk toward the older styled apartment block where Aaron lives.
He moved in with a new flatmate only a couple of weeks ago and since I haven’t visited him here yet, I double check the message on my phone containing his address to make sure I have the right place.
Once confirmed, I enter the foyer through the brown painted aluminium and glass door. To my right, is a bank of letterboxes and just in front is a narrow set of stairs that wind up the couple of flights to his floor.
Each floor seems to have five apartments on it. I’m looking for number nine and find it on the second floor, right near the landing on my right.
I knock loudly on the faux wood, chipboard door in an attempt to be heard over the music booming from the inside. Then stand back, and wait patiently as I hear the music shut off and footsteps coming toward the door.
When it opens, I’m immediately taken aback by a set of unusually light green eyes, set in a lean, stubbled face, topped off with dark hair, messily spiked. Their owner practically fills out the doorway, and I thank Christ I’m so small and can almost look him in the eye, because in my periphery I can see that he’s gulp shirtless. I will not look down, I will not look down, I assure myself, trying to ignore the round pecs and defined pale abs that are calling to me

My heart beats solidly against my chest as I stare directly into his questioning eyes, hoping I appear calm.
“Hi, I’m Frank, Aaron’s friend. He said to meet him here,” I say to who I’m assuming is Aaron’s roommate Jeremy, while trying to sound confidant and unperturbed by his thoroughly ruffled and very sexy appearance.
Taking a deep breath as I await his response, I inhale his smell, my stomach growls audibly, he smells like… bacon? The corner of his full mouth turns up in an amused grin as my cheeks flame from my stomach’s rudeness.
“I’m making bacon sangas. You want one?” he asks me, stepping aside to let me through.
“Ah sure,” I reply, stepping inside and setting my things on the vacant chair at the two seater dining table to the right of the front door. Jeremy picks up a shirt and slides it over his head, and I’ll admit that I eye licked him a little while his face was hidden under the material.
My eyes scan the apartment, noting how meticulously clean it is for an apartment that houses a couple of male university students. To my left, there are two doors that are closed, presumably leading toward bedrooms and a bathroom door between them which lies open. The living area is open planned. It’s basically one big rectangle that houses the lounge, dining, and kitchen. A two-seater black leather couch sits in front of a rather large flat screen TV that is attached to the wall above an antique looking, Jacobean style sideboard, that houses the DVD player and stereo system.There is some very modern looking art adorning the walls. They feature lots of shapes, lines and duotone colours. I particularly like the one that’s hanging above the dark-stained pine, dining table. It kind of looks like a glass of red wine, hitting a black surface and exploding.
To the right is a small kitchen where Jeremy is still cooking strips of bacon and buttering slices of bread. The scent of the pan and the sight of the man standing over it, causes my mouth to water and my stomach to nag at me with both hunger and a nervous attraction. I continue to look around the room, trying to keep myself from staring at him as he works the pan.
Right next to the door on the wall, I notice a pin board covered in small pieces of paper. Stepping closer, I lean in, scrutinising the collage, releasing my breath in awe as I notice that they’re all sketches.
Reaching out, I touch a yellow post-it note with my finger. On it is a perfect sketch of a girl, leaning up against a tree. It’s so small and so detailed, that I feel myself leaning even closer to have a look.
The sound of plates being placed on the table brings my attention away from the board, and I’m once again entranced in those light coloured eyes. His gaze flicks from me to the plate, and I snap out of it, moving to the table to sit down and eat.
“Thank you,” I say as I pick up my sandwich and take bite, closing my eyes as the greasy-bacony-goodness flows over my taste buds. “That’s delicious,” I practically moan.
Smiling, he sets a can of coke in front of me before moving over to the pin board and flipping it over. I frown slightly as I’m now faced with a board pinned with a calendar, bills and a few photos.
He makes his way over to the table and sits across from me, raking his hand through his messy jet black hair and popping his own can of coke before taking a thirsty gulp.
“Sorry, I didn’t realise I wasn’t supposed to be looking at that,” I say, indicating the now flipped pin board


“It’s fine,” he says, focusing on his sandwich. “I normally flip it when I’m expecting someone. Um, what time are you supposed to be meeting Aaron?”
“One, although I’m a little early,” I reply glancing at my watch. It’s twelve fifty two, and I’ve already been here for five minutes.
“Ah ok,” he says, before filling his mouth with almost half of his sandwich. He must be hungry.
“I didn’t just steal half your lunch, did I?”
He grins around his food, covering his mouth slightly as he shakes his head in the negative. Swallowing he says, “Don’t sweat it, I’m happy to share. So how do you know Aaron?”
“We’re studying for the same degree.”
“Ah, of course,” he says, his eyes twinkling at me as he finishes devouring his sandwich and starts to wash it down with his can of coke. “Here,” he says, reaching out and popping the top of my can, twisting it around so the mouth is facing me.
“Thanks,” I say again. “You make a really good bacon sandwich.”
“Thank you,” he nods, as he sits and watches me eat, his eyes still twinkling in what looks like amusement over the top of “his can while he takes another swig. “So how long have you and Aaron been dating?”
“Oh. No. We’re friends. We have been since the first day of uni. I mean, we dated for a while, but the age difference became a bit of an issue. So that was the end of that.”
“Why was your age a problem?" he asks, taking another sip.”

Notes