Page 103 of Dear Future Husband

Ignoring my very paranoid feelings, I made my way into the football den. At the kitchen table sat Larson andWilliams playing… Monopoly.

“Ah, pay up, Williams. That would be my property you landed on,” Larson said, holding his palm out to accept his payment owed.

“I’m so done with this game. This shit is rigged,” Williams griped but proceeded to pay up.

The door snapped shut behind me, alerting the two boys to my arrival.

“Hey, May, you want in? We could start over so you can join,” Larson offered, but Williams stood from his stool.

“You two have fun. I’m out.”

I approached the counter, peering over their board. “Thanks, but maybe some other time. I’m here for tutoring.”

Williams stretched out his long wingspan as he spoke through a taut yawn, “That’s right. It’s Sunday, huh?”

I nodded.

“Turner should be chilling in his room if you want to head on back there—or you could ditch the loser and hang out with us. The choice is yours, but there’s an obvious right answer.” Larson’s sideways smile revealed one carefree dimple as he winked.

I patted him on the shoulder before spinning for the hall. “Thanks, but no thanks. My math grade is in need of too much help for me to skip even one tutoring sesh.”

I made the descent towards Trey’s room, with Larson’s half-hearted “boos” rolling down after me. When I reached the room, the door was slightly ajar. I couldn’t help but sneak a peek through the crack.

I could spy half the dresser along the right-side wall and most of the bed that was snug in the middle of the room, but no Trey. Then I noticed his bathroom door. It was closed but light scraped out from underneath.

I slipped inside the room, letting the door click shut with my entrance.

Trey had to be in the bathroom because his roomheld no trace of him. Except his shoes and shirt he’d worn that morning were in a pile next to his dresser.

I dropped the backpack I had slung over one shoulder full of class supplies onto the bed.

“Trey?” I called out, more to let him know I was there than in search of him.

I heard rustling in the bathroom and then a labored groan. “Yeah?”

Curiously, I tiptoed up to the door. “It’s me—Are you still up for tutoring?”

“Oh—uh, yeah. Sorry, I lost track of the time. Just give me a minute, please.”

Perfect, because there was something I’d been dying to do since the first time I saw his room. Some snooping.

I checked out the closet on the left side wall first.

Lots of dark colored athletic clothes, of course. A couple hoodies and jeans, but what caught my attention most was a slick, black suit, white button up and black tie. The ensemble sparked too many tantalizing imaginations of a dapper Trey picking me up for a magical date to the opera or the ballet.

That’s enough, Maybelle.

Everything was hung up neatly, and his shoes were organized in a line on the floor. Each pair matched up and positioned together.

He seemed to have everything planned. Every innate part of his life efficiently placed in constructed structure. Trey thrived on order. A fact I was well aware of since I first met him. But what had me smiling was that I knew I was anything but order. I was a chaotic mess and yet, Trey and I seemed to work so well together…

Moving on.

There wasn’t a lot of storage space in the room, but there was one last place I hadn’t pillaged yet. My eyes fell onto the short nightstand sitting beside the bed. I knelt before it. As my fingertips skimmed the brass knob of the drawer, a gut-wrenching heave sounded from Trey’sbathroom.

Startled, I shot to my feet, forgetting about the unsearched dresser entirely as I pushed my ear to the door. “Trey? Are you alright? What was that?”

A moment passed and then another hurl tore open the quiet air on the other side. I didn’t wait for his response; I opened the door.