Light floods into my empty house as the wide front door creaks open. The clock has spun to eight o'clock; mom should be getting home anytime now. The long drive home was filled with silent serenity as Rachel and I sat content within our own worlds. While she drove I looked out the window and watched the trees pass in slow motion as my mind picked up the lost speed. Now, home, I decide to finally rest my questioning brain and watch some numbing TV.

After a half and hour into Chopped, my mom barges into the living room. Her cheery face drops as she sees my various bags of clothes sprawled across the floor.

"You haven't been home five minutes Scarlett and you've already successfully destroyed the place," she says, deflated.

"Actually, I've been home approximately thirty-four minutes."

"I'm going to beat you for approximately thirty-four minutes," she jokes.

I laugh and get up to hug her. We walk side by side to the kitchen to begin creating my 'welcome home' dinner.

After I finish eating, I head upstairs to unpack and wash up. I leisurely unload everything, drained with the knowledge of returning to school again. Only two more months, I continue to remind myself; even though it's slightly more than two. After I finish my nightly routine, I climb into bed. Right as I begin to feel myself drift off, I'm blinded by my phone screen and shook by the rumbling of the vibration. Gritting my teeth in aggravation, I squint and glance towards the text. I don't recognize the number, and the area code is from out of state. Quizzically, I read the writing:

"Tomorrow's Monday, don't forget about our deal. I'll be waiting Tuesday."

Not even remotely curious how he got my number, I toss my phone to the side and focus on more important things, like sleep.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The first day back passes by like a breeze: boring classes teaching uninteresting things to fill in the space before graduation. There's a chill of excitement and sorrow passing through the halls, one of everlasting knowing; knowing, that is, of the future ahead of us and the separation that comes with. Luckily, Rachel and I are going to colleges less than an hour away from each other, so we'll still always be in touch. Eric, unfortunately, is crossing the country on a track scholarship. He'll be off in California near the ocean and sand where he was basically bread to be; and I'll be heading down from North Carolina to Florida to attend NSU.

I cross the sandy pavement of the school's parking lot and reach my car. While I fumble with the keys, I glance up to see Damon staring me down while he leans against the side of his mustang, just five cars away. Rolling my eyes, I look back towards my door and place the key into the handle. I'm about to climb inside, but Damon begins to make his way over, taking casual steps.

"Hello Scarlett," he says slowly, pulling at the cuffed sleeve of his pale blue button-up.

"Hey Damon," I respond.

"You know, I was thinking," He steps in front of me as I step backward, my butt hitting my door. Damon smirks and leans his hips against my stomach, pressing his black jeans against my white ones. He cups my chin between his forefinger and thumb, and raises my head so that our eyes connect.

"You should wear something loose tomorrow," he ends.

"And why is that?"

"Oh, comfortability and all."

"Sounds more like 'easy access' to me," I say coolly.

"Now Scarlett dear, why would you assume that?" he asks with a mischievous side grin.

Damon pushes himself off my car, flipping a few dark waves back into place. With a wink, he stalks off, leaving me aggravated but determined.

I head over to Rachel's house after school to work on some homework together. Her house looks much like mine since we live in the same neighborhood district; all of the houses look the same. We drag through our psychology homework tediously while I contemplate telling her about Damon and I's "deal". By the end of the night I decide to just keep the secret withheld, at least until I find out what exactly Damon has in store.

The next day, I wake up with a ball of anxiety in my stomach; however, a bolt of excitement hits me when I remember how I'm going to spite Damon. I rise and start to get dressed in the most difficult outfit I can create. I put on a white button-up and a black pinstriped vest over that. Then I pull on a pair of burgundy skinny jeans that I roll up to my ankles, and I add my tan oxfords to complete the hardest-to-remove-but-still-spring-appropriate outfit ever. Adding minimal makeup, I nod in approval and leave for school.

After surviving the first half of the day, 5th hour finally strolls around. Taking in a slight breath, I enter the classroom. Mr. Garrison nods as I smile towards him, then I head towards my desk. Damon is in the back of the room grabbing a book; he turns around and begins to make his way back until he sees me. He makes an awkward stop with a momentarily confused look; then, as he catches onto my intentions, his face transforms as a smirk takes over. I sit, a prideful grin playing upon my lips, and we start the day's lesson.

"I suppose you think you're quite clever, huh?" Damon whispers near my ear.

I jump, startled by his close proximity, but quickly collect myself and throw back a "Yep!"

He merely chuckles and lies back in his seat. I continue working until I'm rudely interrupted again not even a minute later. I pick up my vibrating phone to read the text. It's from Damon:

"Patience, persistence, and perspiration make an unbeatable combination for success."

My face turns bright red. I know the quote, it's by Napoleon Hill; however, I don't believe he and Damon are referring to the same thing.

Once school ends, I timidly make my way out to the parking lot to meet up with Damon. I'm not going to lie, I'm nervous and quite frankly regretting that I ever agreed to any of this. I guess I let my attraction towards Damon and my curiosity of his life get the better of me. I spot him parked next to my car, already in and motor running. He gives me a signal to follow him, so I clamber into my vehicle and start on behind him. We drive for a good 15 minutes, passing my house along the way to drop off my car. I hadn't realized he lived so close to me. Before I notice, we're turning into a neighborhood 2 blocks away from mine, all the houses still indistinguishable in their uniform concentration.

That is until we pull into a driveway that connects to what I assume is Damon's magnificent home. It's completely unordinary and totally extraordinary. Its modern angles and white exterior sets it apart from everything around it. It's about double the size of the houses surrounding, and the second floor's side wall is just one large window.

I step out of his car, willingly letting my jaw fall as I walk over to Damon.

"You live here?"

"Of course not, we're just going break in, obviously," he answers sarcastically.

"Oh shut up. You know, for a Black, your house is pretty white."

"We get that a lot."

"It must be custom, there's no other house like this around here."

"Yeah, it's custom, my mother is really into modernization."

"I see...," I trail off, pondering over his parents' occupations to afford such a house.

As if he read my thoughts, I hear Damon voice, "My dad is a optometrist and my mom is a partner of one of the largest law firms out here. My hotshot brother followed in her footsteps too and is a successful lawyer in Florida."

"Wow, that's outstanding! I never would have guessed that you—!"

"That I what? Came from a rich goody-goody family?" He scoffs, walking towards the door.

"That's not what I was going to say," The hurt from his outburst breaking into my response.

Damon slows, taking in a breathe, "I know," he says softly, as an apology.

I'm still standing in his driveway, shuffling my toe into the pavement, not knowing what to do. Damon turns around, all comfort gone now and scandal dancing within his eyes. He lifts his hand, arm outstretched, towards me as a welcome.

"Let's get started, White."