When I wander back home, it's still early. I left the party soon after Tanner's performance and went home because I was cold, tired, and hungry. Booze and chips don't fill the stomach as they should. I stop by KLC to get some chicken for dinner and head home.

The passage is dark; only a couple of lanterns create spots of light on the wet concrete. My fingers, clutching the paper bag with the chicken, went numb from the cold. But I stop when I see a guy illuminated by one of the lanterns. I haven't seen him before, but a quick glance around reveals several boxes at the entrance to the neighboring house, hinting that he might be my new neighbor. He stands a few meters from the fence, where Kudo rests his paws. They seem to be studying each other. Kudo sniffs, then wags his tail, and finally utters a low, quiet growl, as if he can't decide on his attitude towards this guy. But when he notices me, he starts jumping on his hind legs and wagging his tail.

I approach, and the guy turns to face me. The first thing I notice is his eyes, so blue that it makes me wonder if they're colored lenses. He's a little shorter and thinner than me. I always size up strangers, estimating my chances in a fight. This guy doesn't look like a fighter, more like a nerd, and somewhat sad. But who knows?

"Hey, Kudo," I say, coming closer to the guy and patting the excited dog. Kudo seems to smell the chicken because he tries to reach for the bag in my hand.

"Is he yours?" the guy asks in a quiet voice, raising a dark brow questioningly.

"No... he's not mine. But he's all bark, no bite," I reply, my mouth suddenly dry.

The guy's face changes as his lips curve into a half-smile. Something twists in my stomach.

"It's okay if he bites," he says thoughtfully. "Dogs usually bite only for protection, not for fun. They won't hurt you just for fun," he asserts, his words feeling deeply meaningful as he looks at me, his gaze piercing.

"Are you wearing lenses?" I ask, unable to hold back my curiosity any longer.

He smiles, "What?"

And that funny twitch in my stomach happens again. Maybe the alcohol finally got to me?

Before I can get an answer, a woman appears in the doorway of the neighboring house. "Noah," she calls out, drawing our attention. "Who are you talking to out here?"

"Just a neighbor," Noah replies, turning to face her.

I raise my hand in a stiff "hello." The woman comes closer; she looks tired. Not my-mom kind of tired, but still. And another thing that's strikingly different: despite her fatigue, her eyes are warm and inviting as she greets me, "Hi! I'm Nora. Why don't you join us for dinner? We've just moved in and would love to get to know our neighbors."

I'm taken aback for a moment, not used to such friendliness. "Uh, thanks. I... I've got things to do."

Nora smiles kindly, "That's okay! Maybe next time then," she says, and it sounds like she means it. "Noah, could you take the last box from the porch, please?" she asks him. "I've set the table. Come on."

And they walk back to the shabby house at the end of the path, leaving me wondering.

The muted light of the living room welcomes me back home. It's quiet; mom is either sleeping or not home. I pass by the worn-out couch, the floorboards creaking their usual song, and place the cold chicken on the table. I don't bother to warm it up, tearing the meat from the bones with my teeth. My thoughts keep wandering back to the neighboring house. I wonder what they have for dinner. Maybe I should've accepted the invitation if I was so curious.

After finishing my meal, I peek in the shower. My fatigue weighs heavily on me, so I only manage to stand under the stream for a couple of minutes to wash off the sweat, dust, and cold without much of my assistance. Finally, I reach the bed. It squeaks under my weight, and I drift into sleep.

"Are you wearing lenses?" What a stupid thing to ask...

***
The next morning is an umpteenth twin of every other morning I've had. But when I step out of the house to catch the school bus, there's this guy again, walking in the same direction.

Out of habit, I pet Kudo, who awaits my attention every morning. I'm not in a rush to catch up with the guy, but when the bus approaches, we both get on. When our eyes meet, I have to acknowledge his presence with a terse "Hi", ignoring the twist in my guts. Did I eat something?

He nods and smiles slightly as he takes a seat. I hesitate for a second, then sit beside him. All the way to school, he fiddles with the clasp on his backpack, chewing his lip and thinking about something. It must suck being the new guy at school. I don't really know.

The school courtyard buzzes with the usual morning chaos as students shuffle around. I spot Rory and Liam and withdraw, losing sight of Noah.

"Where's Tanner?" asks Liam.

I shrug. "Dunno. Maybe sleeping in?"

"Wild night, was it?" Rory quips.

I shrug again, "Just the usual."

As the bell signals the start of the school day, I glance around, half-expecting to see Noah weaving through the crowd, but he's nowhere to be seen.

I notice him when I come into the homeroom. He's talking to Mrs. Thompson, and as she waves for us to sit, Noah remains standing near her desk.

"Good morning, class," she says with a smile. "We have a new student joining us today." She gestures to Noah, and he steps forward. A wave of curiosity sweeps through the class; all eyes shift to the unfamiliar face. "Noah, why don't you introduce yourself to the class?" Mrs. Thompson prompts. Noah's eyes flicker nervously until they land on my face - the one that's familiar to him, I guess. Strangely, he seems calmer instantly.

"My name is Noah James," his voice is steady but tinged with nervousness. He looks directly at me as if speaking only to me. "I'm from Detroit, and I just moved here." Noah falls silent, casting his eyes to the floor.

"Are there any interests you'd like to share?" Mrs. Thompson nudges.

Noah lifts his head again, locking eyes with me. For some reason, I hold his gaze.

"I..." he starts, hesitating. I can't imagine sharing something more than he already did with a group of strangers. "I love... stargazing..."

A chuckle ripples through the class. That was a mistake. He should've stopped at his name. Mrs. Thompson claps her hands, "That's wonderful! We don't have a stargazing club, but maybe you could start one." She smiles, but Noah hardly reacts, finally finding an empty desk and settling in, looking like he wishes he could disappear. The attention soon shifts, though, as the door bursts open and Tanner strolls in, as nonchalant as ever.

"You're late, Tanner," Mrs. Thompson shoots him a stern look. He just grins and mumbles some excuse. She lets it slide, and he heads to his desk with a swagger. On his way, he notices Noah, and his eyes light up briefly. I know this look - it's nothing new. But what is new is the prickling sensation at the back of my neck. And I can't shake off the nasty feeling.