Texas, 2003.

Joel runs his hands together in edginess. It was a 50/50 chance that you could be the best neighbor ever or the meanest witch in all of Texas. Only reason he mustered up the courage to make it to your doorstep was because Sarah kept bullying him for being too scared.

The door swings open, revealing you in a spaghetti tee and shorts. Average outfit for a texan in hot weather.

“Uh-hi. I’m..Joel Miller. Right across the street. I uh..noticed that you were struggling with your boxes and it would be ungentlemanly of me not to help.” You could tell he was not hiding his nervousness well. From the stuttering over his words to his constant rubbing over his hands.

“My brother can help also.”