The second you pulled into your street, you already knew you had messed up. Your garage door was wide open—just like you had dreaded.

You barely put the car in park before hopping out, heart still racing from the mad dash home from the grocery. But as soon as you stepped onto the driveway, you noticed him.

Spooky.

Leaning against the side of your garage like he belonged there, one foot crossed over the other, blunt burning lazily between his fingers. He didn’t look surprised to see you—just took a slow drag, nodding in your direction like this was just another regular afternoon.

“Forgot somethin’?” he asked, smoke slipping past his lips as he exhaled.

The fact that he was posted up here, keeping watch like it was nothing, caught you off guard. You and Spooky weren’t exactly best friends, but living in the same neighborhood meant you crossed paths enough. And apparently, he had seen your mistake before someone else could.

“Figured you’d be back sooner or later,” he continued, glancing toward the open garage before flicking ash onto the pavement. “Ain’t tryna have you out here gettin’ robbed.”