s is for seth

He’d been driving for three days. Was certain that once he reached his destination, he’d sleep for three days.

Seth flexed his hands on the wheel, cracked his knuckles. Tilted his head from side to side, rolled it once in each direction. Winced at the clicks and pops, the tautness in his neck and shoulders.

An hour from now, he’d be home. In his loft, asleep in his bed.

His parents expected him tomorrow. But Seth had managed to wrap things up in San Luis-Obispo earlier than planned. Packed the most important of his belongings — his computer, papers and tools, drafting table, his favorite clothing and a rather massive CD collection — into his Hummer, arranged to have the rest of his things shipped. His girlfriend of nearly two years was adamantly opposed to leaving California, so they'd called it. He'd had one last night on the town with his friends, then, two days later, he'd set off for home, eager to see his parents and his long-time friends. He would have time to catch up with everyone and get settled before he had to begin work at a local architectural firm.

He smiled as he neared home, and the excitement of surprising his family swelled within him. A few minutes later, he pulled into the drive, parked in his usual spot and bounded into the house.

“Mom!” He searched the first floor, then hurried upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. “Mom! I’m home!”

But she wasn’t there.

With a frown, and a bit of disappointment, he headed back outside up the stairs to his loft above the garage. But, for some reason, his key wouldn’t fit the lock.

“Swell.”

He trudged back downstairs, then dropped onto a step, rested his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands and waited.

“Figures.”

He blew out a breath, rubbed his eyes with both hands. Leaned his back against the side of the garage, his feet on the railing and shut his eyes.

Only to open them, then rise, at the sound of the car zipping into the drive.

A pine green convertible BMW M3. Belting out The Black Crowes.

Seth waited, curious, as the driver killed the engine, stepped out.

“What the hell,” she muttered.

Mahogany curls fell past her shoulders. She wore a pale green blouse with khaki capris, deep brown leather wedge heels. Green eyes snapped at his. “You lost?”

Seth stuck his hands in his pockets. “Nope.”

“Then what are you doing standing on my doorstep?”

He raised a brow. “It’s my doorstep. I’m locked out.”

“S’that so?”

“Yep.”

“Hmm.” She pursed her lips, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, twirled her keys once. “I’ll bet you that oh, so shiny yellow Hummer, which, I’m assuming, is yours — it is yellow, right? — that’s parked in my spot, that this key…” She paused to dangle her house key in front of his face, then continued, “will fit that lock up there.” She gestured to her front door. “And I can assure you, you’ll lose that shiny yellow Hummer. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve a friend coming over shortly, and I need to go get ready.”

He only grinned. “Yeah, that’s my Hummer. Her name is Kit.”

“You name your cars? Okay, now I know you’re psychotic. Get out of my way so I can call the cops and have them bust your —”

“Seth! You’re early!” Mrs. Forrester — short, blonde and blue-eyed — jumped out of her spiffy little Jaguar, raced across the drive to pull him into a fierce hug. Her son looked nothing like her, taking after his father instead. He was tall, with medium brown hair that curled, but only slightly, and green eyes. “We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.” She stepped back to take his hands in hers, studied him, then hugged him close again. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here! Seems like years since you’ve been home!”

Seth laughed. “I was here for Christmas, Mom. Months ago, not years.”

She stepped back again, grasped a hand. “You were here for five days. I’m talking really home. For good. California’s such a long way away.”

He grinned at the girl. “See? I told you so. My doorstep. So, I guess I get to keep Kit after all.”

“Actually, dear, this is her doorstep,” his mother said. “This is August Kennedy, Seth. She’s been staying here for a while.”

With a smirk, August reached for her keys, which she had dropped as Mrs. Forrester welcomed her son home. “See? I told you so.” She brushed past him to climb up the stairs and into her apartment.

He watched her go, then turned to stare at his mother. “Run that by me one more time.”

“We leased out your loft. Just for a little while. We figured you weren’t planning on living here when you came back, not that I wouldn’t love it if you did—”

“Well, no—”

“So, you’ll stay in the house for the time being.”

“But—”

“Just until you find your own place.” She wrapped an arm around his waist, lead him toward the house.

He glanced back, scowled at the loft, then followed his mother into the kitchen. “Good of you to tell me you leased out my room before I got home,” Seth muttered.

“I really didn’t think you would mind. You weren’t really planning on staying here, were you?”

He leaned against the bar, frowned. “Well, no. I have two weeks before I have to start working. I was gonna catch up with friends and look for a house.”

“So, you’ll sleep upstairs instead of over the garage.” She went to the refrigerator, got out all the makings for sandwiches. “You want ham or turkey?”

“Both.”

She blew out a breath, quickly got two sandwiches on a plate and handed it to him. “I should’ve known not to ask.”

Seth flashed a grin, settled onto a bar stool and ate. “So, how’d she hear about the place? What all do you know about her? I didn’t figure you for letting strangers into the home.”

“She’s not a stranger. Her mother and I have moved in the same circles for quite some time. Elana had mentioned a while back that her daughter was coming back from Europe soon to start teaching at the high school here. Did I know of any nice apartments nearby? So, I suggested the loft. I feel better knowing that someone’s up there, keeping an eye on the place, especially since we’ve been doing so much traveling of late. And she’s happy there, I think. So, it works well for both of us.”

Seth finished of the sandwiches, wandered over to the refrigerator.

“You want another one?”

“Nah, I’m thirsty.” He took out a can of Coke, popped the top. “She ever been late with the rent? And I hope you’re charging a fair price. It’s a nice apartment.” Of course it is, he thought. I built it.

“August's a first year teacher, Seth. I charge what she can afford. And she’s always early with the rent.”

“Well, that’s something, I suppose.” He sipped, glanced out the kitchen window to the garage and the room above it. “She was gonna call the cops and have them bust my butt.”

“I doubt that. She seems like a very nice girl.”

Seth rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Whatever.” With a shrug, he snagged his keys off the bar. “I should unpack. When’ll dinner be ready?”

“That was dinner. You’re father’s working late tonight, and I’ve a meeting.”

“Mom, I need more than two sandwiches. And your baby boy is home. I figured you’d be all about going to a fancy schmancy restaurant.”

“That’s tomorrow night. I'm sorry to leave so quickly. I'd forgotten some papers, so it's luck that I got here when I did, really.” She cleaned up the kitchen, washed and dried her hands, then rifled through a stack of papers on the bar for the ones she needed. “There’s more sandwich stuff in the fridge and some leftover pizza. I’m sure you can make do. I'm really glad you're home, Sweetie,” she said, reached up to tousle his hair, then hurried out.

He huffed out a breath. “Not quite what I was expecting.”

(c) twenty-ten. jennifer k. griffin, otherwise known as c.c. this publication is the exclusive property of c.c. and is protected under the united states copyright act of nineteen seventy-six and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws. the contents of this post, and any other c.c.-crafted picky post for that matter, may not be reproduced as a whole or in part, by any means whatsoever, without c.c.'s consent. all rights reserved. in other words, steal this, and i will follow you to the depths of hell and the edge of forever and kick your puny, thieving ass. thanks. :]

this was a (rather lengthy) matlock project. to learn about that, go here.

previous projects: p is for pissy, q is (not) for qwest stadium and r is for reese.