Love Me Broken Read Free Page B

river, and the houses are beginning to look shabbier. The lawns are littered with car parts and children’s playthings. One house has makeshift cardboard windows, and in the next the screen door is hanging off its hinges. I check my address and, let me tell you, I’m grateful to keep walking.
    The next block improves slightly—
slightly—
and this is where I find Levi’s house. It’s no mansion, but it looks clean enough. The wood panels on the outer walls have been panted a light green, with white trim around the windows and doorway. The windows don’t have blinds or screens, but at least they’re not broken. I walk over the lawn—it’s barely as wide as the sidewalk, and overgrown with yellow wildflowers—and up the two wooden steps to the front door. The paint is peeling from the door, and there’s a piece of paper taped to the side:
    DOORBELL BROKEN. PLEASE KNOCK.
    I knock and set down my duffel bag. For a moment it’s quiet, and I have a moment of panic. What if Levi doesn’t even live here? We’ve only chatted online; I’ve never even met the guy. What if he turns out to be some crazy lady with a husband and kids and a million Facebook profiles? I’ve heard of things like that happening. A footstep creaks on the floorboards inside, and I hold my breath.
    Then the door swings open, and it is definitely not some lady.
    Levi is wearing a stained navy t-shirt and baggy plaid pajama pants. His feet are bare, and his thin arms are covered with intricate tattoos. He looks to be in his mid-twenties, with long black hair and a pierced eyebrow. His eyes appear vacant—I want to guess stoned—but that look disappears the instant he sees me, replaced by a wide-eyed enthusiasm. He’s grinning like a kid on Christmas.
    “Adam!” he yells. Before I can answer, he rushes forward and throws his arms around me, squeezing me in a man-hug.
    Levi and I have been talking online for the past few months. We’re both into motorcycles and are complete gearheads. When I mentioned I needed to get out of town, he offered to set me up as an apprentice in his boss’s shop. He even had a room to rent, so it was perfect.
    He lets go, and I try to be polite without inviting conversation. I want a place to stay; I’m not looking for friends.
    “Hey, dude,” I say. “What’s up?”
    His eyes are still wide as he looks me over, taking me in. I realize I never sent him a photo, and I am probably not what he expected either.
     I’m taller than him, and while not a bodybuilder or anything, I’ve spent more time in the gym than he has. My arms especially look toned in my black t-shirt. I’ve got messy brown hair that could probably use the assistance of a barber, and what I’m told are don’t-fuck-with-me eyes. I try to smile to make myself look friendlier, but I’m still sort of uncomfortable, so only half my lip goes up.
    “Come on in, man,” Levi says, and reaches for my duffel. I beat him to it, and he notices that I’ve stopped him from touching it. This only gives him pause for half a second, and then he motions for me to go inside, the eyes and smile wide again as if I’m his long-lost best friend.
    He closes the door behind me and I look around. This house definitely has a bachelor feel to it. There’s an old couch and a TV in the living room area where we first walk in. What I assume is a coffee table is in front of the couch, but I can’t really tell because it’s completely covered with stuff: a pizza box, empty beer bottles, video game controllers, unopened mail. This guy’s no Martha Stewart.
    “Let me give you the tour,” he says. He walks past the front room and into a small kitchen with yellow linoleum flooring. “This is the kitchen. You’re welcome to use the fridge and stuff.” He opens the refrigerator, and it’s bare except for some old take-out boxes and a carton of milk. “I mostly eat out, so...” He shrugs to finish his statement.
    He points to the right side of the house. “That’s