I threw my hood over my head, and ran to the porch to get out of the rain. I hesitated in knocking on the door. Friends, family, society-they all considered us two to be polar opposites. Me entering his house would be, unheard of almost, frowned upon. If my parents heard about it, they would surely confront me. My friends would check up on me to see if I was “ok”. Shoot, people at my church might even pray for me.
Strangely enough, it was these thoughts that motivated me to hit the door three times.
He opened it with that sly little smile on his face, one eyebrow partially raised, “Brandi,” he greeted.
“Isaiah,” I mocked and stepped past him inside the house.