Tommy, her boyfriend's former bully

With the spring in her step of a young lady who's work shift was nearly finished, she practically skipped down the sidewalk towards her last destination. A slightly battered postbox beside a concrete pathway bore the number 12, the same one from her phone. She briefly considered putting the delivery in there, but the package in her hands was much too big for that poor, little, slot, she'd just have to take care of it herself.

Stepping past the letterbox, she marched up the path without a care in the world. Her head was swirling with dinner plans, but she still noticed the yellowing grass of the lawn on either side of her, and the weeds poking out from between the slabs beneath her feet. Whoever lived here, they really could have paid their front yard some more attention. The porch wasn't much better. The gutter was falling down on one side, the peak in the middle was missing a couple of shingles, and the whole thing could use a real lick of paint.

The owner evidently didn’t care, but it was this type of apathy towards one’s own belongings that would drive Jenna mad. David teased her that she was a neat freak, but she wasn't, she just knew where everything should go and wanted it to be kept there at all times. Living here would have made Jenna crazy, but thankfully she was just passing through, and it wasn't her place to tell someone else how to look after their stuff. Even if their way of doing it looked ugly.

Wooden stairs creaked beneath her trainers, another flaw that would have worn on her nerves, as she ascended porch steps. At the top she stepped in front of the white-painted wooden door and pressed the door bell that was beside it. When that made no noise, probably as broken and uncared for as everything else she had seen, she rapped her knuckles politely on the door instead.

While she waited for the houses occupant to answer, she took another quick look at it's exterior. The wood paneling on the front of the house was painted a light, but faded, blue, and inset on either side of the door were two rectangular windows. She couldn't see inside of the house for the white curtains that were drawn closed on both sides, not that she wanted to see inside anyway. She was only being politely nosey.

Before she could get a chance to be any nosier, or to knock again, she finally heard some movement inside. Heavy, thudding footsteps moved down what was presumably the hall of the house towards her. Standing up straight, she plastered on her customer service smile, and got ready to greet whoever it was that was receiving the parcel in her hands. Finally, the door opened with a creak and the clacking of locks.

Instinctively, Jenna extended her arms forward to hand over the box, only to freeze when she saw who was in front of her. His shoulders were broad enough to nearly fill the doorway, eclipsing her view into the house beyond. His muscles were visible through the white tank top he wore, his biceps bulging like pythons as he reached out to take what he was holding, and more noticeably for Jenna, something else was bulging through his sweatpants to halfway down his thigh.

That wasn't why her eyes went wide, however. What made her pause was that the man in front of her was Tommy. He had a buzzcut and a new tattoo creeping up one side of his neck, but he was still unmistakably the guy who had given her boyfriend more grief than anyone else in high school.

Part of her just wanted to drop that asshole's parcel on the floor and walk away, but it was already too late for that. His strong hands had already easily pried it form her shocked grip, taking it form her before she had a chance to do anything. Her next instinct was to cuss him out, but she restrained herself, and not just because she didn't want to risk her job. High school had been years ago now, maybe tommy had changed.

There was only one way to find out.

"Hi, Tommy!" She said, her voice chipper.

Bleary eyes veered up from the parcel he had taken, locking blankly on to her.

"It’s Jenna," she continued, "from high school."

Recognition finally seemed to wash over his face.

"Oh Jenna," he laughed, his voice gravelly as if he had just got up, "long time no see."

His eyes, apparently now alerted to her presence, dropped to her chest, and Jenna suddenly regretted squeezing her DDs into such a tight shirt this morning.

"Damn, you look good," he growled, and Jenna could practically feel his lecherous eyes groping over her body.

"I’m glad to see you’re looking well too," she replied coldly, already regretting saying anything more to him than ‘here’s your package.’

"Yeah, I’ve been working out," Tommy flexed his bicep, making Jenna roll her eyes. “You still with pipsqueak?”

There it was, the final proof that Tommy hadn’t changed at all.

"If you mean David, then yes, we’re still together," Jenna responded, her cold tone becoming downright arctic in response to her boyfriend's old nickname.

"Wow, he's a lucky guy," Tommy laughed, finally dragging his eyes up her body to look Jenna in the face again. "Say, it's been so long since I've seen you, how about you come inside for a drink so we can catch up?"

Tommy stepped to one side as he spoke, opening up the hallway to her and gesturing for her to come in with one hand. Looking at him, Jenna could scarcely even believe that he would make the offer. The conversation between the two of them hadn't exactly been engrossing so far, and she doubted a change of scenery to whatever dingy hole passed as Tommy's living room would change that.

No way she'd take him up on that, right?