Following Isaac by Casey McMillin Page A

you ask?"
    "I just saw someone with similar eyes at a hotel one time I think."
    "Oh no. My sisters both have dark eyes. Plus, neither of them even live here."
    "They're almost unmistakable."
    "My eyes, really?" she asked. "Oh, my color is everywhere. I see my color all the time. Now, your eyes are rare. I never see other people with that shade of green. Are yours contacts?"
    She seemed to want to get the attention off of herself, which was the opposite of what most other girls would want. I didn't ask her about eyes again. I stared into them and marveled at them but didn't mention them.
    We talked about everything else, though. We each asked meaningful questions about growing up and goals for the future. I had the distinct feeling I already knew her. I was unnaturally and undeniably comfortable in her presence, and I caught myself dreading the moment the encounter ended.
    "Can I go by your house?" I asked when we were on our way to her car.
    "I still haven’t gotten my coffee."
    "Let's do both."
    She tried to shake me again after we went to the coffee shop, but I talked her into bringing me by her house. It was a nice place; similar to the lawyer's from the other night. The guy who owned the place was a professional poker player and (as she put it on the way to his house) certified oddball.
    When we walked in, he was working on a house of cards that was so poorly constructed it was an absolute wonder how it was standing. The more I looked at it, the more I realized what a work of art it was. By the looks of the thing, there was no way it should have been standing. It looked architecturally impossible, like it should have fallen over long ago.
    Uncle Greg had on super short workout shorts from the seventies with a striped, terrycloth sweatband and knee-high athletic socks to match.
    "This one's really cool," Becca said as I followed her into the room. "I'm not gonna walk by it, or it'll fall."
    "It's sturdy," he said. He glanced at me. He had on nerdy aviator glasses and was sporting a thick mustache. I liked him instantly. "Who's this?" he asked, sticking his hand out in my direction.
    We greeted each other with a handshake. "I'm Isaac," I said. His head tilted down and he regarded me through the tops of his glasses with a blank expression. He stared at me for an awkward amount of time, but I was patient and waited to see what he'd say next.
    He glanced over at Becca. "Is this the guy from that website with all the fans?" he asked.
    She blushed as she stared at him in disappointed disbelief. "You must have Asperger's," she said, shaking her head at him.
    He smiled innocently. "What? If it's the guy I’m talking about, then he probably knows he's famous." He looked at me. "Are you that guy?"
    I smiled. "I do have a few fans on the internet," I said. "But I don't know if they count in real life since they don't know I stink when I sweat just like everyone else."
    "You stink right now," Greg said.
    I seriously loved this guy. He was a character all the way.
    "Unbelievable!" Becca said staring at her uncle. She looked at me. "I told you we shouldn't come here. He has no idea what he's talking about," she said.
    "You smell amazing." Greg laughed. He looked at Becca. "He knows he smells amazing, and so do the rest of us. I was joking when I said he stunk." He gestured at me. "He got it. Didn't you?" I smiled at him and was about to open my mouth to speak to him when Becca cut in.
    "Don't answer that," she said. "I think I should probably give you a ride back to your hotel."
    "I'd like to see how the house comes together if he doesn't mind."
    "I don't mind at all, young chap." He seriously did call me chap, which mortified Becca and in turn made me smile. We stayed at her house for the next two hours, cutting up with cards and getting poker tips from Greg. It was after 9PM when we drove back to my hotel.
    I had no plans to ask her to stay the night with me, but the closer we got to my hotel, the more I started to dread saying