Landfill

"Ryan." I hummed his name, "What brings you to my table?"

"Curiosity, sweetie." His hands unfolded to grasp his coffee cup.

I eyed him, watching his movements; "You went to Starbucks and came here." I stated.

His lips formed a smile now, "I saw you."

"Are you stalking me?"

He laughed, his smile is almost childlike; "No, not at all. I see you around and I couldn't help myself this time... I had to talk to you."

I was beginning to rethink the motives of this guy; Ryan. He's seen me around, I wonder if he moved here or if he's lived in Vegas all his life. I've lived here for 6 years and yet, I've never ran into him. Could it be that I've been oblivious to the men around me? Or, rather boy; this guy -Ryan- looks like a boy.

"How old are you?" I asked him curiously.

"23." He answered as he wrapped his hand around his elbows and again leant forward, "How old are you?"

I smirked, tapping finger on my white coffee mug, "You are not 23."

Ryan nodded, and unwrapped his hands. I watched as he reach into his pocket, "August 30th, 1981." He added as he showed me his ID.

His first name isn't Ryan. It's George. George R. Ross III.

"Your name is George." I stated as I leaned back in my chair.

"Yeah, my middle name is Ryan."

I hummed as he put away his ID. I put my hand into my rucksack on the back if my chair. I pulled my wallet from beneath the lip of the opening and opened it. I showed him my ID; being completely fair to the situation.

"Nicole Navarro, November 9th, 1980." Ryan smiled, "Organ donor. 5'4... 125 pounds." He looked at me, "You're perfect."

"Are you going to take my organs and eat me or something?" I blurted out sardonically.

Ryan laughed, "No, I don't eat people. I meant no harm or danger; I really meant is that you're perfect."

"Perfect? Perfect for what?" I placed my wallet back into my bag.

"You're just the perfect girl."

I eyed him as I sat forward, "You're still dancing around the question, Ryan."

Ryan sipped his drink, I watched his throat bob as he swallowed and then set his eyes on me, "You're perfect for me."

"How so?"

"You're just my type." His answer was quick and almost bashful.

I raised a brow, "You're flirting with me." I bit back laughter.

"Maybe." His cheeks turned a nice shade of pink.

I grabbed my bag, feeling this weird sensation take over. I didn't want this. I didn't want to come off so rudely, but this was too much. Too much to explain to him; even if I did know him.

I stuff my lap top into my bag and stood up. Ryan's eyes were set on me still, but I couldn't meet them. I simply stood with my bag and looked over his head.

"Where are you going?" He asked.

"I have a meeting." I lied smoothly, "It was nice meeting you, Ryan."

I couldn't see his face and I didn't wait for a reply from him. My ears buzzed with the newbies and virgins ordering drinks. I left Queen Tea's quickly, heading down the block, towards the street leading toward my apartment.


I stared at my laptop evilly as it taunted me from the table on my balcony. The gazebo, I believe, was my solitude, but again, Nikkie Jr. was fucking with me.

I lit a cigarette and got up, leaning over the ledge of the balcony to look over Fremont street. The bright lights of the city are beautiful, but I couldn't enjoy it with the writer's block eating away at me. I listened to the honks and few shouts down three stories and blew my smoke in the air. A noise startled me almost immediately as I inhaled.

The steel casing of the fire escape rattled and shook, creaking when I looked down. I saw a boy climbing up it and shrugged; I leaned back and continued to smoke, looking down at the city. I was only brought from my hallow thoughts when long familiar hands clasped onto the side of the rail and brought a body over. I jumped slightly, gaining composure and wonder when I saw Ryan. I frowned, "What the hell?"

Ryan stood up, standing on his feet and let out a small pant, "Hello, Nikki."

"How the hell--?" I removed my cigarette, tossing ash from the fiery end, "How did you--?"

Ryan smiled smugly, leaning against the railing, "Fremont street isn't that big, honey."

I rolled my eyes, "What're you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood, and since I remembered I have a friend in this street I decided to visit."

I tossed my cigarette of the edge, eyes cutting to Ryan's smooth and nonchalant demeanor, "We are not friends." I muttered bluntly, "Now, really, what is it you want? Or, should I just call the police and have them handcuff and ask you the same question down at the precinct?"

Ryan's proud grin fell and his head did as well. He let out a tiny sigh, eyes forward on the ground, "I just wanted to see you again."

"By climbing my fire escape?"

He shrugged, "Sure."

I laughed softly, "You're something else, man."

His smile returned, "I like you."

"It's hard to say I like you. You're pretty odd and you could possibly be one of those Ted Bundy types."

He placed his right hand up, "Hand to God, I wouldn't kill you nor eat you."

As he dropped his hand, I dug my own into my pockets, "I've got to be honest with you, Ryan, I'm not looking for a friend."

He shrugged, "I can be an acquaintance."

"Acquaintances don't climb up fire escapes."

"It was just this once. I'd use the door, but I didn't think you'd buzz me in."

"You got that right." I smirked.

Ryan kept looking at me, eyes cast down again, "Do you think you'd ever be my friend?"

"I have too many already." I answered, "Sorry."

"Oh, c'mon!" His eyes met mine again.

The boy looked so lost and sad. A small puppy dog without a pack.

"I have to think about this. You're kinda creepy... Sneakin' up here and all."

He smiled again, "I'll be back soon."

I frowned now as he climbed over the balcony and began to climb down the fire escape. I went over slowly, leaning over the edge to see Ryan scale the rustic fire escape like a champion gymnast. What did this kid really want from me?