Catherine
I vow to never make any form of physical contact with things that would give me a headache the morning after. As much as I wanted the emotional frustrations out last night, the aftermath wasn't worth it. Why did I even think of drinking? I had low alcohol tolerance.
I got up, groaning. My brain felt like it was on a roller coaster ride every time I tried to move my head in any direction. I knew I wasn't going to throw up, but it felt like I had a lump in my throat and I have no idea on how to get rid of it. Grabbing a cotton shirt, I slowly made my way to the bathroom. It felt like I barely closed my eyes when in reality, I slept for half the day.
I lived alone and I always made sure everything was locked before I went to bed.. I don't want to wake up in the middle of the night with somebody trying to rob me. Nobody, and I mean nobody was to see the ladybug underwear set I got on sale last Christmas.
Facing the bathroom sink, I stared blankly at myself. My hair was a mess. As much as I liked it long, it was too time-consuming. But I kept it since it felt like a security blanket of sorts. It helped me feel more comfortable around people at work.
I started off answering phone calls while I was studying and somehow worked my way to a promotion. I was assigned to be on the lookout for novels that could, in my boss' words, make hearts flutter.
Of all people, why me? I had three failed relationships with very similar outcomes. Sure I said something about not believing in happy, riding-towards-the-sunset endings, but in the Editorial Department, I was the most... resourceful. Rather, I had a good sense on which books made hearts flutter. For the most part, it's all about the numbers. But every now and then, I find some hidden gems while scouring the interweb, stories that get readers hooked. I didn't keep my head borrowed in books for nothing.
I wasn't asked out on dates but I knew, based on observations, what girls would like. See, that's one of the pros of being practically invisible. I would hear what women were complaining about in cafes with their mimosas during brunch. After all that, they'd say : I just want a man who...
I've also heard and seen enough romances to know people could have the most beautiful weddings, the sweetest online posts and still part ways. Reading romance novels was an escape from the disappointment of being in the dating scene. It's also an excuse that some women have to dream about guys with sausage or candle-like fingers. Guys who would tower over them, have perfect hair,and call them beautiful. The kind of guy who would owe up to their mistakes and shortcomings.
Now that is the ultimate fantasy.
Finding these kinds of stories was easy. Most of the time, they're the same characters, in different fonts. But personally, it was especially challenging to give criticism when we handled authors that wrote erotica. I mean who am I to give a critique about something that wasn't my area of expertise.Reading the manual doesn't necessarily mean I knew how to operate the machinery.
Back when I hadn't found out that Glen was doing the hokey pokey with my sister, he did shoot his shot. He missed though. Mainly because his hand chose to wander while we were eating at a family restaurant. I've read enough novels to know that this was supposed to be "exciting". Books and movies made it seem like a hush hush scenario. It wasn't. I ended up spilling wine on myself when I avoided him the second time he tried that night. It's not like I was being Miss Goody Two Shoes. Or maybe I was. I grew up with my parents telling me that I should find someone special. Eager to please, I did what I was told. Now look at me.
The sound of my stomach growling made me take out my toothbrush. I remember having a chocolate bar before downing half of the wine, so that wasn't a shocker. After brushing my teeth, I stepped out of the bathroom and went straight to the living room.
My neighbors didn't mind me playing loud music simply because my apartment was at the very end of the third floor and it had thick walls, it was basically soundproof. The only thin wall was between my bedroom, and the room next to it. I had an agreement with the landlady that I would be willing to share the apartment if need be. I could save more this way.
An impromptu trip to Europe in case I have a mental breakdown wouldn't be cheap.
I wasn't much of a dancer, but I made my way to the kitchen, occasionally closing my eyes and shaking my hips. I don't even know the title of the songs coming out these days.
I did mention that I lived alone, right?
When I turned the corner to the kitchen, I saw the figure of someone bending over my fridge. I had one of those smaller models, so the man was practically crouching to get glob knows what.
"Who... How did you get in here?" It was hard for me to find the right words to say. He didn't seem to hear me so I started walking sideways, hoping that he wouldn't notice that I was making my way to the knife set on the counter.
My valuables were still there so I don't think he was stealing. And it looked like he'd been here for a while so it wasn't me that he was interested in.
The man straightened up, looking at the apple that he was holding.
If it was physically possible for my jaw to drop, it would have.
While he was searching through my fridge, I had a nice view of his...bottom. Couldn't really blame me. He was wearing low-rise jeans. He had olive skin but his arms were a few shades darker, typical for people who are often out and about. He also had a nice back. Something that I secretly like looking for when flipping through magazines. Rose, the one friend I have from work, told me it might be a fetish of mine. I beg to differ. Catherine Wright does not have a fetish.
My hand finally made contact with a knife handle and I mustered enough courage to talk.
"Stealing other people's food is a crime."
Well, okay. Great job, Catherine. Get that big brain of yours working.
I should be threatening him. Not pointing out the obvious.
The man was a lot taller than I was. Bigger, too. But I had a knife, and he was made of flesh (and a couple of hard muscles that could be easily injured by a knife.)
The food thief slowly turned his body to where I was. I brought the knife in front of me just in case he got any bad ideas.
My eyes widened in recognition.
I knew him!
Not by name obviously, but I'm pretty sure he was the man from last night. His dark hair was still a mess and his eyes made me think he hasn't been getting enough sleep. He yawned before taking a bite off my apple.
"Did you follow me home?" It was taking a lot from me not to piss myself right there and then.
He was the same man who almost killed me last night alright. And now he's in my kitchen like he owns it, half-naked, and stealing my food.
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Damon
I raised an eyebrow as I looked at the knife pointed at me, then at the woman holding it.
"It's just an apple," I said.
"It's my apple," she insisted. I moved my hand to give the fruit to her, but she gripped the knife tighter. I raised my hands to let her know I didn't mean her any harm.
The woman was eyeing me like I just murdered someone. I took a small step forward, and she took a big step back. I gave up after two steps when she bumped into the counter. If there was one thing nature channels taught me, it's that you never approach a small animal when they're in panic mode. Some of them look cute but have claws and teeth that could tear off your face. In this case, it was a woman with a knife.
"I wasn't expecting to be greeted by a knife-wielding roommate," I murmured. Giving up, I stepped back carefully and reached for the peeler that I left next to the sink. Work has been pretty hectic and I was barely getting enough sleep. I looked over my shoulder to see that she looked as awful as I was.
"A knife-wielding what?"
Biting a small piece from the apple, I took my time on chewing and swallowing before I replied.
"I'm moving in, Bambi," I said, smiling. I could barely keep my eyes open. The place felt warm and the soft humming sound coming from the fridge wasn't really helping me stay awake.
"Bambi's a boy." She was looking at me with this confused expression on her face. Maybe because I looked like I was half-awake that she slowly let her guard down.
I frowned before replying. "I don't think so. Bambi's a girl. Why do you think they use Bambi eyes to describe –"
"Because Bambi's eyes were innocent and pure. It's a metaphor." She looked annoyed and it was enough encouragement for me to annoy her some more. It was better than her being afraid.
The sunlight coming from the kitchen window shone on her face as she slowly moved to her right. She kept eyeing the door, just waiting for the perfect time to escape. She had Bambi eyes. They reminded me of the round sweets I used to sneak in at The Garage when I was a kid. One of the guys at the shop told me they were called bonbons.
She shook her and stood behind one of the stools in the kitchen. "And what do you mean by "roommate? What exactly are you doing here? How did you get in here?"
I wiped my hands on my jeans before looking her straight in the eye.
"I don't have a dictionary on me right now, but I believe a roommate is someone you share a space with. Not every space, but most spaces in a house. I have a key."
I knew she was smart enough to know that I did give her the right answers. I could almost see the gears in her brain working, trying to make up what was happening. She looked up at me and I waited for the question she's about to dish out.
"Who are you..?"
Attempting to look noble, I bowed with one hand behind my back. "Well, that's easy. My name's Damon Grace. And I, " I placed a hand on my chest and gave her a smile that I hoped would get her mind off what I was about to say next. "am your answered prayer."
She gasped like it was her first time breathing in air. She was buying liquor the night before so I was sure if she had a mild headache a while ago, she was definitely feeling it now. My eyes wandered to where her hands were. It was safe to say, but probably not out loud, that she was wearing polka dots underneath that shirt.
"A wha—answered prayer?" Her face was starting to turn beet red. I gave her a moment until I saw a flash of recognition on her face. I nodded as she finally made eye contact with me.
"I'm the distraction."
When it seemed like she would almost lose her balance, I knew that she remembered making the request.
Of course she knew what I was talking about.