18+

“I think I just met the happiest person in the world,” I said as I walked into the kitchen, balancing a tower of boxes in my arms. “She was all smiles and bubbles as she offered to help me get all of the boxes up the stairs. And as I glared back at her suspiciously whilst trying heroically not to vomit onto her shoes, I asked her, ‘What are you so happy about?!? Are you high?’ And she actually said the phrase, ‘I’m high on life’. Like, out loud. Near other people. So they could HEAR HER. I nearly tackled her in a citizen’s arrest right then.”

Klint looked up as I came into the kitchen and quickly shoved himself away from the counter, reaching out to grab the top two cardboard boxes I was balancing as they began their sidelong descent towards the shining linoleum floor. “So?” he queried, looking at the labels on the boxes with a frown. He seemed to be paying little, if any, regard to my exciting tales of his new neighbours.

“So?” I echoed disbelievingly. Did he want the tea on the cell mates of his new block tower or not? “So I’m having her disemboweled in an hour and making Snausages from her remains for my doggies. Want some?” I jerked my head at his two dogs, wrestling loudly in the living room. Then I heaved the remaining boxes in the general direction of his kitchen counter, before following them a moment later with my arse so I could rest my weary legs. Not to mention my weary arse.

“Yeah, sure,” he murmured, turning back to the sink and looking down at his phone once again.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” I demanded. What I actually thought was, “Who is she?”, but I was too smart to drop myself into THAT pile of poo and sputum, thank you very much.

Well. Not anymore.

“Nothing,” he said irritably, switching his screen off and sliding his phone into the back pocket of his jeans.

Definitely a chick, I smirked to myself, hopping down from the counter and sashaying past him, putting an excessive, totally superfluous flounce into my step, hoping to jiggle my cleavage and pull his attention my way for a moment. When he still failed to glance up and become entranced by my boobage, I screwed up my resolve and gave it one last attempt, calling upon my final reserves of subtle, understated elegance. I turned to face him and, clearing my throat loudly, pulled my camisole top up over my head and flashed him my naked breasts.

From the other side of the wall of black fabric and lace, I heard him clear his own throat. “Uh...Kage?”

“Yes?”

A pause. Prolly considering his words carefully, having, you know, met me before. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to refocus your attention my way,” I explained through my shirt with exaggerated patience.

“Huh,” the dark outline of his head nodded. “And why’s that?”

I yanked my top back into place and turned on my heel, flouncing out of the kitchen with an unnecessary swirling of my hips. “Because I’m your friend, not some temporary Ho-bag you’re boning, and I’d appreciate it if you’d pay attention to me while we’re together, rather than to your goddamn phone. Chase pussy on your time, you asshole. “

As I slammed the door closed behind me, I heard him call to his dogs in the living room. “Now boys, if I’m not mistaken, out that door just walked the second happiest person in the world. High on life, that one.”

And when I returned to the flat with the next load of boxes, I briefly considered vomiting into his shoes.