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Chapter 1
A gay robber in my kitchen
PLUS
finding the perfect black bra
EQUALS
a new boyfriend
There was a gay robber in my kitchen.
“Man, I thought the coffee-” Here he motions at my half-empty coffeepot which he was in the process of stealing. “-was hot, but you’re pretty fine yourself.”
And he was hitting on me.
“You like guys right? You and me, I say, we should go get a drink sometime. You know, like a date.” He gives me a grin. “I’m awfully cute, you know. I’m sure we’d get along great.” I decline, saying that I don’t date guys who steal my coffeepot. He pouts, still hugging the appliance.
“What if I stole your blender instead?” Before I could refute, saying that I don’t date guys who steal any of my kitchen appliances, there was a knock on the door. Instead, I glare at him before turning towards the door and opening it.
“Wha-” I’m not even able to get a word out before the gay robber speaks again.
“Oh hey Ryan,” he addresses the man standing outside my door. The man’s holding a box in his arms and there are a couple more at his feet. “My apartment is the other one,” he walks past me and out into the hallway where he opens his apartment’s door for his friend. He catches me watching him and smiles.
“We’re gonna be neighbors, isn’t that awesome?” Is there some new definition of awesome that nobody told me about? A definition where awesome is synonymous to torturous? “We can visit each other whenever we want.” Yeah, sure. Over. My. Dead. Body. He sticks his head into my doorway.
“Well, sorry to say but I have to go unpack some things.” Well, he might have been sorry but secretly I was jumping for joy.
“Oh the horror,” or then again, maybe not-so secretly.
I slam the door behind him. I lean against the wall and breathe a sigh of relief. What a freaking thing to wake up too. God, now I really need some coffee. Wait, coffee? Fuck. That bastard took the coffeepot with him.
After not finding a speck of black underwear in her dresser and deeming the sexy quotient of a pink bra with little bows far less than that of a black bra, Chantelle found herself being measured for a bra by a department store attendant.
“A 32C maybe?” Chantelle asked hopefully. “Or perhaps even a 36B?”
“You’ll find a rack of nearly Bs over to the left,” the attendant pointed over to a rack filled with white, pink, and baby blue bras.
Chantelle glared at the underwear. How the hell was Evan going to stop thinking of her as his friend’s kid sister if she was still reduced to… to…to this monstrosity? Just then Chantelle caught a glimpse of a hanger that obviously didn’t belong in this section. Obviously, because the hanger was carrying a black strapless bra. Chantelle grinned. She had an idea.
Almost over an hour later she was staring at her boobs in her floor length mirror. She had found some shoulder pads and along with some tissues stuffed her bra so that it fit. Well, fit better that is. She smiled at her reflection.
‘Just wait until Evan sees me now.’ She thought, smoothing down the ruffles on her hot pink mini-skirt.
“Hey, chill. I didn’t steal your coffeemaker. I just sort of borrowed it. For an undetermined period of time.” Chantelle smiled. That was Evan’s voice, Evan’s ridicously sexy voice. She ran up the last few steps, not caring if her skirt flew up.
“Evan!” He was standing in the doorway of what she assumed was his new apartment. There was another guy standing next to Evan, still going on about a coffeepot and petty thievery. ‘Well,’ Chantelle stared at him, looking the ‘fresh meat’ up and down. ‘He may be a lunatic, but at least he’s a hot lunatic.’ She turned her attention back to her central goal. ‘Of course, Evan is much hotter.’
“I’ve missed you so much!” Chantelle swung her arms around Evan’s neck and gave him a squeeze. “We have so much to talk about,” Chantelle started to push her way into Evan’s apartment, pulling Evan with her.
“No!” Evan panicked. “I mean, um, I want you to meet someone, yeah.” Evan managed to untangle himself from Chantelle’s grip and edged back towards the open door where his neighbor was still standing. “This is Jess,” Evan introduces him.
“Hi,” Chantelle gives him a painfully fake smile. “It’s nice meeting you but Evan and I have–”
“He’s my boyfriend,” Evan beams.
“What?” Chantelle and Jess yell in unison.
I think was suffering from some sort of insanity when I wrote this. But I kind of like it even though I'm not particuarly sure where its going. Any comments would be appreciated.
Thank you for reading.
