Fatal Whispers

10. Shithead Collides With the Spiceybutt

Two weeks had passed by like the gust of autumn wind, and October was standing on my doorstep before I even knew it. While I had been mostly occupied with my work schedule, Camilla seemed to enjoy blowing me every now and then with her surprise visits.

She did bring the idea of taking me out on another date, but I was still very much anxious about it. Speaking of which, Stephanie seemed to have entered airplane mode. I was expecting her to contact me somehow, perhaps leave some creepy ass message. But there was nothing.

I had some high expectations from that girl

I climbed up the apartment stairs mindlessly listing out all the groceries that I'd have to shop for this weekend. The weight of my laptop rubbed against my begging-to-be-massaged back as I reached the last of stairs to my floor. It was the fifth floor. A cold wind blew past me, the chills being a gentle reminder to pull my zipper up.

Since my spidey instincts had been going on and off ever since that date with Camilla, I had come in terms to ignore them. Nothing out of the blue had occurred around me after all.

I rubbed my hands together, walking up towards my housing. Alison had left for another date with her cinnamon roll or else I would have asked for a massage tonight. Her hands sure knew how to untie every single knot twerking in one's muscles.

My hands shifted over to the doorknob, not long before noticing a few cartons that were bunched up in front of door 114.

Dayumnn so someone's finally moving in.

It would be a pleasure to have some company around, especially with Halloween coming around. I fetched the keys out of my pocket all the while grinning from ear to ear. I'd love to go for an Adora-Catra look for the party this time, given that Alison and I do manage to convince our dates to join us.

"What the fuck?" I was pulled out of my rainbow-y thoughts as the door budged open before I could even twist the keys in. Something smelled fruity.

-I meant fishy.

I retrieved the good ol' pocket knife out of my workbag and croak the door open. Even though Burglars weren't much of a thing in this district, there was a good chance that the intruder wouldn't be friendly. My other hand held the phone with 911 just a click away.

There was a big chance that Alison would have left the place unlocked. It sure as hell wouldn't have been the first time to it. The apartment was eerily silent, darkness shrouding every corner of the place.

Except for the kitchen, that is

"Ally, you came early?"

I called out, switching the lights on in the living room. It might have not been the smartest move in my book, but I could always run out the door if there was someone dangerous raiding a millenial's kitchen. I jumped at my place as a blonde head poked out, but it wasn't the usual blonde that I expected it to be, rather a military cut chicken-head with eyes that carried the same shade as my bestie's.

"Steve?" Brows threaded together, my jaw hung low upon seeing the brawny guy step out of the kitchen. With his navy blue shirt stretching uncomfortably over those buff muscles, Steve made his way towards me.

"Sup Spiceybutt! Long time no see"

And before I knew it, his burly biceps crushed me into a bone-munching 'bear' hug, bear not being just a metaphor this once. I tried patting his back, but since I was an average-built human being with a below average endurance towards such inhumane affection, I pulled out of the hug quickly.