Obliterate

one

The prospect of living with a twenty two year old man was never in my sights, much less one like him. In fact, I never even planned on living with anyone at all. There was even a tingly, twisty feeling in my gut when I knocked on the heavy mahogany door that told me I was about to walk myself right into a bad situation.

He opened the door after a moments delay, just barely managing to pat down his mane of dark curls before I could really take him in. He was tall enough so that I had to tilt my head back to meet his pale green eyes, which were so delicately framed by his long eyelashes. His skin was fair, though not quite so fair as to out-pale mine, and the rose color of his lips was quite the contrast. Head tilted to the side, he gazed down at me with curiosity in his eyes.

"Hello," he spoke slowly. "What might I be able to help you with?" His voice was rather enticing, really. Each word he uttered was quiet and spoken with the utmost care for diction and pronunciation. He had accent as well, which I assumed was British.

I couldn't help but wonder if I had caught him as he prepared himself for an event of great importance to him - work or a fancy brunch, maybe. His white shirt was only half tucked into his black slacks, and it's hem stuck out of his zipper as if he'd done up his button too quickly in his haste to answer the door. A belt was missing from his attire, as well as socks and shoes.

"Oh, I...I hope I'm not bothering you. I can come back later if you'd like? I wouldn't want to-" I rambled on, my words flying so that they strung together.

"No," he interrupted my spiel, one corner of his lips barely perking up. "No. It's not any trouble."

The curly haired individual stared back at me with one eyebrow raised slightly above the other, prompting me to explain just why exactly I was there. "Well, the landlord told me on the phone that you were after a roommate..."

"Oh," he looked surprised. "Oh, right...uh," I could easily assume that he wasn't too thrilled about the likes of me showing up to impose on his privacy. "Yeah, of course," he said, giving his head a tiny shake to regain his misplaced composure. "Why don't you come in?" He stepped back from the doorway to let me in. I was pleasantly surprised at his invitation inside, considering that I had been positive that he was going to turn me away.

It was quite the lovely apartment (especially for a man in his twenties, who was presumably living on his own). It was clean and well cared for - no dirty dishes in the sink, no coffee rings stained onto the kitchen table. I spied small green plants, framed pictures here and there and a book forgotten on the table beside the couch. I turned back to him before I could get a very good look at the place, but it looked to be quite cozy.

"I'm Thea." I told him, shuffling my feet around as a nervous habit.

"Harry," he introduced himself. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

I nodded, biting on the inside of my cheek as an uncomfortable silence fell over the apartment. Feeling terribly embarrassed, I felt my cheeks begin to heat up. Was my entire stay in this apartment going to be so awkward? I reached up to rub the side of my nose with my index finger, and Harry chuckled. It was barely audible, more of a heavy exhale than a real laugh, but I caught it. "What?" I asked, my voice sounding a bit accusing.

"Nothing," Harry insisted, a small smile playing at his lips. I frowned, but he opened his mouth to speak again before I could continue. "Listen, I've got to finish getting ready for work, but the spare key above the door is yours."

"Okay." I nodded. "Which bedroom...?"

"Oh, yeah," Harry said, as if he'd just remembered that I'd be needing a room to sleep in. "It's the first one on the right when you go past the kitchen."