Fickle As a Tickle

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Her hair was tied in long dark blonde ponytail. Her features were like pixie. Like Tinker-bell but the rebel version. In dark black sleeveless top with a white skirt and heels that were inches long I wonder if it could be used to kill someone. Rachel Sutherland was a social princess beauty even though she wore killer heels that juxtaposes her butterfly nature. Besides, who wears heels in their own house?

Speaking of the house, it was an apartment actually. Furnished and a lot of natural light. With a balcony behind to over look at the tall green meadows. The living room where I am currently standing in was posh. A very very comfy couch stood in the corner with its back to the painted dark royal blue wall. The two rectangle windows with the same shade blue curtains curling at their corners. The floor was wooden, shiny and spotless. There was no television but a projector hung at the ceiling.

Rachel laughs. It was like a magical tune played in the wind. Could she be much more beautiful than this? "I see you love the place."
The Scottish accent made it hard to decipher but my ears were attuned to the dialect. My eyes bulged. "No kidding! I fucking love it!"

Rachel clapped her hands twice. "Perfect! Let's do a tour...or are you tired?"

I drop my stuff at the corner. Wiping my sweaty red hands against my jeans, I gesture with them. "Lead the way."

We go through the kitchen that would probably have Gordon Ramsay cook in it. I suck at cooking so I just made sure the essentials were visible and turned a blind eye to the rest. I followed her down the hall where picture frames hung on the wall along side of me in different formations. I saw several childhood photos. Few old photographs. Nothing of the present though, I noticed.

"This is your room." She sweeps the white door open and I tip toe in, excited to see where my next home lay. I whistle low. "Now that's a bedroom."

Four poster bed with white sheets. Small bedsides desks to keep my phone and personal belongings. A huge closet at the side. The two windows facing the opposite. The bed though. It called to me. I walk towards it, my hand caressing the sheets. My mouth drops open. "Silk sheets?"

"Helps to sleep better." Rachel shrugged. I wanted to scream in excitement but I control it. "Wow! This is perfect, Rachel! I'm truly grateful you are giving me this room for such a steal! I mean! Is it too late to say I love you?"

Rachel giggled. Again those musical notes. "I beginning to think we will be great friends. Shall we continue?" I nod enthusiastically. We walk out of my new room, head down further to another bedroom. "My brother will be staying with you. I mentioned it in my text." On seeing my worried expression, she laughed. "You have no reason to worry. He is respectable and I can assure you even though he has a...presence." I didn't like how she said the word presence. She continued unknown to my thoughts. "He is still a good man and he will be there when needed." Before I could ask her anything about her brother, we hear distinctive sounds of the door opening. Rachel smiles brightly. "I think Elon is back from work. Let's go meet him now!" She practically run ahead as I try to catch up with her.

My hair flies in my face as I enter the living room again so I dig into my pocket searching for a hair tie. Taking my thick hair I begin to pile my hair into a high top bun.

"Elon this is Kiera King. She will be your future roomate for the month." I was so busy getting the tie around my knot that I didn't know what to expect when I looked up at him.

Clashing ultra green eyes with my deep grey colored ones, Elon Sutherland stood like a giant several feet before me. The man was a fucking mountain. His forearms were built to break wood in his two hands. His face had trimmed five 'o' clock shadow. Dark and brooding nose. A defiant chin. He reeks of arrogance and masculinity. It was almost like he had them in his veins. And he didn't like what he was seeing. Which was me. Nor did I.

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