𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐇𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬

twenty-one. | after/twenty-two.

after
twenty-two

I grind my teeth back and forth.

My head is pounding.

My stomach feels like the bottom of a toxic waste pit.

And the source of the drilling through the wall is to blame.

Or his honey to be more exact.

I about rip the door off it's hinges to find Anaca installing new cabinets that much have been delivered first thing this morning. With entire Casamigos bottle gone, we managed to finish painting the kitchen and he'd moved on to the living room while I went from shots to cup fulls.

He changed the configuration of the kitchen, but I couldn't care less right now.

"Do you really have to be doing that right now?" I growl.

He straightens his back, a drill in his palm as he takes off a pair of clear safety glasses with the other. He didn't drink as much as Auden as I did, but he has dark circles under his eyes as if he didn't sleep much at all.

He peers at his watch. "It's after ten in the morning."

"Doesn't change the fact that I am trying to sleep."

Anaca shakes his head and goes back to what he was doing, checking that the cabinet is level. "Rough night?"

It's rhetorical.

"I doubt as rough as yours."

Auden is a very handsy drunk. I wonder if you're still bendy when more tequila flows through your veins than blood.

"You shouldn't have challenged her to take a shot without making a face."

"Why?" I raise my nose in search of the thermos I know he brought with him. "Auden become too drunk to go anything but starfish or was she puking all night?"

That earned me a glare, but I found the thermos. I twist the top off and the aroma of liquid crack fills my nostrils. I have no reservations about taking a drink straight from the container.

"She's pretty ill," he goes with.

I hide my snicker behind another sip of his coffee, intent on keeping the rest of it for myself.

"Remember when you asked for boundaries?"

Anaca steps away from the cabinet, crossing his arms.

"Crashing my luxury dinner last night could be deemed as crossing one, don't you think?"

"It was her idea," his eyes narrow. "For some reason she is fond of you."

"For some reason," I mock.

His lips part to back track but he stops himself.

"It's unfortunate for the both of us that your sickly-sweet girlfriend is intent of being my friend."

"You shouldn't have agreed to yoga. You started this in the first place."

"How was I to know you were dating the equivalent of a Yankee candle?"

He scoffs. "A Yankee candle? Really?"

"Tell me she's not," I press, taking another drink. "She's all hot and homy. I think if you cracked her open warm goo might spill out."

He slightly lifts a brow, reminding me he knows exactly what spills out when she's cracked open. Pool noodles and candles must be erased from my brain asap.

"She's... she's a bit like a Yankee candle," he concedes, visually annoyed by it before going about his business once more. He grabs another one of the cabinets from the far wall with one hand and lifts it with ease. Not that I could ever forget how ridiculously strong Anaca is, somehow, I think he might be more so now. It never made sense with his slight stature before, but now... he fits the bill.