For Better Or For Worse | Rihanna

XX; Part 2

"Rob?" I called out as I closed the front door behind me.

No response, as I expected. Robyn usually finished her work days by 5, and it was only a hair after 4.

Though I had taken the decision to come home shortly after she texted me, I didn't bother with dinner right away. I didn't want it to be cold by the time Robyn arrived, so I planned to go back out in an hour to go get some food.

In the meantime, I headed to the kitchen to get a snack. I knew exactly what I wanted, so I began rummaging through the freezer for vanilla ice cream.

As I was doing so, an unidentified noise made my ears perk up.

"What the fuck?" I whispered.

I could hear some muffled banging around happening further in the apartment.

"Robyn?" I asked once again.

Still no answer.

"Fuck me." My heartbeat picked up.

I didn't have a gun or any such weapon, so I dashed over to the counter and retrieved the carving knife from the knife block resting by the sink.

Panicked, I tiptoed around the great room to locate where this sound was coming from. I heard it again, and this time it was most definitely coming from upstairs. Shit. This better not be my last day on earth.

I continued my creeping all the way to the stairs, where I mounted them one by one slowly. I established a quick course of action in my mind; the first rooms I would see upon arriving up the switchback staircase would be the first bathroom and the laundry room. It was unlikely that an intruder would be in there. So my best bet was heading directly to my right, where the Master bedroom was situated. Where was my phone? Shit. I left it on the kitchen island.

I stopped on the last step. By now I could hear distinct, rapid footsteps.

"This nigga's about to die," I affirmed, more to myself than anyone else.

I took a deep breath and rounded the hall quickly while preparing myself to pounce on the creep. However, when I crossed the threshold of the master bedroom, I realized there was no intruder.

Only Robyn, standing in our room with her back turned to me. She had an open suitcase and clothes laid out all over the bed, but she wasn't actively packing. Robyn seemed to be in the middle of a dance break, which I now knew was the odd noise I was hearing. She was wearing headphones, my headphones, and her feet were banging against the hardwood as she shook her body and her arms flew around.

I brought down the knife to my side and tried to hold in my laugh. Robyn was a good dancer by all accounts, but it was humorous that she had no idea I was in the room. I watched her go for another few moments, listening to her hum what I recognized as her very own yet-to-be-released collaboration with Pharrell. She continued until she finally turned around and saw me.

She gasped, fumbling backwards in shock. She clutched her chest with one hand and flung off the headphones with her other hand.

"Yuh boxy! Ya scared me, yuh know?" Robyn exclaimed.

"Chill out, island gyal," I laughed at her terror.

"How long have you been there?" Robyn was still trying to catch her breath.

"Like, two minutes. Are those my headphones? I've been looking for them for days. Matter of fact, all this is mine," I waved in her general area, unaware that I was still brandishing the long knife.

"Yeah... it is. Why you got a knife?" Robyn pointed at my dominant hand.

"My fault. I thought you were an intruder. I kept hearing noises and you weren't answering to your name." I put it down on the chest of drawers and walked over to her.