Regret Me

Thirty?

I woke up the day after running into Lizzie to the sound of my alarm blaring through my bedroom.

When I groaned to turn it off, there were three messages on my phone, the text hidden until my phone was unlocked. One from Mum, one from an unknown number which I assumed was Lizzie and the other from Vanessa, my now ex-girlfriend.

Leaving my phone where it was, I climbed out of bed and let my bed shirt hang off my body. I stopped to look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, biting my cheek when I realised it was Vanessa's shirt I was wearing.

"Fucking women," I sighed to myself.

Washing my face and then shuffling back to my room where a small, redhead was standing, making my bed. I froze and furrowed my brows.

"What-"

"Natasha," she replied, looking over at me briefly, "I'm the cleaner, your doorman let me in."

"I don't ... have a cleaner," I told her.

She stopped what she was doing, fluffed the pillows and turned to me with her hands on her hips.

"What do you mean, you don't have a cleaner?" she asked.

"I moved in yesterday, I- I haven't even unpacked yet," I replied.

"This is apartment 42?" she continued.

I shook my head slowly, a slightly awkward laugh slipping off my lips, "this is apartment 44."

"Fuck, you're joking?" she widened her eyes.

I shook my head again, laughing, "are you supposed to be in 42 right now?"

She hummed a yes, "I'm so sorry- I- oh my god, I just made your bed."

"It's fine," I giggled, "honestly, it's fine."

"I'm so sorry," she laughed, "I'll go now."

"Wait," I announced, stopping her from leaving my room.

She stood in the doorway and turned to look at me.

"You're here now, do you want a coffee?" I asked.

She thought for a moment and nodded slowly, "um yeah, I'd like that actually."

"Okay, give me ten minutes to put some clothes on," I told her.

"I'll be in the kitchen," she nodded.

"Okay," I giggled, closing the bedroom door and grabbing a pair of baggy jeans and a turtleneck.

Bringing my hair into a high ponytail and putting on my glasses, I walked back out into the main living area of the flat and smiled slightly at the confused girl walking around my kitchen.

"Natasha?" I asked.

"Hi, yes, sorry," she replied, closing the cupboard and looking over at me, "I was looking for coffee and mugs, but you don't have anything ... like ... at all."

"I told you," I smirked, "I'm still unpacking."

"So how were you going to make me a coffee?" she asked.

"I was going to take you out for a coffee, is that okay?" I replied.

She nodded slowly, "sure ... yeah."

"Okay," I giggled, "after you then."

I caught Natasha smiling and then opening my front door. As we stepped into the elevator, I looked down at her outfit. She was wearing a white tank top that was definitely not warm enough for a New York winter. Over top lived a small black leather jacket and a silver arrow necklace that sat on her chest above the visual shadow of her cleavage. Her jeans matched, they were black and skinny and had a slight glisten when the light shone on them. I didn't realise it, but I was looking at her the whole way down until the ding brought me out of my thoughts.