Mister Daire Downstairs

one

(A/N: dedicated to the lovely @15imels for adding the book to your reading list + voting + commenting! i really hit the jackpot with a reader like you TYSM 🫶)

One.

14th November, 2018

It was a good day.

Usually, you can't really remember all the things from a particular day, but I do. It was just so good. I even remember how I felt.

I was just about to turn twenty three, and with my last year in University, I'd decided to rent myself a place, a little far from where my parents lived. Eventually, I was once again thrown into a friendship with Inez. She studied in the same school as me, a year younger, and was also with me in the editorial board.

She told me that her sister, Masie, was looking for a paying roommate, and I agreed at once.

Well, not at once. I first examined the apartment, and then my parents did, and finally it was my moving day.

Before that, Masie had specially made up a little contract which had lots of dumb conditions. One was, for example, that she might bring home boys and that I shouldn't have any problem with it. I wasn't going to, anyway, unless they really made it intolerable.

That day, Mama had made several cookies, plenty for Masie and me to keep, and the rest in pretty little containers for me to give out to my neighbors.

"Food is a good way to always be in the good books of anyone." She said.

And I obviously agreed.

The tattooed up Masie wasn't really a big fan of knocking up and doors and greeting everyone with a grin. She believed it was Girl Scout's behavior and that she had been wise enough to not be one of them. Plus she said she was tired to visit all the four floors. So while she arranged all of my textbooks, I went on a spree with eight containers in my shoulder bag to impress all my neighbors.

The first one were the ones who lived just next doors to our apartment. There were five blocks for the entire apartments, and eight apartments in each one – two on each floor.

After them, I first decided to go to the very first floor, and work my way downstairs. Nearly everyone were welcoming. The operative word being 'nearly'.

Because apparently, people living on the ground floor weren't exactly grounded. The first apartment didn't open the door even after I rung the bell seven times – and there were people inside. I could distinctly hear the dragging of feet and the chattering. Feeling a little disappointed, I just shrugged.

Another extra pack of cookies for us, I thought.

So I moved on to the next apartment, and as my finger hovered the ring, I could make out the noises of people arguing. I bit my lip and rung the bell. I'd just greet them a little calmly – just to be cautious.

There were loud stomping of feet before the door opened and I was met with a cute broad guy, who tilted his head as he looked at me, completely confused.

I shoved a container to his face. "Hi. I'm Leticia."

He smiled and he looked even cuter, putting a hand forward. It was a kind one, like the one that are really nice to see.

"I'm Daniel. Good to see you, Leticia."

I shook his hand, balancing the container in one hand. "Really good to see you, Daniel."

Damn. He was cute. So cute.

His gaze did not leave mine for a second, and I felt myself getting all giddy. His smile grew larger when he said, "I love the hair color. It's something... extraordinary."

I had short hair that touched the nape of my neck at that time. And they were colored neon green. It was a phase, as I often like to excuse myself.  But at that time, when nearly everyone was cringing hard or looking with distastefulness, his praise won my heart. And I blushed. Hard.

Tucking a loose strand which wasn't even there, I murmured. "Really?"

He leaned on one side of the door, folding his arms, still smiling. "Mhm."

I grinned.

We continued chatting – well, flirting, before I realized what I had initially come for, and I shoved the container to his face again.

"I just moved in – in the apartment just ditto above yours." I chuckled, and he brushed his hair away from his forehead. "Here are cookies."

Just then, a loud shriek interrupted us.

"Have you decided to spend the rest of your life on the door?"

It was quite rude, I still believe, for if we – Daniel and me were allowed to, we could've ended up getting each other's mobile number then, rather than three years later.

He sighed. "Yeah, well, this isn't my apartment. I'm just visiting a friend." Then, raising his voice just a little, he winked at me and continued. "Who's really sick, you know, with a stuffy nose and all."

Loud stomps were heard next, and I have absolutely no memory of the next thirty seconds even today, because that was the first time I laid my eyes on him. On Oliver Daire, the most beautiful man I'd ever seen. Sure, Daniel was cute, but Oliver Daire? That man was just – beautiful.

I'm certain my eyes had sparkled.

"Hello?" He questioned, and I snapped out. I was staring. "Yes? What is it that you want?"

I smiled, but I'm sure it looked more like a grimace. "I'm Leticia,"

I wasn't even allowed to finish talking, before he, like an indignant ass, scoffed. "Leticia? Or lettuce?"

His jibe at my hair wouldn't have usually hurt as much, but I felt it was unfair. Because there I was, standing with a container of cookies he couldn't smell because of his well-deserved blocked nose, trying to be just charming and polite and nothing else and he, he, just stood there in his blue pajamas, being nothing but plaintively rude. And I, being a good citizen of the country, rightfully voiced my opinion.

"Excuse me, Mister whatever your name is, but that's not a kind thing to do – mocking one's name."

He folded his arms, so gracefully. "Okay, I'll just mock your accent instead." Which sounded more like ack-shunt, because of his stupid nose. "It's Oliver Daire, Lettuce."

Being a fairly young soul at that time, I was easily and quite wildly sensitive to things – I was emotional. When he repeated the name, I was nothing but reduced to near tears.

"Oh great," he sighed. "Now she'll cry and I'll be the bad guy. Sure makes sense, doesn't it, Girl Scout?"

But by saying emotional, I don't intend to stick only the moroseness. Because I also got angry and offended quick. Whilst I remained silent, my brain was quick in hatching out incentives – I wasn't going to let him go scot-free. I wouldn't let him be at peace in this apartment at all, not in my presence for sure. Glaring at Oliver with blurred eyes, I did the best thing possible.

Smacking the cookie container on his damned gorgeous face.