Clean up on Aisle 3

7.1K 162 267
                                    

The next day, Tom had requested that I’d come by his place at a bit later time – around three, but that didn’t stop his demands from being atrociously ludicrous. He’d told me to bring him banana nut muffins, and I’d been all set to stop by the local supermarket and pick up a cheap pack from the bakery section, but of course there was a catch. I couldn’t pick up just any old package of muffins, no I needed to pick up a special batch. He’d insisted on this foreign bakery, in the opposite direction of my apartment, of course, where the baked goods were priced astronomically high.

“Are you at least going to compensate for this?” I’d asked as I stared up at the board of menu items. “I’m not paying twenty bucks for a couple of muffins.”

“Tell them my name,” He’d responded nonchalantly. “They’ll know.”

He’d hung up on me then, something I’d grown accustomed to, and I felt my mouth go dry. I was certain that telling the stiff-looking manager I knew Tom would do any good, and I certainly wasn’t prepared to drop so much money on something I could get for a fraction of the price at the grocery store.

With clenched fists, I stepped up and ordered the muffins. I watched as the man delicately wrapped each in a small paper pouch and dropped them gently into a tote, and felt my insides clench as he punched rapidly into his register.

“That will be twenty three dollars and sixty-one cents,” He informed me politely.

“I… um,” I bit my lip, timidly meeting his impassive gaze. “…These are for, uh, Tom Kaulitz. He… he told me to tell you…”

The man’s eyes lit up and a smile erupted across his lips. “Ah! Mr. Kaulitz, of course – “ He pushed the bag forward enthusiastically, his smile widening, “I should have known these were his. Give him my regards, would you?”

I felt my eyebrows furrow. It had… it had worked?

“Okay…” I responded slowly, glancing down at the bag with a slight frown. What the hell…?

“Also…” The man continued, leaning forward slightly, “Could you tell him that my daughter loves the new material?” He grinned. “I think he’d like to know.”

Again, what the fuck.

New material?

I didn’t want to bother going into it, so I nodded and forced a tight-lipped smile to my face. “Y-yeah, sure. Will do.” I picked the bag up and waved lightly, “Thanks again.”

As I stepped out onto the street, the aroma of the muffins wafting up from the tote in my arms, I couldn’t help but feel unbelievably baffled. Who the hell had the right to these expensive muffins for free – and what the hell was the deal with the new material?

Shaking my head, I tightened my grip on the tote and made my way for his apartment.

His apartment was empty when I walked in. I stepped inside and winced as my nose caught the scent of something old – stale. I walked over to the kitchen, dropping the tote of muffins on the counter, and made a face at the sight of an empty pizza box sitting near the stove. Stale pizza. Nice, Tom.

“Don’t make that face.”

I turned at the sound of his voice, and my eyes widened at the sight of him. He was strolling out of his bedroom, a black towel wrapped snuggly around his hips. Tiny beads of water clung to his arms and chest and stomach – and I was disgusted with myself to realize that I was admiring his physique. It wasn’t bad. It was more than ‘not bad’ – he was… I mean, his body was… pretty…

Snap out of it, I told myself. Stop staring.

He crossed his arms across his chest and cocked an eyebrow. “You’re still making it,” He drawled. “Stop. It makes you more unattractive.”

25 Days with Mister ArrogantWhere stories live. Discover now