25 Days with Mister Arrogant

Apple Scones and Hangovers

monster chapter alert. this is long. seriously. i couldn't chop it in half or it would have been awkward. please bare with me and enjoy.

I was disappointed with myself when a surge of anticipation shot through me the next morning upon hearing a rapid knock at our front door. When I’d shakily made my way to the door, passing a suspiciously bubbly Paige in the kitchen on the way, I mentally scolded myself for the thought that it could be Tom. I was even more frustrated that I couldn’t deny that I wanted it to be him. Regardless, I remained composed and squinted into the peep hole, my breath catching in my lungs in preparation to see the head of dark cornrows confined by an exuberant bandana or knit cap. Instead of the smoldering brown gaze, however, I was met with the impatient cobalt gaze of my best friend.

I inwardly sighed, looking down, and leaned heavily against the cool surface of the door. Disappointment flooded my chest, creating an uncomfortable achiness that resonated straight to my heart. It was Victor.

It wasn’t Tom.

“Anna?”

I looked up slightly at the sound of Paige’s vivacious voice echoing from the kitchen, its animated tone grating to my ears.

“Who’s at the door?”

I cleared my throat, inhaling deeply and maintaining calmness despite the feelings of aggravation settling within me.

“Victor,” I called out after a moment. “It’s Victor.”

Almost immediately after the response left my lips, the realization hit me with incredible force. My eyes widened and an intense, new-found panic coursed through me.

It was Victor.

Paige was in the kitchen.

Paige thought that I was out with Victor last night. She thought I’d clubbed with Victor, drank with Victor, woken up with a terrible hang over from having a fantastic night with Victor. And Victor had not the slightest idea that I’d been out with him.

“Shit,” I breathed out, chewing my lower lip roughly.

Oh, shit.

The knocking became more persistent, and I knew he was aggravated, more than likely fuming that I was keeping him standing in the dingy hallway of our less than impressive apartment complex. Taking a couple of deep breaths in an attempt to relax, my mind reeled as I slowly opened the door.

And there he was, standing with an annoyed expression on his countenance, his boot-clad foot tapping incessantly against the grimy tiled floor. He cocked an eyebrow as I managed to sheepishly smile at him, my stomach feeling as if it were going to regurgitate any alcohol left within my system.

“Vic…” I cleared my throat gently, swallowing against the forming lump in my throat. “What a surprise – “

“About time!” he barked, pausing to shake a brown bag in his hand. “I have breakfast.”

I looked at the bag slowly, my mind still desperately attempting to find a way out of this potentially disastrous situation. He noticed my silence, and let out a heavy sigh, pushing his way past me with a confidence only Victor could exert.

“It’s fucking cold in your hallway,” he snapped, pausing in our foyer to shrug off his gray wool coat. “And it smells like musty ass.”

I turned sharply, closing the door behind me, the feelings of dread increasing within me at an alarming rate. “Uh…”