Chagrin Confessions

Chapter three: The letter

Tuesday, 13th of March 2018

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Grumbling at the sound of the alarm, I rub my eyes in order to try to relieve the heavy muscle weight of my eyelids, while the pain stinging throughout my cornea lessens. I stayed up late at night answering around fifty more letters, only to stop when the Swiss cuckoo clock chimed three times.

Throwing my legs off the comfort of my bed, I stretch my limbs out, triggering a few cracks from my joints. I feel like I have the body of an eighty year-old. The last time I went to the gym was around six years ago. And the only reason I went was because Nova, my best friend, dragged me there - even if it was for two hours. The only reason I'm not overweight is because my body has a high metabolism, so it burns off anything I eat quickly.

So yeah, I'm one of those creatures who pigs down a lot of food, and doesn't gain a pound doing so.

Women love me. Not.

After using the toilet to freshen up and letting mother nature do her thing, I head down the hallway to the kitchen. My peninsula-designed kitchen is my second favourite thing about the apartment. I love cooking. Whenever I find myself free, I Google quirky recipes to experiment, usually from all sorts of International cuisines. I decide on having a turkey and cheese sub with a cup of coffee.

Heading towards my bedroom, I open my closet and stare. Deciding on what outfit I should grace my body with is tougher than getting a baby to sleep.

Thirty minutes later, I'm dressed in a creamy, short-sleeved shirt with a ruffled collar, and a black pencil skirt. This librarian outfit will be the go-to look of the day. Paired with my black three-inch pumps, I fix my Indomie-like hair into a messy bun, letting a few tendrils frame my face a little.

Grabbing my black tote bag, I throw in my notepad and head out the apartment. All I'm hoping for is that Tommy still isn't the Italian Stallion persona from last night.

I don't think I have enough back-up liners in my bag for that.

Reaching the lobby, I head for the exit quickly, crossing my fingers that he doesn't spot me from the front desk.

“Surely you’re not leavin’ without a goodbye kiss, Si?”

No such luck. 

Lady Luck hasn't bestowed me with her presence in a long time. Bitter old hag probably thought my metabolism was more than enough luck in my life.

Turning around to face him, while sheepishly grinning, “Oh hi-ya there Tommy. Didn't see you-“ lies  “Sorry, I'm in a bit of a hurry-“ more lies “but I'll definitely pass by you tonight. Won't miss another persona for the world.”

Smirking, he lays it heavy on the Italian accent saying “Mia amore, I know you're lyin’ through your teeth, or have you forgotten that I watch you come and go everyday. So I know when you're runnin’ ahead of time, and when you are late, no?”, while moving towards me. He continues moving that beautiful mouth of his, but I'm just blatantly starting at his lips.

“Cassie, baby?” he huskily says in a low voice.

Fuck. What did he say?

“Umm..”

“Mia tesoro, umm is not an answer to my question. If you keep starin' at my lips, baby, you'll give me a wrong impression.”

Coughing, I clear my throat and straighten up my back into a more confidence-emitting stand. “Tommy, there was something green lodged in between your two front teeth, I was simply staring at it thinking whether you had a Rocca salad or a tuna sandwich for breakfast. You should know by now that food always comes first in my thoughts” I have no idea if he would even believe the crock of shit that just came out of my mouth, but damn it, I won't fall. The fort stands strong here.