My Weirdo

Let's Ruin the Friendship

You are jolted awake by what could only be the slamming of a door. As you gather your senses, a beam of sunshine that is spilling in from a gap in your blinds catches your eye as it reflects off of a blurry mass of something vaguely tan sprawled across the foot of your bed. Ugh, it is way too early. Reaching over to your nightstand you fumble for your glasses, blinking several times once they're on to better adjust to the now crystal clear world. Before you could return your attention to the mystery at the foot of the bed, you're overwhelmed by the smell of soothing, warm peppermint. Following the scent back to the nightstand, you see a piping hot mug of your favorite tea steeping in the pink mug Chelsea got you for your birthday. Bobby really is the most thoughtful guy. Even if he is a door slammer. You think to yourself as you snuggle back into your blankets with your favorite drink in hand. Eyes closed, you slowly sip your tea and soon a vague recollection of the tan shape at the foot of your bed comes floating back into mind.

Still sipping your tea, you open your eyes. Pphhhchch you spit your tea all over your comforter. "Gary!... er... BOBBY!" You shriek, staring at the cardboard cutout, and a howl of laughter erupts on the other side of the door.

Bobby's bright amber eyes are the first thing you see as he swings your door open. "It's about time, Dizzy!" He laughs again. "I almost thought I failed to get you back again there for a minute!"

"It only took you three weeks." You find yourself smiling at him, not because of the payback for scaring the bejesus out of him when you put Rahim in his shower, but because you catch a glimpse of the patch of freckles on his right cheek that crease into a smiley face when he laughs. "Alright, prank master. You win this round. But don't forget who the real mastermind is." You laugh, proudly pointing to yourself.

"Don't you try and start that argument again, Cupcake." He warns, playfully poking a finger your way. "We're the Dynamic Duo. So we share the title."

"I guess that will work." You smirk behind your mug. "You off to the bakery?"

"Yeah. I'll probably be pretty late tonight, so don't wait up."

Waving him off, you hop out of bed and start your morning routine. It's been a few weeks since the interview and, much to your relief, Bobby is in much better spirits. You have only attempted to breach the subject once since you found out about Priya, but he still refuses to talk about it. Instead, he has been insisting on it being "future Bobby's problem", and to not worry yourself about it.

Easier said than done, you recall thinking during that conversation. It was plain as day that Bobby was in denial about the whole situation. There was no way it wasn't on the forefront of his mind constantly. Priya's upcoming nuptials to an investment banker have been plastered across every newsstand and gossip site for weeks. Social media was no better. #LoveSickIsland hasn't stopped trending on twitter since Leslie portrayed Bobby as a pining ex-lover and you as a jealous friend with benefits in that stupid interview. It is only a matter of time before Bobby will be knocking on your door telling you he needs to bake something, and you are determined to be ready for him.

Which is why you were glad he would be at the bakery late today. Working from home meant that you were typically around whenever Bobby got back, and you made it a point to hangout in the living room in case he needed to get anything off of his chest. But today you have meetings with your agent about some possible sponsorship deals, which meant you would be gone most of the day.

Glancing at your phone you notice your Uber will be here in 10 minutes, so you guzzle the rest of your tea and finish getting ready for work.

*****
Looking at the time as you walk up the stairs to your flat, you realize you should still have a couple of hours until Bobby is home. Perfect. I can decompress for a bit. With a skip in your step anticipating your bubble bath, you unlock your door and push it open. Immediately you are met with the unmistakable scent of chocolate chip cookies. And chocolate cake? Oh no. "Hey Bobs, you home?" You yell, throwing your purse and jacket onto the couch before trying to rush into the kitchen in the most nonchalant manner you can muster.