Killmonger's One-Shot Collection

Best Friends, Part II

Ron was in the middle of deep cleaning his apartment, vacuuming the floor with patchouli incense on the burner. His messages were going off and he knew who it was playing on his phone without having to look. He'd ignored the notifications for the past thirty minutes but she kept messaging him.

There were multiple attachments. Pictures of gutterballs and a couple of him from yesterday at the bowling alley. One of her face, smiling mockingly. Finally he replied.

Ron: You have no life
Melanie: You have no talent
Ron: You good enough at handling balls for the both of us
Melanie: Jealous?
Ron: Is your ass jealous of your forehead for getting all the thickness?

Melanie's jaw dropped onto her lap. She was in the drive-thru at Panda Express but now she had the mind to pop up on him. It was on sight since everyone knew she was sensitive about her lack of ass. She put her food tray in the passenger seat and changed her destination from Target to Ron.

She knocked on the door as though he owed her money and he answered it dressed in a white undershirt and light grey joggers, his eyes rolling the smallest amount.

"What," he said gruffly.

Pushing her way by him, she could smell that incense and see that he was cleaning. The lysol was sitting in blue bucket with the windex next to a rag and the vacuum was out. He waited impatiently for what she had to say, staring with a face that said spit it out.

"Why are we friends," she asked point blank.

"Because our friends are friends," he blurted just as easily.

"If that's the only reason, I don't think we should be friends anymore. I'm breaking up witchu."

"That's fine."

"...So you don't care. That's all you have to say about it?"

"Well you came over to my place to spit bullshit and that's the conclusion you came to. What did you expect me to say?"

"I don't know, maybe let's discuss this? You're being rash? I care about our friendship? Something."

"Let's discuss this. You're being rash. I care about our friendship," he sighed in the most monotone voice he could muster, wiping his eyes.

"This is why I'm always on your ass, you're so fucking rude for no reason, like-"

"No it's with reason.."

"I'm being serious, trying to figure out a way we can relate to each other without being at each other's throats."

"I understand that," he nodded. "Do you understand that your typical m.o. is to be a bitch unprovoked because you think it's hilarious for some reason. You can't take it when someone meets that energy."

"Did you just call me a bitch," Melanie's head tilted trying to understand what she'd heard.

"I didn't call you a bitch. You tend to ACT like one. We'd get along much better if you'd relax and get off my dick, unless you like it there for some reason," he blinked. Melanie's words failed her, her nostrils flaring. She just had feelings that she was sorting through as she stood there, staring. "You're welcome to stay, but I do need to finish cleaning," he said walking off to grab the vaccum. It was loud, too loud for her to talk over.

She watched his back as he walked away with it to reach more parts in the hall. The view of his biceps, arm vein, and the thin shirt clinging to his defined back did things to her that she couldn't say. "...I'll be back," she called watching him on her way out. "Getting my food from the car. Don't lock me out."