Devil's Food Cake [✓]

44 | south pacific

As I was making it my prerogative to check out his kitchen, I heard Zachary's voice calling out to me. I was staring at his near empty fridge; it was a sad sight seeing a half-empty carton of semi-skimmed milk, a jar of peanut butter and what looked like a stick of celery trapped in the plastic bit.

The noise come from the direction of the previously forbidden quarters of his flat were getting too loud to ignore. I dragged myself back out of his sad little kitchen and into the corridor, following the sound of his voice until I stopped beside a door, which I presumed was the bathroom. It had been about twenty minutes since he'd left me to explore his den of inequity — it wasn't anything special.

'What?' I knocked on the door. 'What do you want?'

I could hear the shower running, splashing agains the tiles. Zachary shouted out something, which I failed to understand over the sound of the water.

'Say again?' I said.

The water stopped abruptly.

'Give me a towel,' he growled.

I paused, taking in his words. 'Uh... don't you have one in there?'

'Hmm. Let's have a think about that,' he said slowly, 'If I had one, why would I bother calling out to you?'

I rolled my eyes at his sarcasm. 'Look, smartass, I didn't sign up to be your housemaid. I'm just a guest.'

'Candice, just get the towel.'

'Why didn't you take it in with you?' I continued.

'Sometimes people forget. Besides, what are you worried about? I'm the one in the vulnerable position in here.'

'I have a boyfriend,' I said with force. Then I cringed at myself. Why had I just said something so... stupid? However, I could never be too sure with him — he wasn't exactly innocence personified.

You could never trust someone so roguish.

'Boyfriend schmoyfriend.' He sounded bored. 'Look, we can spend all night arguing about this or you can do as I say. The towel's on the bed. Room at the end of the corridor.'

I scowled at the bathroom door and walked towards his bedroom. Now he was treating me like I was a dog? I guess he was right in more ways than one when he had jokingly called me his 'pet'. I was starting to feel as though Zachary was using and abusing me instead of enjoying my company.

'Some friend,' I grumbled to myself as I grabbed his fluffy white towel from his neatly made bed.

'Best fiend, more like.' I didn't spend too much time in there; it felt weird to enter into his private space. I saw a couple of books on the bedside table and a framed photograph of him and his younger sister Heather posing on a fancy yacht. They looked content, the sunlight creating a halo effect over their heads. I suppose it was touching to see he did have a heart; he loved his sister.

Still, it didn't excuse annoying behaviour and quirks. And trust me, I was usually tolerant of most people, it's just that whenever I was around him, there seemed to be an influx of problems. Things never seemed to go... swimmingly.

As I was walking down the corridor, I heard a silky, baritone, All-American voice singing the most ridiculous song. I couldn't believe that he was singing that particular song from South Pacific!

'I'm gonna wash that gal right outta my hair,

I'm gonna wash that gal right outta my hair,

I'm gonna wash that gal right outta my hair,

And send her on her way.'

'You can't fix an egg when it ain't quite good,