In Hate With You [mlm]

the second meeting

The clock blinks ominously at me as I rush around the kitchen, gathering my stuff in my arms. My cup of coffee lies forgotten on the sideboard; my toast sat, half-burnt, in the toaster.

I force my feet into my shoes, in too much of a rush to tie the laces as I scramble out of the door. The thin straps of the carrier bags are beginning to make lines in my arms already, my backpack tugging at my shoulders without mercy.

Attempting to ignore the pain cramping my muscles, I turn to shove the key into the lock, scowling when it doesn't fit. Wrong freaking key.

The key-chain jangles as I rustle through the other useless key-rings, searching for my flat key. Inwardly, I curse myself and my obsession with collecting key rings.

I heave a sigh of relief as the door locks with a satisfying click. My gaze darts over to the elevators, spotting the queue of people stood restless. The stairs it is, then.

My bags slip down my arms as I try to jog down the staircase, colliding with my hips and my knees. I growl as they hit the floor, tugging them back up my arms.

As I spin around the corner of the first two sets of steps, my ankle rolls and I stumble. Rattling loudly, my keys slip out of my pocket and hit the floor, bringing my phone with them.

With a swift glance at the time, I collect my keys and phone, putting them into one of the bags dangling precariously off my arm. I am so very late.

I hurtle down the next four sets of stairs, closely avoiding crashing into a few of the more elderly residents teetering by the banisters.

Finally, I find myself at the top of the final staircase. Skipping the top two steps, I make my way down as gracefully as possible. My bags swing against my legs and my face is flushed and sweaty from running down twenty-nine sets of stairs in ten minutes.

Again, my ankle rolls. This time, I'm on the edge of a step, with no flat concrete to catch me.

My eyes widen, my hands scrambling for the banister. If I fall down twenty steps, I am definitely going to be late.

Without thinking, I step back to secure my balance, only to find nothing there. Crap.

As I begin to fly, I shut my eyes tight, curling my arms around my head.

And then arms are wrapping around me, yanking me into a warm, safe body. I gulp in oxygen, too relieved to worry about who saved me.

"Hey, you're okay, just breathe," a calm voice murmurs.

Gently, I am set down on my feet, but my saviour doesn't loosen his hold. I blink my eyes open, glancing down at his arms and registering familiar tattoos staining the tanned skin. A flash of his silver ring glints in the morning light.

For some reason, the only sentence my brain can formulate is--

"Thank you for the cookies, uh, I mean cakes. Oh wait, no, pastries? I don't know but, thank you." My rambling stretches the seconds between us. His eyebrows crinkle, and I have to send him a second glance to check that he is - almost smiling!

"As a thank you, try not to need saving again, Mr-Damsel-in-distress?" He grins - freaking grins - at me.

"Um, yes, I will. Try not to, that is. I, ahh- crap." My brain proves, once again, that it is useless in times of crisis.

Two of the older women from our apartment block rounds the corner, speaking slowly to one another.

Hastily, I pick myself up, avoiding the man's careful gaze. He nods at me, all traces of amusement gone from his face, before turning to jog up the stairs.

As I collect my things, the women pass me, giggling to one another.

"Did you see Dante? Isn't he such a sweetheart?" She sighs, dreamily, and the other chuckles. "He's why I have grandchildren, y'know? Briana made such a good choice in that one. And his bakery is so successful!"

"I know, Doris, I know." The other woman rolls her eyes. "She did your whole family a favour by dating him, and having Ady."

My jaw tightens. I shove the last of my bags into my arms, swearing under my breath.

"Calm down, love. No need to be so stressy." One of the two tells me, smiling sweetly. I growl, opening the door to the apartment block with a huff and storming into the day.