one - girl meets harry

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There's this guy, right?

He's lived in the apartment next to mine since I moved here, right?

And honestly, I think he hates me.

Never once have I spoken to the guy, all I know is his name is Harry, the cat that comes to see me every now and again is his and he owns a set of drums. Drums that's he insists on playing every hour of the god damn night.

Apparently, from what I've heard from the other neighbours is that he soundproofed his bedroom. Every square inch of that room is soundproofed, even the roof. Wanna know what he didn't soundproof? The wall that we share.

So no one else but me has a problem with the drums.

I believe the super's words were 'I can't hear it, so it's not my problem.'

Currently, I'm walking up the stairs to my apartment. I don't usually walk up because my home is on the sixth floor. But my ice cream was already starting to melt in the New Zealand summer. So I'm braving the stairs for only the third time since I moved in.

"Okay so, what you're telling me is that you wanna bang the barista that you just got your coffee off?" Ronny giggles through the speaker of my phone.

"Yes, that is exactly what I'm telling you, Cammy. Hes smoking." Her voice is hushed, indicating she's still actually in the coffee shop.

"We have different tastes in men, may I remind you." Clutching both the bag of food and my phone in my right hand, I use my left to push the door to Floor 6 open.

"So, even you would find this man hot."

"Hang on, is this the only reason you called me?" My key slips into my door and I turn it. And when I do, I hear a snap. My eyes widen as I draw my hand away, my now broken house key in my hand.

"Yes, you needed to know? Cam? Are you alright, you're awfully quiet."

"Listen, honey, I'll call you back." Without another word I hang up the phone, dropping it into my pocket. Jiggling the handle, I groan in disbelief. I'll have to go see the super later. But for now, ice cream.

Rebecca opens the door almost as soon as I knock.

"Cam! How are you? How's the weather treating you?" She's hyper. Or maybe just sleep deprived given the fact she has a four year old.

"Hey, Becks. I'm good, hope your good as well. And while I would love to stay and chat, could I, uh, borrow a spoon? Locked out of my apartment?" I say the last part as a question rather than a statement.

Don't think having your key literally lodged in your keyhole really is being locked out. To be locked out you need to not have you keys. But I have mine. I don't fucking know.

By the time my endless spew of mindless jabber has stopped boiling around in my head, Rebecca is holding a spoon out to me.

"Bring it back whenever. I would invite you in, but Lucy has a bug. Wouldn't want ya to catch anything nasty." I smile my thanks at her before walking back to my door, sitting in front of it.

Nothing, and I mean nothing will beat Ben and Jerry's Peanut Butter and Cookies. Except maybe Reese's peanut butter cups. Maybe I just have an unhealthy obsession with peanut butter.

Just as I'm debating in my head whether crunchy is better than smooth peanut butter, the door next to me opens in a hurry. I look up from my ice cream, and watch as a person rushes down the hall, gym bag over shoulder and rushing for the elevator. I watch, raising another spoonful of dairy goodness to my mouth.

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