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Who doesn’t like to see the kitchen?
My apartment had to be my favorite space in the whole world; the open-concept floor plan gave me the freedom to not have plenty of furniture, just enough to make my space seem cozy enough, and I loved it. The beige walls brought a sense of familiarity to me. The monochromatic paintings that hung on almost every east-facing wall reminded me of home.
The interior designer I’d worked with did her job just right, and I loved each and every material and texture she presented. I couldn’t wait to move into my place when I purchased it.
“No, it’s cool.” She shrugged, and I rolled my eyes, not knowing what to say. “Did you know I liked chamomile tea?” she asked as she grinned, and I cleared my throat, shaking my head.
“Doesn’t everyone like chamomile?” I lied. I knew she liked chamomile because that was all her office ever smelled of. Chamomile tea. Eventually, I found myself buying it when I went to the store, and surprisingly enough, I ended up loving it as well.
God himself obviously made the tea. I could almost replace alcohol with it because it knocked me out every single time, but it didn’t help me forget. It was good, but I still preferred my brandy and scotch.
“Yeah, everyone does.” She smiled as she leaned back. Her eyes were a bit puffy, and it pissed me off. Just what did that douchebag do to her to cry so much? “I’m guessing you want to know about Jason?” She looked at me.
Why’s she smiling if it’s hurting her so much?
“You don’t have to,” I said, and she shook her head. Of course I wanted to know!
“I’m fine now, but seeing him again brought back all those begotten feelings,” she whispered as she sniffled. “I never told my Dad about him.”
I’d sort of figured that part out, especially since Jason never met Noah, either. Not that I blame her, but he was the shittiest person anyone could ever date, and I’d come to that conclusion just from his looks. Nothing he said, but just his appearance.
Sure, don’t judge people by their covers, but take it from me. JUDGE THEM BY THEIR COVERS!
“He had a tendency of making everything about him.” She placed her mug on the coffee table and hugged the throw pillow. “Whenever I wanted to do something that would be beneficial to me, he would say I should’ve talked to him first before coming to the decision on my own because it’s unfair on him.”
“The fuck?” I sipped my tea, and I could feel the warmth spread throughout my body. Everyone should drink their tea at room temperature—that makes sense. No one should be like Naomi, burning their tongues off.
She giggled and nodded, pulling her legs onto the couch. “Yeah, I remember I once got an internship at the International Institute for Sport and Human Performance.” She had a nostalgic smile, and I hoped to God she actually went. “He convinced me not to go, because ten weeks is a long time for him, and because he loved me.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I yelped before realizing I shouldn’t be saying that to someone I was comforting. “I meant him; what the fuck is wrong with him?”
Naomi laughed and nodded, as if she could understand my frustration. Of course I was disappointed! Why would anyone give up their dreams for love? Love? Please!
“I know.” She sniffled again, and I could tell she was going to cry more. Her eyes became glossy, but she looked up and shook her head. “I asked myself that for the remaining three weeks of the summer holiday, because he broke up with me then.”
“Bro,” I whispered. My heart sank into the pits of my stomach as she laughed humorlessly.
That is so sad.
“He’s a dick, I hope he falls into a ditch,” I said, and she wiped her tears, shaking her head. “No seriously, he let you stay home for him just so that he could break up with you later?”
“That’s not even half of it.” She raised her hand as she sat up on the couch. We were obviously going deeper. “He told me to change the way I dress because it’s boring.”
THAT IS A FUCKING LIE! If anything, Naomi really knew how to dress; her modern style and the mute colors she wore made her seem classy and like a lady. I personally found her style very attractive and sexy. Especially when she wore her bodycon dresses with her blazer and heels.
Yeah, fucking sexy.
“I want to beat him up.” I shrugged, and she snorted. It was good to see her smile genuinely and not waste tears on such an ass. “Giving small dick energy,” I whispered, and she screamed, laughing. She wiped her tears and took a deep breath in. “Really, he does have a small dick, doesn’t he?”
“I am not talking about his stuff with you.” She pressed her hand against her chest. “Anyway, that’s why I dress so boringly and modest becau?—”
“It’s sexy,” I interrupted her, and she looked at me, surprised. What does she mean by boring? Nothing was boring about her. I know I used to hate being around her, but fuck it, she was a great person to be around.
“What?” she whispered, as if she couldn’t believe what I was saying.
“I said you dress sexily and modest,” I admitted, shrugging. “You’re hot.” I could tell she didn’t believe me or she was really shocked. Grabbing her arm gently, my fingers spread over her smooth arm, and I pulled her onto my lap. She widened her hazel-green eyes. Her warm body pressed against mine; her eyes curiously searched mine. She was probably wondering why I was doing this.
I wonder, too.
