Running Into Figure Six

Buzzing with calls, my phone snuggled up beside me while i was busy zzzing away my time, totally oblivious to my environment.

Someone was cooking in a beautiful blue and white kitchen and the aroma was extremely mouthwatering. To think i was visibly sucking my lips and moaning to the aroma with my eyes still shut, in a stranger’s room!

It was my favorite jambalaya, because I could literally perceive the shrimpy feel or whatever. Plus the ham simmering on fire was to die for. The cook was still washing the chicken, I could tell. And i thought if I opened my eyes, the whole thing would be gone, so I stayed asleep.

Awake but with my eyes shut.

Honestly, if I had been with a bad guy, he would had a field day with me at least five good times, without me knowing. It wouldn’t be my fault however, and I was definitely going to press charges. Not only would I charge the bad guy to court and send him to a long term imprisonment in jail, I would also charge his goddamned bed. Thanks goodness I definitely would get evidences of their assault on me.

It’s not my fault that this goddamned bed from whatchamacallit is frigging cosy and comfy. That’s an understatement, but it could fit.

Why in tarnation have I not discovered this place in New York? If any two lovebirds are cold, they can cosy up on this bed without any blankets, rather than by the fireplace. They really didn’t need any fire.

How could anyone have such a bed in their homes and not be sued for it?

This bed is the reason some other people’s beds are not so comfy; it has definitely sucked off the comfortabillity of every other bed in the universe. It’s warm, snug and plush. Owner must have busted a lot of dollars to get this set up.

I was already awake but did not open my eyes. If it was a dream, I would let it linger a while more because i was not ready for reality.

“Gerald, let’s make out here, it’s so comfy.

I wish you were here. You are really missing out. Missing out big time!” I laughed dreamily, snuggling closer in the bed, my eyes still shut tigh t.

I knew someone brought me here, but I did not know who, or why yet. I heard some music playing in the background too,

Music. Cooking. Cosy bed.

Heaven. I’m the most blessed, I thought.

But when I turned over in the bed, feeling my butt exposing a little bit from my movement, I realized it was only my phone.

Music from my phone.

No, not music. It was exploding with calls.

I briskly opened my eyes and grabbed it, deliberately refusing to observe my environment lest my dream disappeared. Gerald was calling, Jessie had called two hours ago, and Stephan left me a text. Two technically

None from Courtney Michaelson.

Courtney Michaelson is not here or he’d already have my phone. Thanks goodness, I mumbled.

Then I clicked on Stephan’s text first, “Hi big sis, I miss you”

“.. So much. Call me”

“Aww, I miss you too, my baby boy” I muttered to myself and slowly began to take in my environment. This room definitely didn’t look like mine. It had creamy white curtains, stained with golden dots of purple and silver. Believe me, I was knocked back by the sheer size and color of the room.

It was royal-ish, but not like Gerald’s. This one was more colourful and exquisite.

Definitely not Courtney’s too. He could only own this place in his dreams, and in my nightmares.

Fuck you, Courtney Michaelson

Fuck you, Courtney Michaelson

Fuck off, six times.

Roast you, six times. In hell.Belongs © to NôvelDrama.Org.

This house was a whole palace. A king certainly lived here, or maybe a Prince.

I studied the walls and glistening marbled floor and I concluded in my mind that a Prince lived here.

I was preparing to turn to the other side to examine it when two things happened at once- the earlier aroma of the meal hit my nostrils again, and I was met with a pair of alluring turquoise eyes, across from me.

“Do you always talk in your sleep?” He whispered, studying my features. My eyes were wide open, but I was too stupefied to move an inch. He definitely had a smirk on, and I had to blink a million times to assure myself that I was dreaming.

It’s a dream, Clarissa. It’s a dream. Get yourself together

“Cat got your tongue now?” He said again. He was clad in a green vest that hugged his biceps and shorts that exposed his buff thighs that were a little bigger than Gerald’s, or maybe just as big.

Fuck, it’s not a dream. Did he hear me say “Gerald, let’s make out here” too? Oh no. Good Lord, no. Please. Let him not have heard it. If he did, please delete it from his memory. Puh-leeze.

I slapped my face and pulled the rest of my body out of the blankets in one swift move. It was him, and this was his room, his house. That I’ve never been inside of.

And… wait. He’s back!

It didn’t make any sense. So, I slapped myself again. That action pushed a short laugh out of him.

“Stop hitting yourself so much. It’s not a dream. You are really here, Clarissa” he paused to stare at me, smiling.

“But who the hell is Courtney Michaelson? You keep mentioning his name and asking him to fuck off” when he did not get an answer from me, he continued,

“I brought you home last night but I couldn’t get your keys to open your door. You probably lost it in the bar or something ”

“Rooney?” I double-checked. It was him.

“If you could wait, I’m already making breakfast. I’m sure you had nothing to eat last night” That aroma was not a dream. Someone was really cooking. Rooney was cooking.

“What is it? What are you cooking?” I stupidly asked, jumping off his bed.

“Jambalaya” he mumbled, getting up. Then before he could return to the kitchen, I did the most unimaginable thing- I hopped onto his chest and hugged the hell out of him.

“Rooney, it’s you! Where have you been?”

Now he was definitely going to call me the usuals- an immature adult or a round-butt, lonely pig. But he called me neither. Instead, he pushed me off him gently and said, “I’ll tell you at breakfast, neighbour”

While I was still recovering from the shock, he added,

“Don’t go anywhere please. You should eat something, if you want to stop throwing up so much”

Even though he was just being factual when he called me ‘neighbour’, I immediately became very embarrassed my by stunts.

Plus he had confirmed that I had thrown up multiple times the previous night.

I had hugged him too. No, I had hopped onto my annoying neighbour’s shoulders and stayed there, out of sheer excitement . Damn! I would never be able to look him in the eye anymore.

When I was sure he was not looking, I took my phone, passed through his doorway as quietly as I could, and ran out of his house, towards the quarters.

Unluckily, the key to my front door was not in my pockets. He had said so.

“Fuck! What do i do now?” I thought. My dress and my mouth reeked of alcohol. My hair was messy, and i couldn’t even find my bag. I definitely looked like hell. Or shit.