Revenge is a dish best served cold

[intriguess]

High school was horrific on a personal level, sure I excelled academically and was friends with pretty much everyone, except for one, and he delighted in tormenting me, for the most part I didn't let it bother me, and it turned me into a very strong if lonely woman.

So she did what she had to, she continued to excel through a bacheloers and masters degree, friendly to all with no real friends, and for the most part still very much alone.

After all the hard work she finally ended up where everyone expected her to be successful and living alone. She had lost the weight she accumulated through years of stress, and finally managed to mend her relationship with her father.

The loneliness remained and when her ten year reunion invitation came, part of her was thinking of an old saying, "The best revenge is living well," at the same time she dreaded going alone. She'd been out of state for her fifth reunion and now kind of wanted to see how everyone had ended up.

So Mel was faced with a couple of options, go alone and hope to reconnect with a classmate, go alone and be miserable, skip it and continue her life alone, go alone and lie about a fiancee.

Every option just reminded her of how alone she was, and while trying to relax and soak in her bath tub, she was continuing to debate the options.

 

[intriguess]

Mel

Mel was used to life alone and doubted she could successfully pull off lying about a fiancee. Lying required so much effort, a background story, probably photos even. She sunk under the layer of bubbles and debated if she was desperate enough to hire a date. Or would that just be a different kind of lie?

A simple decision was rapidly becoming complicated and she decided that if she did take someone she would want to be assured of a good time one way or another.

She began thinking of the guys she knew, and their availability. It came down to either married, playboy, gay, commited to girlfriend, or wierd. As the heat finally consumed her body she thought of one guy who might work out.....

but would he say yes? was it worth the risk to their semi-friendship? more complications streamed through her mind as she washed her long reddish brown hair.

When she finally stepped out of the tub, little bubbles dripping over her curvy form. She wrapped a towel around her body and finally decided to give it a try. She would see if he was receptive tomorrow.

 

[Kuldaboli]

Byron. The neighbour

Byron was miserable.

Byron Harker was a screenwriter and an actor. His scripts were somewhat of a hit in the movie industrie and some of the stagework he’d taken parts in had made it big on Broadway. He’d even taken a stab at directing.

Two days ago he’d walked in on his girlfriend, Haley, naked on top of his brother, George. She’d been riding him so hard and so fast that he wasn’t sure he’d seen her hips move. When she threw her head back and let loose a gutteral roar and her entire body shook as the orgasm rocked through her, his world shattered.

Since then the small hard drive on his answering machine had been collecting phone messages from her. It started out with her screaming at him furiously for interrupting her ‘private time’, then went on to her calling him all kinds of names, like ‘ingrate’, ‘worthless bum’ and ‘not man enough for her’. But apparently arguing with a machine wasn’t as much fun as tearing a human a new one, cause gradually her messages started reflecting less and less fury. Pretty soon she was asking nicely to pick up the phone and talk to her. Then she started saying she was sorry and began spewing forth excuses at a speed normally reserved for fighter jets. Pretty soon she was whining for him to talk to her, and eventually she started begging, saying she’d make it up to him. Then, as the messages kept piling on his machine without him returning a single one, she’d pulled out all the stops and had begun crying on the phone, telling him how sorry she was and how she’d do anything to get him back. For two days his phone had been ringing off the hook, only to have the machine pick up yet another message from Haley.

Byron had heard none of it. He just sat there in his living room with three bottles of 21 year old scotch on the table and staring blankly at the opposide wall. Two of the bottles, were empty and the third was about a third of the way gone. His glass sat on the table next to the bottle, half-full. Finally the appartment was silent. Maybe the phone company had cut Haley’s connection due to outragious usage over the last two days. Hey, one could allways dream, right?

His eyes broke free of the staring contest he was having with the wall (he was probably never going to win anyway, stuborn bastard of a wall) to roam around his living room. His eyes fell on a picture frame on a shelf. Stumbling to his feet he made his way slowly half way accross the room. Picking up the frame he looked at the picture.

It was a picture of him and Haley. George had taken it on his boat last summer. They were sitting together with him hugging her from behind and kissing her neck. Haley had her hands on his forearm and was smiling at the camera with a mischivous gleam in her eye. All this time he’d thought that look from her had meant for him. That he was in for a wild bedroom adventure in the near future. But he couldn’t have been more wrong. That gleam in her eye wasn’t intended for him. It had been aimed at George.

The phone rang again and Byron let the machine answer again, still mesmerised by the picture in his hands.
“Byron? *sniffle*”
His features hardened when he heard Haley’s broken voice ringing through the speaker on the machine.
“Byron, please pick up the phone. Byron, I know your there. *sniffle* *broken sigh* Look, what do you want me to say? I fucked up, ok?”
Oh she’d done that all right. But then again, that wasn’t the only thing she’d fucked, now was it. He closed his eyes and tried desperatly to stave of the tears of fury that were filling his eyes.
“It was a mistake, all right? A stupid idiotic mistake. It meant nothing to me, ok?”
Oh yeah! That made him feel alot better! His fury was growing with every word from her mouth.
“*sniffle* Byron? Talk to me. Please?”
He could see her in his minds eye, pacing back and forth in her kitchen with the cordless to her ear, running her other hand through her long blond hair. She allways did that when she was nervous.
“Baby.....?”
His grip on the picture frame tightened as his breath became laboured.
“.....I love you.”

Those three words sent him thundering over the edge. The scene he’d whitnessed between Haley and his brother replayed itself, in explicit detail, a thousand times over in his head in the span of a split-second. Sending him into a violent burst of fury and adrenalin.

With a deffening, gutteral roar he sent the picture frame flying with every ounce of his physical strength. A roar that could probably be heard down the street. The frame shattered as it hit the wall. The wall that sepperated his appartment from his neighbours appartment. Mel’s appartment.

Spent and broken, he sagged to his knees, hung his head and sobbed.

 

[TheCentaur]

Fred. The (ex-)tormenter from high school.

Fred got home from another day at the dealership. Fast Freddy's Used Cars made him enough to get by. He'd probably do better, except he did have a reputation for selling a lemon every now and then and finding a way to weasel his way out of replacing it.

Fred was OK as a father, probably because he had two boys. As a husband, well, he wasn't exactly faithful. He could often be seen flirting with any cute girl at his dealership, and he could on occasion sweet-talk them into bed in additon to a set of wheels.

Something in the mail caught his eye, the invitation to his 10-year reunion. Sure he would go, he only moved one town over since graduating high school. Besides, last reunion was a great time. His wife backed out of the 5-year, being 8 months pregnant with their first and was very tired. He was able to salvage the evening by supplying a recently-divorced ex-cheerleader with a sleek convertible, after showing her the full benefits of the reclining bucket passenger seat.

 

[intriguess]

Mel

She had heard it while walking to her bedroom, CRASH. She hurried to the living room to see what, if anything had fallen. She knew the walls were paper thin and that the guy next door had gone on some sort of bender of late.

Guiltily she moved towards the connecting wall and listened, he was crying big time. She tried to remember the last women she'd seen him with, yes a manipulative little blonde thing. Mel had known that wouldn't last, but she learned the hard way it was best not to interfere, especially when a man is not thinking with his brain.

She debating calling him, she was sure she had his number somewhere. She'd seen him every so often in the hall and when he mentioned he was a writer, she'd said something undoubtedly lame about not being gutsy enough to try and get published. He'd been polite though and given her his card. So now she searched it out, and figured she'd better have a drink to bolster her nerves. She tossed two ice cubes in a tall glass, splashed a liberal amount of coconut rum and filled the rest with Diet Coke. She took a drink, sat down on the couch, still in her towel, her thick wet dark hair clinging to her shoulders in wavy strands.

Mel was glad her phone was cordless as she dialed, busy signal, she wondered if she had the right number and decided to call one more time. She doubted he was sobbing to someone over the phone. She took another drink and dialed again.

It rang through, answering machine, she almost hung up, but the message was short and she didn't know if he had caller id and didn't want to be known as the freaky heavy breather. "Hello, um Bryon, you probably don't remember me," she paused and took another drink, "this is Mel, I live next door and well," she paused again, maybe he wasn't in the mood to talk, "I was just wondering if you were doing okay."

Silence, and she realized she could no longer hear him through the wall so he had either moved or left or something. She glanced up to ensure that her door was deadbolted as she continued. "Anyway if you need anything, you know where I am." She waited a few moments to see if he'd pick up.

 

[Kuldaboli]

Byron

The rest of Haley’s message didn’t register in his head. He just wanted her to leave him alone. To stop torturing him. Finally the message timed out and the apartment was silent once again save for his sobs.

When the phone rang again he decided enough was enough. Why the hell couldn’t she just leave him alone? Stalking through the apartment, his frustration flaring, he looked for his cordless. He couldn’t for the life of him remember where he’d put it.

When he finally found it the machine had already started it’s greeting. He was just about to hit the ‘talk’ button and scream at Haley to leave him the fuck alone when the caller started delivering their message.

Hello, um Bryon,

He froze in place. That wasn’t Haley.

you probably don't remember me,

He knew that voice. He’d heard it before. The name was on the tip of his tongue.

this is Mel, I live next door and well,

Mel. From next door. He remembered her. Long reddish-brown hair, nice smile, pretty, his age, maybe two or three years younger then him, came off as a bit shy sometimes. Yeah. He remembered her. He’d given her his card when she’d made a comment about ‘not being gutsy enough to try and get published’. He’d told her to call him if she ever wanted to take the plunge. He’d help her get in contact with the right people so she wouldn’t get screwed over by the sharks in the business.

Haley had shown up at that moment and made a big show of kissing him and giving him a hug. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he’d caught Haley giving Mel a dirty look, that same time, when she thought he wasn’t looking. He’d always meant to apologize to Mel for that but never got the chance. To think Haley had the nerve to get jealous.

I was just wondering if you were doing okay.

His eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Why would she be checking up on him? Then it dawned on him. His eyes found the shattered remains of the picture frame. And then found the dent in the wall where it had struck. The wall that separated his apartment from Mel’s.

“Oh god.” He thought as he ran his hand through his dark hair nervously. He’d probably woken her up, or scared her half to death.

Anyway if you need anything, you know where I am.

He stared at his machine as if it held the key to his salvation. The line was silent. She hadn’t hung up yet. Her last words ran through his mind. You could say a lot of things about Byron. Byron was a lot of things. But he wasn’t stupid. He recognized a lifeline when he was being thrown one.

His thumb pressed down on the ‘talk’ button on his cordless, picking up the line. His hand trembled slightly as he brought the phone to his ear and when he spoke, his voice was raspy.

“H- Hello? Mel?

 

[intriguess]

Mel

He sounded half past dead, and she sipped her drink nervously. Mel got comfortable on the couch, secured her towel around her body and wished she'd planned what to say if he picked up. She cradled the phone against her shoulder and began playing with her hair.

She opted for diversion, "Did I ever tell you that in my previous neighbors used to enjoy themselves rather loudly and it was only when my Grandmother visited that I had the nerve to inform them that the walls were paper thin and that I could hear them."

She smiled at the memory and how they had managed to look embarassed and shocked at the same time. Mel found a comb and begin pulling it through her thick wet locks and hoped that he would either begin laughing about it or spill it.

She was unsure if she really wanted every lurid detail, he didn't seem the type, but she didn't think he was ready to channel his emotions into his work yet either. She avoided yawning and took another drink. She wasn't her best over the phone, people were hard to read and her ability to go straight to the heart of manner tended to sound harsh over phone.

Her first urge was to tell him he was better off, but she doubted he was in the mood to hear I told you so type of stuff as of yet.

 

[Kuldaboli]

Byron

He blinked a few times as her words sank in. Then the humor in them registered with him and he couldn’t stop himself from chuckling.

“Uh, yeah, uhm,” he said as he ran a hand through his hair again. The smile on his face was probably notable in his voice. How the hell had she done that? One humorous sentence from her and he was chuckling. They didn’t even know each other that well. “Sorry about the noise, it, uh,” pausing, he gesturing at the shattered remains of the picture frame nervously as if she could see him through the phone. “It was a picture frame, uh, it, uhm, well it, uh,” The explanation sounded lame, even to him. He decided to go for a different approach. “We were playing poker and the damn thing cheated.” The chuckle in his voice was real.

“That’s right, Byron. Hide your pain behind a burst of silly humor and idle chit-chat 'till it eats you alive. That’s what you’re best at, isn’t it?!” his sub-conscious sneered at him in a voice sounding frighteningly much like Haley’s. It made him wince.

Pausing again, as if realizing what she’d just said he frowned in confusion and looked towards his bedroom. Then he turned to look at the wall in question, before looking back towards his bedroom, and then back at the wall. There was quite a distance between the two. Nothing huge, but still. “Wow. They’re really that thin?” His voice held a note of surprise in it.

His eyes went wide as he stared back at the wall separating their two apartments. He remembered one night when he and Haley had been fooling around on the couch and soon they’d both been overtaken by their mutual lust. At Haley’s suggestion of ‘trying something new’, he had ended up taking her up against the wall. That… exact… wall. That night had been loud. Really loud.

His face went beat red with embarrassment. He was sure she’d heard his gulp over the phone. “Really.” He tried to sound cool. “Imagine that.” He buried his face in his free hand. He was sure he would never be able to look Mel in the eyes again.

There was a soft sound coming over the line. Like something delicate being dragged through strands of thick, silky, luchious fabric. It had been there all through out his rambling to her. It fascinated him to no end. “What’s that sound?” his curious words were out of his mouth before he even realized he’d opened it.

 

[intriguess]

Mel

"Of course that was when they had they bedroom right against my living room, and they used the bedroom for a home office. They invited me over to apologize, and I noticed that their bed wouldn't fit in the small bedroom."

It was odd, she could hear him laughing both through the phone and through the wall and wondering how close he was sitting to the wall. She avoided trying to imagine why you'd play poker with a picture, figuring it was a best left as is.

Then she caught his question, "oh, I'm just," drats, did she really want to say she'd just gotten out of a hot bubble bath and was wrapped in just a towel while talking to him on the phone. "Combing my hair," she almost tried to pawn it off as a nervous gesture but opted to say, "That's the problem with long hair, it's high maintenance." She almost laughed as they were very little about her that was high maintenance. Even her hair was fairly easy to take care of thick, non tangley and relaxing to comb or brush. It was on her list fo things she wanted in a guy, someone who would enjoy combing her hair.

 

[Kuldaboli]

Byron

He stood a few feet from the wall looking at the remainder of the frame and the torn picture from inside. Haley's face torn in two. "Yeah," he thought. "Two-faced allright."

At her reply, he chuckled. "Yeah. Long hair can be that. I used to have long hair. Well, long-ish, anyway." He ran his hands through his hair in rememberance. "My friends hated it. Told me I looked like a Heavy metal wanabe. My female friends liked it, though. Told me I looked like that Brandon Lee guy from that 'Crow' movie." He chuckled again.

Then he remembered something. That time when he'd given her his card, she'd worn her hair down and she'd tossed it lightly over her shoulder. He remembered his eyes becoming fixated with it for a split second. Concentrating on the memory. He found he remembered so many things about it. Thick, silky, rich, slight curles, radiating health. Haley had commented with a sneer that they were probably extencions, but he knew that wasn't true. Haley had extencions, and it showd. Mel's hair was too healthy for it to be a jumbled up mess of extencions. He remembered her hair being kind of hair that just begged to be touched. And you found you couldn't resist. You just had to touch it.

Mesmerised by the memory, he didn't realise how close he was to the wall 'till he had actually reached out and touched it. Breathing a bit heavily he opened his mouth to speak. His voice was a bit raspy and dazed. "Did you know that there are tribes in the mountains of Peru, where it's the husband's duty to comb his wife's hair before they go to sleep. Failing to do so is grounds for a divorce." All thoughts of Haley and the 218 messages she'd left on his machine had vanished. He laid his palm flat on the wall as if he could feel Mel on the other side. He felt a sudden urge to see her. What the hell was happening to him?
"I think it's a very noble gesture. There is something very intimate about combing someone else's hair." He had placed the tips of his fingers on the wall making a sort of human comb from them and was tracing it down the wall. He wanted to feel Mel's hair in his hands. Run his fingers through it.

Pulling his hand back slowly, hesitatingly, he looked at the wall again.
What the hell was he doing?

 

[intriguess]

Mel

She took another drink and realize there was something safe about the phone, even though the commercials said reach out and touch someone, you couldn't really through a phone. Even though she knew he was just on the other side of the wall it seemed dangerously safe. She had been told a lot that her hair was her best feature, some days she took it as a compliment but from others it seemed more like an insult as if too say the rest of her wasn't at that same standard. Few dared ask if it was real, but she did recall Byron's bleach blonde bimbette asking if she dyed her hair. It was one of the few time Mel had bothered speaking to her.

Mel didn't want to think about the bitchy blonde who undoubtedly was good for one thing and one thing only, the type that ruined guys for any sort of loving relationship. Mel stopped her racing thoughts and as he talked about combing hair she found herself thinking of the silky curly black hairs between her legs. She was low maintenance and preferred it natural, and once after a huge debate about wanting her boyfriend to shave his face had trimmed it. It had turned into a painful nightmare and effectively ended that relationship. Of course someone wanting you to do something you don't want to and not taking no for an answer became an instant turn off.

Her mind kept flipping between sex, bad relationships, and then sex with Byron. She bit her lip at the image of his fingers running lightly down her back. "That's the problem with American marriages, people are too selfish or too vulnerable." She paused realizing she didn't fit either category, "And if you are neither then you just never marry I suppose." She had finished combing her hair and it was still damp and she twisted it into a coil and laid it along her collar bone, feeling it drip onto her skin, the water sliding down between her breasts.

 

[Kuldaboli]

Byron

Her coment about selfishness and vulnerability struck a cord with him. He thought of the first couple that came to mind that could break those odds.

"Oh, there are the occational exeptions, I guess." His voice was wavering a bit. He felt alone all of a sudden. "My parents are the most giving people I've ever met. They'll give a perfect stranger the last meal in the house if you were hungry and give you their bed to sleep in. But if you cross them or anyone in our familiy, they'll run you over with the tractor." The last bit came out as a nervous chuckle. "They've been married for about 40 years, now."

He was pacing. His very being was filled with something. Like a burst of energy that he needed to release.

"But I don't think these things can be catagorized that narrowly. That if you're not like this or not like that, you're not ment to be with someone. I don't think people are ment to spend their lives alone. There's allways a sertain someone for everbody out there. The problem is they don't allways get a chance to meet. For all I know my perfect someone could be as far away as Madagascar," he paused "or, maybe, as close as, just right around the corner."

He ran his hands through his hair and stared at the wall seperating their two apartments. His apartment all of a sudden felt like a huge cavernous space threatening to drown him in all it's massive emptyness. He didn't want to be alone.

"Or mayb...." His voice cracked and he ran his hand through his hair again. He gripped the phone a little tighter. He could swear he heard the plastic crack in his grip. "Or maybe she's closer then that." His voice was so weak, he wasn't even shure he'd spoken.

 

[intriguess]

Mel

She knew exactly what he was saying, and he was right for the most part those that stayed married were neither selfish nor overly vulnerable. They were loving and protective. She felt close to him and was half a second from inviting him over, at the same time she could feel his vulnerability, his needing to be with someone, the grasping at the possibility of real love. She wasn't sure she believed in the perfect person. She believed that anyone could make it work if they wanted to make it work.

She knew of people who were always looking, never seeing what was in front of their faces. Then agian maybe she was always looking for Mr. Not Quite Right because she was afraid of Mr. Might be Right.

"I don't suppose you're hungry?" she mentally raided her fridge and freezer debating what she had available to fix relatively quick. "I skipped dinner and find that a full stomach clears my mind." It would take her about ten minutes to get dressed and maybe a few extra minutes to get something in the oven.

 

[Kuldaboli]

Byron

Her question startled him slightly. Hungry? He didn't know. Was he? He looked at his livingroom table. At the three bottles of booze. Two gone, one left. The sight revolted him. He'd spent all his time since finding..... since it happened drinking.

He hadn't slept, he hadn't showered. No, he hadn't eaten. He'd just sat there, trying to get rid of the pain, the only way he could think off at the time. He didn't know how long it had been since he poured himself that drink that still sat untouched in the glass.

The funny thing was, he wasn't drunk. He might not be as sober as a judge, but he didn't feel any of the effects he usually felt when engorging in drink.

"Uhm..... no, no I..... I,I,I haven't eaten. Uhm, would you like t..... maybe..... uhm....." This was not working. He needed to say something. Then the idea hit him. It made him grin a little. "Do you like Italian? I make a mean Pasta Carbonara." He just needed 10 minutes to get everything ready. And maybe cleen up a bit. And maybe a shower. And a shave. Ok, make that 30 minutes.

 

[intriguess]

Mel

"I love Italian," it was the honest truth, she could live off pasta and bread sticks. She was surprised at his offer to cook, but quickly realized that any activity that moved him out of his gloom should be reinforced. She still had the impulse to joke a little, "My kitchen or yours?" she laughed softly and stood up glancing over at her kitchen, it was relatively clean she didn't cook much just for herself. She doubted his place was in any sort of condition for guests. "I suppose you could cook it at your place and bring it over...." she trailed off that would give her time to get dressed and such.

 

[Kuldaboli]

Byron

Her spoof on the overly used pick-up line made him laugh a little. It seemed to roll off her tongue so easily. He felt all his tension leave him, as if a great weight had been lifted off of his shoulders.

"Uhm, yeah. I guess I could do that." he smiled.
A closer look at his apartment revealed that 30 minutes to get it all ready would have not have been nearly enough time. Try 90 minutes.

"So, I'll, uh, I'll get it all ready, uhm, you know, get to cookin', and then I'll, I'll be right over, Ok?"
Why the hell was he so nervous? He'd made this dish so many times he could probably do it in his sleep.

But this wasn't just any old time. Mel had reached out to him when he'd needed someone. Not many people would do that for an allmost perfect stranger. This was special. She was special.

"Give me 20 minutes, Ok?"
He'd jump in the shower and shave while the pasta got ready. The other ingredients would take him about a minute to prepare and he could whip up the sauce in no time at all.

 

[intriguess]

Mel

She almost said it was a date, but quickly caught herself, "Twenty minutes is fine." She thought about everything she could get done in twenty minutes, including clearing off the cluttered table and so on.

She hung up without saying good bye and was oddly relaxed as she headed to her bedroom and got dressed, nothing fancy, by not too casual either, something comfortable, she decided. She pulled on her usual white cotton panties and bra and looked again at her options. Her feet were getting cold and she grabbed a pair of dark socks and slipped them on while she mentally considered her wardrobe. Mel bit her lip and pulled out a pair of black jeans, a long sleeved navy t-shirt, and as she kept her appartment only moderately heated during winter slipped on a sweater.

She glanced at the clock, had she really spent so much time getting dressed? Mel rushed back out to her living room and began clearing off the table. When you lived alone the table was rarely used for eating, and she realized her door was still locked, she unbolted it, and starting looking for her nice dishes.

 

[Kuldaboli]

Byron

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline as she said it would be fine and then hung up. He stood stock still for a second. Was that a 'yes'? In a blur of motion he checked his watch. 20 minutes! He had 20 minutes! He scrambled for the kitchen, dropping his cordless on the sofa as he past.

He ducked for his freezer and got out two bakery style baguette garlic breads and popped them in the oven. Pasta on the burner, he ran for the bathroom. After a quick shower, a shave later, and a bit of grooming, he ran back into the kitchen in only a towel. He got everything else ready in no time flat and whipped up the sauce with practiced ease.

He ran for the bedroom and threw open his closet. "What to wear, what to wear." he chanted to himself. "Casual! But not too casual. Still, not over the top." Black boxer/briefs were the first item of clothing he chose. "Good! Underwear, check." Black socks came next. His hands hovered before his closet as if it was a mystical scrying device that would foretell his future. He couldn't decide! Closing his eyes with a sigh, he dove for the first pants his hands found and the first T-shirt.

Putting them on without actually seeing what they were, he whirled around to take a look in the mirror. He looked like a vampire. That was the only thing that came to mind. Brand new, black, jeans, with the shopping tag still attached, and a thin, black, formfitting, turtleneck that showed every cut in his upper torso. (Haley had strictly forbidden him to wear this turtleneck in public, because some women would nearly dislocate their necks staring after him when he would walk by. Who knew she was the jealous type.) "Muh-Hah-Hah! I am Count Byronian Harkevitsh! I am here to suck your pasta sauce!" He joked in a very lame, WAY over the top rendition of Bella Lugosie.

Going with the clothes and making sure to cut the still attached shopping tag from his pants, he put on his black shoes and dashed back into the kitchen and put the finishing touches to the meal he was preparing. He put a lid on the pot containing the pasta meal and dove for the bread in the oven. They looked good. Perfect! His smile almost split his head in two. Putting them on a large wooden cutting board, he draped a brand new dishtowel over them to try and keep them warm. The pot containing the pasta meal fit perfectly on the board as well.

He was about to pick up the makeshift tray, when a thought occurred to him. He searched his wine rack, tracing his finger in front of him to steady his searching. Finally finding what he was looking for, a nice Italian Merlot, he straightened up. Then the phone rang.

He froze. The shrill ringing of the phone cut through his happy mood. It was Haley. He knew it. Standing there holding the bottle with both hands, he closed his eyes to steady himself as the phone rang again, and again. No! He wasn’t doing this! Haley had made her bed, and now she would have to lie in it. He wasn’t responsible for her anymore.

He put the bottle of wine on the cutting board, picked up the makeshift tray and headed for the door. As he opened it, he heard his machine pick up the call. He closed the door behind him and headed for Mel’s apartment, where he lightly rapped on the door. He never heard Haley’s annoyed voice on his machine as she delivered her message, her voice growing angrier by the second.

“Byron! Byron, I know you’re there! Pick up the phone Byron! Who were you talking to just now?! *a slight pause* Damnit, Byron, answer me!!! *another pause* It was that bitch from next door, wasn’t it?!?! The one with the Fake hair wasn’t it!!! WASN’T IT!!! Are you seeing her, Byron?! Are you?!?! Are you fucking her?!?! YOU’RE FUCKING HER, AREN’T YOU!!!!! GOD DAMNIT BYRON ANSWER ME!!!!!!!!

The message timed out and with a click the machine terminated the connection. Silence reigned in the apartment.

 

[intriguess]

Mel

She set her table for two and began her search for two glasses that matched, her good kitchen ware being neatly packed away for when she got a real place. She had lived in the appartment far too long probably, but it was nice not to have to deal with maintaining a house, at same time it was kind of painful to keep paying money and not having it go towards anything.

Sometimes she feared that if she did buy a house she would suddenly become a cat lady. It also was a good excuse not to have company or family over as her place was so small. Then again her neighbors were quite friendly even if they tended to lead busy lives.

Such as Byron always off doing something or in seclusion for writing, she couldn't recall him doing much writing since he'd hooked up with the blonde, Mel couldn't remember the blonde's name.. but that didn't matter now.

It was just a meal after all, food, conversation, friendship perhaps.

 

[Kuldaboli]

Byron

He stood outside her door and fidgeted nervously. This was just dinner, right? Just two friends, neighbours, sharing a meal together because both of them skipped dinner. That's all it was. Right?

He was about to knock when the door accross the hall opened.
"Yeah, I'm on my way, God! Keep your pants on!" The elegantly dressed woman who stepped out said into her mobile phone, whith quite a bit of anoiance in her voice, before hanging up. Closing the door behind her, she looked up and froze.

She looked at him. Then at his makeshift tray. His hand, held in a 'ready to knock' pose. And finally at the way he was dressed. Her eyes then darted from his eyes to the door to his eyes again.

He could see something click inside her head. She smiled at him and walked up to him, looking at the makeshift tray ballanced on his arm. She closed her eyes, leaned forward just a fraction, held her hair back slightly and smelled the aromas from the meal.

"Mmmmm." She cooed. Opening her eyes she looked at him with a big smile. Her eyes locked on Mel's door for a moment before locking back on him. She seemed to be measuring him up through his turtle-neck.

Cocking an eyebrow slightly she opened her mouth to speak. Her voice was soft, sensual and sexy. It also held a tinge of jelousy. "Lucky girl." Then she turned and walked away.

Shaking himself slightly and putting the insident out of his head, he steadied himself and knocked lightly on Mel's door.

 

[intriguess]

Mel

The knock jolted her out of her reverie, he was here, and as she got closer to the door she could smell the food. She relaxed, she knew enough about Byron to know he wasn't psycho type, he just seemed to date them. She opened the door smiled, wished she'd bothered with make up as she tried to avoid staring at how his shirt clung to his torso.

"Come on in," she licked her lips. The food looked fabulous, and a small voice reminded her that being able to cook was on her list of qualities she looked for in a man. Not that she was actively looking, then again it was when you weren't looking that the right thing turned up. "That smells fabulous, I already set the table. Just set the food down, kick off your shoes and relax." She took the bottle of wine and asked, "Does this need to chill or breath?" For some reason her nervousness had vanished, for which she was thankful.

 

[Kuldaboli]

Byron

As the door swung open he seemed to forget how to breathe. She was beautiful! How the hell could he have missed that?! They’d been living next door to each other for a while now.

The sight of her licking her lips made his mind go completely numb. She’d said something prior to it though, hadn’t she? He was sure he’d seen her lips moving. Her very full gorgeous lips. “No! Bad Byron!!” he admonished himself mentally. He hoped he hadn’t been too obvious.

Finally pulling himself together, he stepped into her apartment, thanking her for the invite. Looking around he noticed that it was a mirror image of his own, though much nicer. Warmer.

“Oh, Ok. Thanks. Oh, The wine, Maybe we should let it breathe a bit.” He put the food down on the table and kicked off his shoes, putting them near the door. Going back to the table he waited for her to come back before making a little show of unveiling the delicacies he’d brought over. “Eh voila!!! Pasta Carbonara! Specialit’e of zhe house!”

He pulled out a chair for her still using his exagerated French gentleman manarisms. “Madamoselle!”

 

[intriguess]

Mel

"Merci beaucoup," she whispered glad for once that she had taken French in high school. She was glad she had brought out serving spoons and a bread knife, it looked fantastic, she couldn't recall the last time she'd eaten food that wasn't preprocessed or prepackaged. "This is a treat, I rarely cook for myself." He did look a bit tired and she wondered when he had last gotten a good nights sleep. This lead to a thought of cuddling up next to him in bed...purely for sleep, but she couldn't help but think of what else could happen with him in a bed.

 

[Kuldaboli]

Byron

As she sat down, her hair mesmerized him. Long, thick, luscious reddish-brown curls. He caught scent of her shampoo. It led to thoughts of running his fingers through it, feeling it’s silky smooth texture beneath his fingertips. “Wonder if she likes to have her lover pull on it as they-“ He shook his head to erase the thought, glad she was facing away from him. “No!!! Stop it Byron!!!” He mentally chastised himself. “I can’t help it!” his mind whined. “Look at her! She’s unbelievably gorgeous! Not to mention intelligent, incredibly sweet and kind! She’s been living here all this time and you’ve never even noticed her! Living here - Alone, by the way! What the hell is your problem, Byron!!!”

Seeing she was seated, he squashed the whining part of his mind, much to its protest, and started pouring the wine.

Her words brought him out of his mental debate. He smiled, still focused on the slow stream of wine as it flowed from the bottle into the glass “I like to cook. It gives me something to focus on. Still, I haven’t done it much…” His voice trailed off slightly and he felt a tightening in his chest. He’d always cooked for Haley, in fact she had almost insisted on it. He noticed his hand, holding the bottle and pouring the wine, starting to tremble a bit. “Lately.” He added in a voice almost a whisper. He forced his hand to steady, his eyes narrowing a fraction in concentration. He prayed to any deity who was willing to listen that she hadn’t noticed that. He was tired. So very tired. He hoped it didn’t show.

Forcing all thoughts of his treacherous girlfriend, (“Slutty bitch of an EX-girlfriend!!! Please, call the little tramp by her true title!!!” his sub-conscious corrected him) out of his mind, he put on a smile, and took his own seat. This was not the time nor place. Haley had nothing to do with tonight and he was not about to let thoughts of her ruin things. Tonight was about Mel. Sweet Mel, who had reached out to him and, unbeknownst to her, had probably saved his very soul from being swallowed up by misrey and dispare. And he would repay her kindness in any way he could. “Please,” He said, indicating the food with a smile.

Desperate to start a conversation, he jumped on the first thing that entered his head. “So, what’s going on in your life?” He cringed internally. That was bad! He’d come up with a few lame conversation starters before, but that one had to take the cake. It had to be so obvious he was covering something up. He needed something to fix it. He opted for humor.

He leaned forward with a grin on his face. “Any new gossip?” His voice held a tone of mock conspiracy and he waggled his eyebrows playfully.

 

[intriguess]

Mel

He seemed distracted as he poured the wine, and she attributed it to him being tired. She once again wondered how long it had been since he slept and the image of him curled up next to her in bed his head resting against her breasts filled her mind. It was erotic, yet not sexual, cozy...comfortable. Then she focused on the question, "I got an invite to my ten year reunion and it's bound to be interesting. I missed my last but gossip was all about how Tim brought his male lover to the event." She chuckled softly and took a sip of the wine rolling it over my tongue before swallowing.