Ink storm

Standing, my arms full, keys in hand at my door, i heard the phone ring from somewhere deep inside my locked apartment. Cursing loudly i dropped my arm full of bags and flew inside.
“Ello?” biting my lip I began to walk back to gather my things, spread nicely over the entrance. “Kate! I’ve missed you so darling.” Annabelle’s voice called through the speaker.
“Yeah, no, I missed you too.” I grinned as I moved the bags inside with my feet, closing the door as I did.
“How have you been Kate?” she gasped.
“Absolutely, wonderfully fabulous.” Balancing the phone between my shoulder and neck, I proceeded to move the bags onto the bench.
A low chuckle flowed through the phone. “And you’ve been this wonderful for how long?”
I stopped, the milk in one hand, eggs in the other. “A fair while.”
There was a silence in the other end of the phone, “so that’s twice in a week?” she sounded confused.
Giggling like a little school girl i admitted, “Nah, just once.”
There was a short gasp from Annabelle’s parted lips, which could have been any colour from violet to blood red. “... and his name is?” she demanded.
I moved to pour the coffee into a glass jar, “Storm.”

“What was on the menu for breakfast?” Annabelle changed the topic, apparently satisfied.
“Chocolate croissants and coffee.” Butter followed the eggs and milk into the fridge.
“Contemplation only opened half an hour ago and you just brought coffee.”
I paused, “So?” she just laughed.
“How long has this Storm been working at Contemplation then?”
I chuckled. Annabelle hadn’t dropped the subject of Storm at all. “Wouldn’t have a clue. Don’t normally go during the lunch rush.”
“No, but I do.” Annabelle smirked. I could tell she was smirking from the tone her voice had taken. “Describe him.” came her demand.
“He has the most masculinely beautiful hands... guitar player. Ink black hair, miss matched eyes-“
“Tattoos covered by the rolled up sleeves of his work shirt, leather tied around his throat and an eyebrow piercing which is removed when he works.” Annabelle finished for me.
“That’s him.” No sooner had the words left my lips, there was again an audible gasp.
“How? Did you, oh I don’t know, tie him up and drag him home with you?”
“No! Annabelle, how could you. I- fuck.” I swore as I dropped the bread in outrage.
“Honey, relax. It’s just... every single, and most not-so-single girl has tried to get with him... hasn’t worked up till now.”
“oh, and that makes me feel so much more confident.” Forgetting she couldn’t see me, I rolled my eyes as I popped myself up onto the bench, biting into a peach, “I found out he’s the one who wrote all those amazing poems on the walls of Contemplation.”
“Really?” she sounded interested but unwilling to find out more.
“Yep.” I flung open the door to my balcony and rested myself on the frame.
“You really can’t sit still can you?” she was ginning, I knew it.
“What colour lippie babe?” I teased her, walking back inside.
There was a silence on the other end of the line. “Lime green.” She lied.