Lips Made of Yarn

"Arrogant punk," I mumbled to myself as I entered my apartment. The coldness of the night creeped under my thick sweater and I shivered.

I dropped my messenger bag on the floor and threw my keys on the couch on my way to the kitchen. My brain was on fire with empty accusations toward Brendon. How dare he even think that I would want to get in his pants.

I gritted my teeth in frustration. The guy just enjoys watching me squirm, I'm sure.
The fridge didn’t hold anything of interest to my empty stomach, so I grabbed a half empty bag of chips as dinner.

As I was crunching down on the sour cream and onion flavored chips, my phone rang nosily.

I sighed and picked it up.
"Hello?" My voice emitted my obvious anger, coming out much like a snarl.
"Mel? Is everything okay?"
I let my head fall onto the countertop and balanced the phone to my ear. My sister Ashley's voice was music to my ears. I haven't talked to her in more than a month, which is unusual for us seeing how close we are.

"Yeah, everything’s fine. What about you, how have you been?"
"Don't think I can't tell when you’re upset," Ashley responded. "What's going on, sweetie?"

I sighed and caved to my sisters calming voice. "Just a stupid guy at work. He's just so arrogant. He's convinced himself that I want to get in his pants."
"Well, do you want to get in his pants?"
"No!" I cried, "I was just trying to be friends with the guy. Just because I want to talk to him doesn’t mean I want to jump his bones."

"Okay, okay, I get it. There will be no getting into pants as far as you’re concerned." Ashley laughed.

We talked for a bit more, Ashley telling me about her job and how her husband is. I didn’t say much, because honestly there wasn’t much to say. I didn’t notice just how unbelievably dull my life was. The only thing worth talking about was Brendon, but Ashley would take it as I like him. When really I only want to complain about how arrogant he was being.

So I kept my mouth shut and listened, laughing when she told a humorous story. Finally, I was the one to end the call as the clock read 2:04. I took a quick shower and sprayed some kind of leave-in conditioner in my hair that I had picked up recently.

I fell asleep quickly, knowing that being tired for work was inevitable now, and also wondering what time Brendon had gotten home. I hope it wasn’t too late.

-x-

I seemed to be the first one to reach Starbucks the next morning. I sighed when I realized Brendon had my keys.
I sat down against the glass door, intent on waiting for either Kranger or Brendon to arrive and let me in. But as soon as my back hit the door, it swung open and I fell backwards onto my back.

I rubbed the back of my head and groaned, feeling a small bump already forming. Getting to my feet clumsily, I scanned the room warily. There better be a goddamn good reason as to why Brendon didn’t lock the door last night. Anyone could have just waltzed in and stole everything in the cash register.

A small noise from the back room made me freeze. I cursed under my breath, bringing my messenger bag closer to my chest. Another noise followed and I seriously contemplated running for my life. If the robbers were still here, I really don’t want to get caught in the middle of it. But a part of me knew I couldn’t just run away and leave them to do whatever they pleased.

Grabbing a metal chair and shrugging off my bag and jacket, I walked slowly to the back door, chair poised in front of my body.
I pressed my ear to the door and tried to listen as intently as my frightened brain would allow.

A sigh, then a bang, as if someone had tripped over something. I fidgeted around, forcing my legs to stay put and not run away. It was kind of strange how the robbers were in the back supply room, but maybe there’s something of value in there that I missed.

It was now or never. I need to just get this over with. I turned the doorknob stealthily, holding onto as chair leg with one hand.

"Ah!" I let out a war cry as I pushed against the door, jumping inside and swinging the chair madly. My eyes had closed in fear and my arms continued to swing. I didn’t hear a sound, but then my chair collided with something forcibly.

The chair vibrated in my hand from the heavy impact and I nearly cried with relief. I peeked through my lids, seeing nothing at first, then looking to the ground and my heart stopped. At my feet was a man maybe a year younger than me, with a familiar head of brown hair and a face I was intent on making smile.