I'd been getting the packages for weeks now. Months, even. All of them were exactly the same in most respects. They were all covered in a clear polythene bag that had been sealed with heat on two sides, and contained a brown cardboard box that fitted in the palm of my hand, thin enough to be posted through the letterbox. On one side, a piece of paper with my name and address printed separated the cardboard from the plastic bag. It was set out much like any other invoice you've ever seen for a normal delivery, just kinda crumpled and folded at the edges where it was a little too big to fit over the box.

Except that I hadn't ordered anything since I'd moved here.

As I heard the scrape of another one of those packages scrape across the floor when I pushed the front door to the house open, I let out a chilly sigh. I bent to pick it up, kicking the door shut behind me with the flat of my foot. I turned it over absently, half heartedly looking for any sign of it being different from the others I'd received. Apart from maybe the shade of the cardboard used to make the box, nothing was different that I could see, and I tossed it on the growing pile under the small table the phone sat on in the hallway.

Pushing thoughts of the packages aside, I listened to the booming bass shaking the floor beneath my feet, and felt a smile make the corners of my lips tilt upwards. I padded downstairs into the basement, marvelling for what must have been the millionth time at how tidy the house is. My roomie, Leah, was a total neat freak, and I was most certainly not. It should've probably been some kind of disaster house share, but she actually seemed to revel in the challenge my slobbish habits presented her.

On top of that, she was also a health freak. She'd instantly claimed dibs on the basement and promptly turned it into a personal gym. I sat halfway down the staircase, just where I could see her, but she wouldn't notice me over the music and her concentration on her workout. My smile widened as I watched for a few minutes. Man, that probably makes me sound like a freak, but if you could see what I was seeing...

Oh yeah, I totally had the hots for her. I mean, Leah was the kinda girl that always turned heads, but never believed she deserved the attention. Rather than that being an annoying, attention  seeking trait, it was a genuine doubt in herself and I won't deny I took pleasure in the fact it meant she didn't use her looks to get what she wanted. Manipulative girls can be such a turn off.

I waited until she had her back turned to the stereo before I sneaked further down the stairs and paused the track. She spun around, a look of surprise on her face. And then she saw me, a laugh bubbling out from between those lush lips.

"Should've known it was you," she smiled, relaxing again. I flashed her a small smirk. "How long were you watching me this time, you little perv?"

"Me? A perv?" I tutted, sauntering over to her. I put my hands on her hips and felt my smirk grow a little. "Never."

She wrapped her fingers around my wrists, pulling them away from her with a roll of her eyes. "Of course not." I watched as she turned back to her work out, doing my best to keep my eyes from focusing on her ass. Mostly. "I swear all men ever think about is sex," she muttered, just loud enough for me to hear.

"It's not all we think about. And it's certainly not all I think about," I protested, amused at how many times we had had this argument.

"Oh yeah? What else do you think about, then? And don't say football."

"Sports," I grinned as she looked back at me, giving me the ‘not-impressed' face. I pouted, "What's wrong with that? I didn't say football."

"No, but you might as well have done."

"That's just harsh. What if I meant baseball or something?"

"But you didn't. I know you too well, Jake. Now get your ass in the kitchen, bitch." I bow my head and salute her before heading back upstairs. In return for the cleaning, I do all the cooking. I never used to, but then Leah was ill one time, and I made her dinner for a change. After that, the kitchen may as well have been my bedroom, for all the time I spent out of it after work. Mind you, it keeps my skills pretty sharp. Which is useful if I'm looking for a new girlfriend. Chicks seem to love it if a guy can cook them a decent meal. At least, they do in my experience.


The End

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