“What do you think I just did?” He asked me as if I were stupid.
“You entered my house without my permission. That’s what you did. You know I can call the cops on you?” I snapped. Definitely creepy.
He didn’t respond, but only glared at me. I don’t know why he was the one glaring, I was just exasperated. I should be angrier.
“I told you, I need something from you. And no one else can know about it.”
“So you break into my house?! It doesn’t give you an excuse to just waltz on into anyone’s house, just because you need something. What do you need anyways?” I was really getting fed up. He wouldn’t give me direct answers.
He looked around, ignoring me yet again. I made a frustrated noise and grabbed his arm and tried dragging him back out the door. Notice I say ‘I tried’. I tried, but it didn’t work. He seemed almost rooted to the spot, like a lamppost. A very, very stubborn lamppost. He just looked at me, amused. I tried pushing him from his back. Didn’t work.
“Get-out-of-my-house!” I said, still trying to push him. He turned around to look at me, which I stared up at him irritably.
He quirked a smile and said, “You’re cute.”
I stood for a second, somewhat stunned.
“I am not cute! NOW GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” I was practically yelling. I wonder how loud I had to be for the neighbors to notice.
He started walking towards the door, then made a right into the living room. I moaned. This wasn’t only just frustrating; it was frightening. Annoyance was my common mask.