My Wish Upon A Star

Chapter 9 - I Don't Have Hairy Nipples

“Huh?” I wasn’t ashamed of my boobs or anything—quite the contrary actually—but this was kind of out of the blue.

“How am I supposed to live on without knowing if half of your boobs are going to disappear when you take off your bra?” he explained and pushed me out of the way, getting inside. “Do you know how hard it is to be a man these days? We settle for a C plus and end up with an A minus.” At the end of his little rant he looked back at me, after having appraised my apartment.

I shook my head slightly. That boy was drunk off his ass. “And tell me why I’d be taking my bra off?”

“Come one.” He looked at me like this was obvious. Wasn’t to me. “You’ve pictured me naked too, it’s fine. And I’ll let you in on a little secret” He leaned in towards my ear. “I don’t have hairy nipples”

Well, I definitely wasn’t expecting that—not him not having hairy nipples, I mean, his telling me this. I faked a huffed of relief. “Thank god, I was so worried about that.”

Suddenly, Landon’s attention wasn’t on me anymore. He gazed around the room, turning on himself. “What have you done with my apartment?”

I sighed, annoyed. This was my night of jewellery fun and the drunk bastard was ruining it. “Okay, seriously, drunk Landon is getting annoying. You don’t live here anymore.”

“NONSENSE!” As he said that, he made big arm gestures and knocked a flower vase off the table by the front door. He looked at me sheepishly. “Oops.”

I glared. “Get out!” I tried to push him, but for some drunk guy, he was pretty steady on his feet.

“You can’t kick me out of my home,” he announced, almost offended.

Why did I have to explain this to him? “This. Is. NOT. Your. Home!”

He snorted. “Nonsense,” he called out, and walked passed me, heading for the living room. I tried to grab him, stop him, but he had other ideas in mind, and the second he saw the bottle of Scotch on the ground, he practically threw himself at it. “Oooh, look at that, more booze.” He took a swing and then spit it all out on my couch. “UGH! That’s disgusting.”

That’s it, bitch is dead. I slapped the back of his head and took my bottle back, cradling it. “I swear to god I will grab you by the balls and drag you out.”

He looked at me with a cheeky grin. “You want to grab my balls,” he said and giggled. I narrowed my eyes at him. The little bitch… “Maybe you should just kiss me first though, see how things go.”

“I’ll take the offer into consideration,” I answered absentmindedly, going over to my couch to appraise Landon’s spitting mess. Luckily, most of it seemed to have mostly it the plastic boxes on it, and not the fabric under, so it might not need to get the cushions to the cleaner.  

Landon was oblivious to my washing-couch crisis and was just ranting. “You should, I’m an excellent kisser. I kissed a guy once and he became gay… or maybe he was gay and I kissed him…” he scratched the top of his head, his face scrunching into concentration. “I can’t remember…”

            Before I could grace him with an answer, or maybe a kick in the shins, there was a knock at the door.

If it was some other drunk guy, I swear to god, I would use that damn baseball bat!

            I almost did when I opened the door and came face to top of head, with Miss Beauregard. She skipped the greeting and tried looking inside my apartment. “What’s going on? Do I need to call the police?” she asked, going from her tip toes to the plant of her feet.