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He just stood there

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He just stood there. Staring.

I was frantically running around trying to last minute clean my disaster of an apartment as Christian fucking Ivanov watched on with some ridiculous intensity.

Why was he here? I internally whined. This wasn't how my few off days were supposed to go.

"Your place is nice." Christian commented. It was the first words he had said since our argument on why he was here.

I glanced around and grimaced.

I just had so much... stuff.

Dozens of random gadget I'd collected over the years, and books upon books of tech nerdy stuff lined my shelves.

"Oh for fucks sakes, stop cleaning and get over here. I don't have all day." He finally snapped as I attempted to usher most of my comic book collection into my room. I guess it didn't really matter anyways, right? He already saw the state it was in earlier.

I made my way over to where he was currently sitting- on my futon. He had both laptops set up already and a few of the sales goals sheets rested on my coffee table.

My hands reached up in a poor attempt to at least straighten out my hair.

I just felt so caught off guard.

Christian was the biggest contrast compared to myself right now. His suit was as sharp as every other part of him. It was the attention to detail that really threw me when it came to this guy- all the way down to his cuff links.

He pulled his blazer off and loosened his tie, as well as the top button of his collar. Seeing him slowly relax in my apartment was weird.

Seeing him sit on my futon was also weird.

Seeing him here in my fucking apartment was just unexplainable. Someone like him definitely did not belong within a 10 mile radius of this side of town.

"Have you worked on anything these past couple days?" Christian asked. I slowly shook my head no.

He didn't look to pleased about that.

"In my defense, my doctor told me to take it easy. The deep cut will take some time to heal, and I'm still experiencing inflammation from my allergic reaction."

Christian gave me a once over and, judging by my physical state, accepted my excuse. I was still sort of limping around, and I had to keep this ointment on my skin all day that made me look like a slimed up snail.

It was just fucking fantastic. Whatever nonexistent sex life I had before was now even more nonexistent.

Can't think of anyone who would want to get with Slimer from the Ghostbusters, so...

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