A rapid knocking at my door pulls me out of focus. I glance to the window and find the sky is pitch black, making me sigh. It was Sunday night, and I had been writing in a non-stop fugue state since I got home yesterday after the one-bed trope. My newfound consciousness comes with sharp hunger pangs and a very stiff back. Stretching, I groan loudly, and rest my head weightily on my desk.

The knocking comes again, this time more urgent. So, I closed my laptop and walked to the door, looking through the peep hole to find Desi standing outside my door. The chain was barely off before she was barging in and rushing to my kitchen like a bank robber headed for the vault.

"I promise. I will have chapters and the full report of what happened on your desk first thing tomorrow morning." I grumble, shutting the door. "Just let me have the rest of this night in peace. I beg you!"

"Can you stop talking to yourself for moment!" Desi interrupts, clawing at a bottle of wine she pulled from her bag and was now trying to open.

In the brief time I had been pleading with her she had set out multiple tubs of ice cream, corn chips, a chocolate bar from last Christmas that I'm quite sure was lost in my freezer, and potato salad. She also was pulling out another bottle of wine from her purse and set out the coffee grounds.

"I am about three seconds away from murdering a human being. And if I don't satiate the beast inside, you are the one helping me bury his body." She growls, and resorts to using her teeth like an animal to pull the cork out the rest of the way. I tried to be surprised at this, but I couldn't. I'd seen it many times before.

"Desi, dearest," I started, swaying toward her with a tired smile. "Need I remind you; it is almost eleven p.m. on a Sunday. We have work tomorrow. Also, homicide is not an acceptable, nor legal, way to express your frustration."

She is making coffee now, my kitchen a tornado of grounds and water droplets. "No, you're right. Except this is not frustration." She clicks the machine on before walking back into my pantry and grabbing an ancient bottle of Fireball.

Oh boy.

"Frustration is someone turning in chapters late," She whirls and looks at me furiously, "By the way, where are my chapters?"

I threw my hands up, too exhausted to reiterate what I said. It doesn't matter anyway. She turns back around and is kicking off her shoes, taking the bottle of wine in one hand and the chips in the other as she marches to the couch.

"Frustration is not being able to clasp your bracelet by yourself or missing the bus. Frustration is not sleeping with someone for a while, or seeing someone that makes you realize you want to. Frustration is having someone take the last muffin after waiting in line at the coffee shop for twenty minutes!"

Desi flops onto the couch but is peering at me over the back of it, "This is rage. Leah. Pure, unbridled, rage."

"Uh huh." Seeing that I wasn't getting an early nights rest tonight, I poured myself a cup of coffee, and walked over to her.

Curling up on the couch I pop a chip into my mouth, "And what did he do this time to earn such rage?"

She stops and has the audacity to look surprised. "I didn't say who I was mad at."

I pointed to the bottle in her hand, "That's red wine."

"So?"

I eat another chip, "So, you only drink red wine when you're mad at two people... Yourself and Henry." Taking a sip of my coffee to wash it down, I finish with, "You said the word "his" just now. So, it's not you. Must be Henry."

Desi stares at me, mouth slightly agape. Her finger uncurls around the neck of the bottle to point at me as she starts to say something. However, she hums to herself and takes a drink instead.

Then she stares at me again with narrowed eyes. "Do I really only drink red wine in those two instances?"

I nodded, "For a moment I thought you were mad at the company or an ex-boyfriend."

"Why?" She is watching me carefully.

I take another drink of coffee before pointing to the Fireball left stranded on the counter, "That's usually your choice in those situations."

Desi stares out at the room, her face scrunching in existential concern, "Wow...Do you think I have a drinking problem?"

I shake my head, "I don't think so...I just happened to notice the pattern."

This relaxes her, and in doing so, makes her forget how angry she was. "Huh, interesting."

"So, what did Henry do?"

She looks over at me and takes a handful of chips, pushing them all into her mouth. Curling up her face in distaste she speaks through the crunching. "I can barely even talk about it."

I move off the couch, grab a few other snacks, and come back. I set down a glass in front of her, which she laughs at but pours a drink into it anyway.

"I have all night."

She fiddles with her glass, and I grow apprehensive. Usually, she can't wait to dish out insults and criticisms of Henry's behavior. Whatever he did must be bad if she has to think about it... and unconceivable if she is hesitating to tell me. Inching closer I stared at her. Desi's cheeks are flushed, and she avoids looking me in the eyes.

Eventually she sighs and rolls her eyes. "He...kissed me."

My jaw drops and I feel the world screech to a halt. "He.did.what?"

Desi peeks at my reaction from the corner of her eyes before she slams her drink. Anger curls up in her features as she pours another glass and slams that too.

"He's despicable. Horrible. Vomit inducing. I want to retch just thinking about it. I..." Her monologue is cut off by a profound sigh and she falls back on the couch covering her face, "Oh my god--- Why can't I stop thinking about it?"

I'm still astounded. I can't even register the things coming out of her mouth. Henry? Kissing Desi? Henry? Mr. "Think 5,000 before you act." Mr. "Never leave the house with a hair out of place." Henry Lockwood! Acted impulsively????

GO HENRY! Part of me feels like screaming. The other part of me is very quietly and worriedly saying oh no.

Desi groans and looks at me desperately, then I can see her getting worked up again. Her nostrils flare and she is looking at me with a fiery expression, "Who does that prick think he is? Huh?"

She stands up, abandoning the glass for the bottle again. Desi starts pacing, working through her thoughts. "I'm sitting at work, minding my business, working hard on edits to meet the deadline, right? And he just walks in the room, wearing that stupid sweater that just--"

Desi pauses looking at me like she's about to go to war. "I'm going to annihilate whoever made that sweater."

"It's literally a sweater from Walmart, Desi." I note, "He got it from the clearance rack."

"Well, it's the devil, okay!" She shouts, pacing again. "I'm working late, and he just shows up wearing the devil and jeans. He's in FADED JEANS, Leah! As in, not the same stupid pair of boring black slacks he considers decent attire. I didn't even know he owned jeans. Are you comprehending what I'm saying? This was personal. A strategic attack. "

"Wow. Jeans." I reply, widening my eyes in fake surprise while spraying canned cheese on a cracker. "Diabolical."

She doesn't notice my tone. Desi is so far gone, that I could do a headstand on a turkey completely naked while singing "God Save the Queen" and she would carry on just as she is now.

"And, if that wasn't enough, his hair isn't covered in that disgusting pomade for once. It's all long and tucked away--- and he has the nerve to just stop in and help me with what I'm doing unprovoked? So, I asked him: What are you doing? Don't you have a fortune five-hundred company to worship? and He... He..."

Now I am riveted, sitting on the edge of my seat. Crunching quickly on my cracker, I lay In wait for her response.

I want to call Henry and fangirl with him. I want to buy him a cake, send balloons, and kiss his cheek. He did it! He did it! He finally confessed his feelings!

Desi is breathless, her eyes wild, "You know what really pisses me off?"

I sat back, realizing that she was still processing. I am never getting to the juicy bit of the story... at least not that easily. Shaking my head, I ask, "What?"

"It's not even the sweater. It's the fact that, after everything he has put me through. The meetings, the knock-down-drag-out fights, the horrible top forty radio station he purposely puts on when I get into his car. The stupid pantsuit he bought me for Christmas--"

"The one you burned in your backyard?" I interject, trying not to laugh. I had no idea Henry had bought that for her. It was supposed to be a Secret Santa. Then again, Desi knew everything.

She nods, eyes wide, "Yes! That one. All these things, years, spent intentionally torturing me and what does he do tonight? He gives me this look. I mean. The. Look. Leah. Before I know it, he's pulling me out of the chair and kissing me like---"

She stops, face burning. "I can't even say it out loud. But it wasn't exactly a kiss that Jesus would stop and watch if you know what I mean."

I can't hold it anymore, I squeal, "Hell yeah!"

"No!" Desi yells back, "NO! HELL. NO."

"Why?" I whine, letting my head fall back. "So, you kissed him. Desi you're crazy about each other, just admit it! This is a good thing."

"Leah, no it's not. I just realized the wine isn't for him...It's for me." She comes and sits next to me, holding my face in her hands as she says with the utmost gravity, "I ran."

"YOU WHAT?!"

——

Hello lovelies!!

So I am camping which means that this chapter it brought you by dust, dirt, and groggy afternoon naps haha!!

So, GO HENRY! At least that's what I'm saying here!  I was clapping hysterically over this information!

Hopefully Desi and Henry can still sort things out, what do you think? 😬.

Have a great day and I'll see you soon(:

With love,

E.G.