Just Steve

T H I R T Y - E I G H T

Turn. Aim. Shoot. 

You stashed your sniper, exchanging it for a short range pistol. Deciding it would be safer to find shelter then to stay out in the open, you began to run back to the house, keeping your pistol out and ready to fire at any assailants that might try to surprise you along the way. Then the door bell rang.

Finally.

You shot up from the couch, pausing the game, and setting down the controller. The harsh pang in your stomach eagerly pushing you towards the front door where your Kung Pao chicken would be waiting for you. You opened the door without looking, grabbing your purse from the stand next to the doorway. 

"Just one moment." You said, one-handedly fishing for some cash to tip the delivery man, smiling when you found a five dollar bill hiding at the bottom. Then you looked up.

"Oh-" Your smile faded in confusion and disappointment. "You're not my Chinese food."

"Uh no, sorry."

Peter was standing in the door way looking a little awkward. You stood there for a moment, staring at him as he stared back, fighting the urge to close the door and pretend like this had never happened. What the hell was he doing here? Last you checked it had been nearly thirty days since he had last spoken to you. Thirty days since he had stomped all over your friendship and forced you out of his life. He had said it himself. He was done with you, he was finished. So what the hell was he playing at trying to come back now? 

It was then that you remembered you no longer lived alone. Peter probably wasn't here to talk to you, he was here to see the other resident of this apartment. Maybe for something work related?

"Steve's not home right now but I can tell him you dropped by."

Your fingers were gripping tightly to the edge of the door, getting ready to close it, needing to close it. The wounds were still too fresh, to unhealed for you to risk keeping this door open any longer.   

"I'm not here for Steve." Peter replied, peering past your shoulder to look down the hallway of your apartment. "Can I come in?"

You moved away from the entry way giving him space to walk through, not because you really wanted to. Frankly you just wanted him gone, but you figured somebody had to be the adult in this situation. He moved past you starting to walk down the hallway towards the living room. You shut the door behind him, taking a steadying and resigned breath and then following him down the hall. 

Peter was looking around the apartment, taking everything in. He looked almost the same as he had the last time you had seen him. He had the same mess of curls, the same lopsided grin. The only difference was his eyes. The last you had seen them they were full of pure contempt, nothing but hostility towards you and anything having to do with you. Now the cold and frozen chocolate flecks had melted into a warmer and more inviting gaze, but you were hesitant to believe that was genuine. You waited quietly for him to say something. 

"The place looks nice." He noted, then smiling at the paused screen on the television. "Level fifteen? I didn't think you'd made it that far yet, that must have taken you forever."

Apparently being the adult of the group was harder than you had thought it would be, for more reasons than one. It didn't seem fair for him to show up out of the blue like this. It felt even less fair for him to stand there and smile while he talked about video games, the activity that had practically solidified your supposed friendship, when that very friendship no longer existed. You wished you had known that the foundation you built with him had been made of quicksand. This was all too hot and cold and the mixed signals did nothing but raise your levels of annoyance tenfold. You picked up the controller, pressing the home button to shut off the console, and then did the same with the television.