Playing With Fire | 18+

6|I Fucking Hate You

vote | comment | follow

Ameena knew something was off as soon as she turned the door knob and it clicked without resistance.

With an ominous creak, it slowly swung open just as she stood, squinting into the faded light.

At first she thought it was Ron, it wasn't the first time he'd stop at her home unannounced and be cooking up a storm that would definitely bring on a mind blowing foodgasm that he alone could draw out of her.

But then the thought was shot down as soon as she remembered that Ron had previously called telling her he would not be in town for two days.

A chill crept up her spine at the next thought. A burglar.

She stepped over the threshold, with finesse and quietly deposited her bag onto the carpeted floor before swinging the door shut behind her.

Her heels went next, her toes melting into the soft carpet, it was much easier to fight without heels. She focused on stealthily tip toeing but stopped as soon as she heard the all too familiar voice of Crazy eyes.

She stopped around the corner and gaped, she neither remembered leaving her laptop on nor her Netflix.

The familiar voices continued to talk, then she could hear Piper's voice. Slowly, her hands balling into ready fists at her side, she tiptoed to the source of the loud sounds echoing from her living room.

Ameena would never have expected what she came up on the moments she took a single peek into her living room. She blinked numerously fighting the urge to rub them. There, on her couch sat the last human being that she would ever want to see in her life.

As if he was waiting on her, Alex stared right back with one of his famous smirks. Fully clad in the outfit she remembered seeing him in only earlier and not even looking a smidge less desirable.

A chill went up her spine as he stared up at her from the position he was sitting in. Sitting amidst the fluff of her cushions, hand stretched over the head of the couch, ankle resting atop the other knee. Beside her laptop was an empty bucket of Ron's vanilla ice cream.

Ameena was lost for words and that was because her throat was flat and her voice box refused to vibrate long enough to produce a coherent sound.

She blinked, "How...?"

She watched as he reached forward and slowly closed the blaring laptop on the coffee stand before him, his dark green eyes intentionally never straying from hers.

She debated on taking a step back as they plunged into a silence that she could only define as cursed.

His eyes never left hers and only said one thing. She was in trouble. Big time.

Her eyes strayed away from his and into the kitchen that was only separated by a door less wall, there in the up most corner was the knife stand. She regretted not leaving it at the edge of the counter.

But how would she know she would have a faceoff with the devil himself only later?

Fuck you one step behind cell.

Her eyes went back to his and he had a knowing grin.

He was challenging her, his eyes basically swimming in amusement. Daring her to lunge for the knives.

Ameena was never one to play damsel. It was as if everything happened in slow motion. She took off to the kitchen just as he sprung up from the couch like a tiger closing in on its prey.

It was times like these Ameena hated the simplicity of her flat's design because it had more space and twists, she would've probably grabbed the knife.