The removal men were perspiring freely now, as they lugged countless boxes from the vans into the spacious house. A woman was on her mobile, curtly barking orders to the unfortunate man on the other end and a short, curvy girl with blonde hair was leaning against the large trunk of a leafy tree. She stood in the dappled sunlight, her arms folded tightly as she glared hatefully at the sight of her belongings being unceremoniously transported into the new house.
Dressed casually, in faded jeans and a T-shirt, the girl bit her lip as hard as she could without drawing blood. Her mother snapped the phone shut efficiently and caught a glimpse of her youngest daughter standing alone against the cool trunk of the tree, watching the unloading of the vans in silence.
"Something wrong, Melissa?" she inquired, her tone infinitely gentle than it had been moments before.
"No. Everything's just fine," she muttered sarcastically. "Simply perfect."
Ignoring the bitterness that infused these words, her mother reached for her phone, which had begun to vibrate once more. "Hello?" she said inquisitively, her voice as melodic as usual. "No, I told you that we couldn't possibly... you did what?!"
As her mother moved away across the verdant grass, listening intently, and fiddling with her beaten gold earring - a habit she had while speaking to someone on the phone - Melissa watched the men as they crunched their way up the gravel strewn path, who were alternating between swearing loudly and panting for breath.
As the metallic tang of blood stung her mouth, she reluctantly released her tender lip, pressing her thumb against the small cut and resisting the temptation to gag, contented herself with sighing loudly.
Her mother hung up the phone once more and turned back to her daughter. Melissa took her thumb away from her lip and gently probed it with her tongue doing her best to ignore the uncomfortable stinging sensation.
"Melissa, why don't you go inside and make a cup of tea for the removal men?" her mother suggested brightly, willing her to smile.
She didn't, but shrugged her shoulders without any protest, which was unusual.
As Melissa slowly meandered across the lawn, her mother suppressed a sigh. She was obviously more upset about the move than she had let onto being; usually optimistic and cheerful - if volatile - she was now moping around, causing even the removal men to ask her what was wrong with her grumpy daughter.
~*~
Sunlight streamed in through the gleaming window, reflecting against the polished wooden floor of the kitchen and emphasizing the clutter. A girl sat at a casually abandoned kitchen table, casually flicking through the glossy pages of a magazine, idly twirling a strand of dark hair around her finger apparently oblivious to the chaotic arrangement of boxes around her. She was wearing a bright shade of shimmering green eye shadow, which matched short green skirt she was wearing, calculated to show off her tanned, slender legs.
A loud clatter disturbed the peace of the empty kitchen and irritably she glanced up as a slightly overweight man sauntered in. "Any idea where this goes love?" he inquired, sweat glistening on his red forehead as he gestured to a large couch that had been dropped in the middle of the hall. Behind him, another mover dropped a small box and swore loudly as the ominous clink of china rang through the house.
Heaving a loud sigh, the girl gestured aimlessly towards another closed door leading into what she presumed would become the living room. "You may as well leave it in there," she said distractedly.
The man thankfully left and she resumed her slow flicking through the pages, ignoring the thumps and swearing emanating from the front of the house. Pausing on a page with a particularly nice dress, she tilted her head to one side, appraising it.
She was interrupted for the second time by her father entering the room impatiently rubbing his forehead as he did so; a sure sign he was under stress.
"Jen, could you put your magazine down for just one minute?" he snapped uncharacteristically. "What have the builders done with the couch, do you know?"
She glanced down at the fashion spread again and shrugged. "I haven't seen..." she began vaguely, before interrupting herself. "Oh. Wait, the sofa?"
Her father ground his teeth together. "What did they do to it?"
"I think they put it in that room over there. The front one."
"I told them it didn't go there! Jennifer, could you put your magazine down for just one minute and listen to me!"
Obediently, she allowed the magazine to flutter to the floor, stifling a sigh and raised one perfectly arched eyebrow at her father. "What do you suggest I do?"
"Go direct the removal men. They don't have a clue where anything goes, it appears..."
"Neither do I," she pointed out, but under her breath; it was best not to argue with him when he got into one of these moods. "I've never been here before."
"And pick up the magazine," he ordered before he left the room. "Don't just leave it on the floor."
Making a face, Jennifer retrieved the magazine and tossed it casually onto the scrubbed table, waiting for a suitable amount of time to elapse before settling herself back onto the chair and opening her magazine once more.
The kettle was one of the very few utensils that had been unpacked from the crates that had been scattered throughout the house. Tetchily, Melissa managed to unearth a few mugs from a crate mysteriously labelled silverware and set about making tea amidst loud clattering.
Turning the silver handle of the tap, she watched the clear water gush into the tap, spattering her T-shirt with drips that darkened the pale lilac fabric to a deep shade of purple. Thrusting the kettle under the stream of water, which glittered as the sun hit it, she filled it to the brim before flicking the button. Taking advantage of the time it would take for the water to boil, she opened another box and procured the sugar - all builders or removal men always seemed to take sugar in their tea - and teabags.
"There's no milk," she said aloud as the realization dawned upon her; our mother had thrown it out before they left as it was pointless to ferry cartons of milk to their new home. She intended to buy some.
"So?" Jennifer didn't look up from her magazines. "Who cares?"
"The removal men will."
"Screw them," she said dismissively, tossing her shining dark hair out of her eyes where it cascaded over her shoulders having been meticulously straightened that morning. "Who gives a damn about them anyway?"
"Charitable to the last aren't you, Jen?" Melissa almost smiled. "I think they will."
"Tell them that's tough."
Sticking her head out the door, she smiled slightly nervously at the closest one, who had attractively decided to take his T-shirt off. Averting her eyes from the less than appealing sight she caught his attention. "I'm making some tea, but we don't have any milk. Is it okay if it's black-?"
The man was already shaking his head, his face shining in the heat. "Sorry, sweetheart, I don't drink black tea."
Another man grunted something to him as he struggled to carry in a bookshelf and gratefully Melissa withdrew back into the safety of the kitchen.
"God."
"What?"
"It's chaotic out there... at least there are no half naked men in here," she drawled, to get a reaction from Jennifer.
"More is the pity," Jennifer mused, flipping over the page. "I could do with the excitement."
"Is moving house not exciting enough?" their mother enquired, entering the kitchen. "Jennifer, put your magazine down. Why don't you give a book a chance, just for a change?"
"Mum, we've no milk. And the removal guy said that he didn't drink black tea."
Her mother frowned. "There are no shops in walking distance. Why don't you ask one of our new neighbours if we could borrow some?" Her eyes lit up as she seized on a chance to force her daughter into a better mood.
"Why? Because I'd look like a moron," Melissa said crossly. "I'm not arriving on a strangers doorstep simply to beg milk off of them."
"No need for dramatics," her mother said mildly, suppressing a smile. "And darling, you wouldn't be begging."
"I don't care," she said determinedly. "I'd look weird. I get embarrassed easily, you know that. Get Jen to do it."
"I'm not doing anything," Jennifer said simply.
"It would be a nice way to introduce yourself. You might end up making a new friend. Or even get a boyfriend!"
Rest In Results. Clicky =>
Melissa felt her cheeks begin to heat up, as a rosy colour stained her cheeks. "Mum, please."
"Why not?" Her mother appeared determined to pursue the topic. "That would be lovely, wouldn't it? And so handy, if he lived just across the road from you!"
The colour in her cheeks deepened to a dusky pink. "Mum, stop."
She had never been one to confide in her mother, but lately, she had taken to determinedly attempting to draw her into various heart to heart discussions, which were all excruciatingly embarrassing.
Jennifer had managed to put her magazine down and was now watching Melissa, her full lips curving in amusement.
"And you could invite him over for me to see if he's suitable for you," her mother continued on cheerfully.
"Stop it! I'm going, okay? You're so embarrassing!"
She banged noisily out of the kitchen, narrowly avoiding a collision with another of the removal who had also seen fit to remove his T-shirt. Her cheeks brilliantly pink by this stage, Melissa skirted past him, muttering an apology, unable to catch his eye.
Outside, the golden sunshine was markedly different to the dim, cool confines of the house. Wishing she had thought to take sunglasses, she chose the large house opposite them and sauntered across the scorching black road.
She tiptoed up the path to the house, feeling uncomfortably out of place amongst the beautiful flowers that waved their pale scented petals at her as she passed. Once on the doorstep to the house, she idled for a moment before gently pressing the doorbell. No sound, however faint, could be heard to confirm that the bell was ringing and uneasily, she shifted her weight from one foot to another.
She pressed the button again, holding it down and straining to hear it's tinny ring. It appeared to be broken, she mused. Maybe she should go to-
Abruptly the door was wrenched open and she took a step back in surprise, almost falling off the step.
"Jesus, some patience might be nice. You only need to ring it once you know, I'm not deaf."
The boy was clearly irritated and she took another faltering step back, feeling her cheeks heat up once more; the boy was undeniably better looking than any one she had ever seen before and only half dressed, simply wearing boxers. It was enough to make anyone blush, although he didn't seem particularly bothered. He ran one hand through his sandy blond hair and narrowed his blue eyes at her with exasperation. Without taking his eyes off of her, he yawned and stretched.
"What do you want?" he demanded. "God, it's freezing out here."
"Actually, it's quite warm," she ventured. The unspoken addition was that if he put more clothes on, he'd be fine.
He shot her a look filled with dislike. "What do you want?" he repeated, his tone even more brusque than before.
He was undeniably better looking than any guy she had ever seen before, but he was also the undoubtedly the rudest.
Getting a hold of herself Melissa forced a smile. "I'm um, your new neighbour."
"Well, I um, don't particularly care," he mimicked cruelly.
Taken aback, she soldiered on. "I'm Melissa. Mel."
"What are you doing on my doorstep, Melissa Mel?"
"Look, is there someone else here?" she snapped, losing her admittedly frayed temper. "You obviously can't bear to talk to me, so maybe if you got your mother-?"
"Jesus, you sound like one of those salesmen that used to ask you that when you were about ten," he sighed. "Is your Mummy in? No, my mummy isn't here."
"Fine," she said through gritted teeth. "Can I borrow some milk?"
The longer you spoke to him, the more his stunning attractiveness was dulled.
"Fuck's sake," he declared simply, before swinging the door open and stepping back to allow her entrance.
The kitchen was light and airy with sunlight glinting off of the sparkling glasses and the polished counter. A vase of flowers brightened the centre of the table and two large glass doors led onto a stone patio laid with paving stones.
She waited with folded arms as he searched around in the fridge, cursing as the frigid air hit his bare chest before discovering the blue carton. "Here." Bad temperedly, he thrust the milk at her
"What is your problem?" Melissa challenged, her temper flaring as she glared back at him. "There's no need to be so rude!"
He was smirking unpleasantly at her. "Maybe I enjoy it."
"It's not that flipping difficult to simply smile, get the milk and then politely say goodbye. Why must you be so monumentally unpleasant?!"
He snorted. "Flipping? Monumentally unpleasant?" he repeated.
"Oh get over yourself," she hissed, turning to flounce from the room.
Unfortunately, in her haste to make a dramatic exit, she somehow managed to trip over her own feet, which rather ruined her theatrical departure. There was a split second where her stomach dropped and she struggled to regain her balance, the metallic taste of fear coating her mouth. Thankfully, she managed to stop herself from falling, but the milk wasn't as lucky. The carton, which still had beads of moisture clinging to it from the icy fridge slid from her grasp and fell to the ground where it exploded, soaking her feet and splashing an artistic array of droplets across her jeans. She came off worse, but some also sprayed across the floor.
"Oh my God," she gasped, torn between the urge to get out of the house as soon as possible and the need to apologise.
"Clap, clap," the boy drawled sarcastically, doing a bad job of hiding his amusement. His eyes glinted with disdain as he watched her survey herself with dismay. "You are such an idiot."
Her apologetic intentions faded immediately and she drew herself up to her full height, not that it made much difference. "I'd rather be a moron than a rude, self centred prick!" she snarled.
"Well, I'd rather be a rude self centred prick than a moronic stuck up bitch," he retaliated.
She gasped, scalded. "Stuck up?! How dare you?!"
"Quite easily," he said coolly, his blue eyes fixed on hers. "I'm hardly intimidated by a midget blonde with milk stains all over her jeans."
"You- I am so " She struggled for coherence, her temper choking her. "I hate you!"
The moment the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them; it was such a childish, immature taunt.
"Oh no." The boy's eyes glittered. "I'm so upset. I think I might cry now."
Infuriated, she stormed from the room. The boy followed her.
She was halfway down the path when her mother's voice floated across the road from the front door of their house. The van blocked her view and so all she could see was Melissa; there was no way she could have known that the boy was standing right behind her and could hear everything.
"Any luck? Is there anyone in that house that would live up to your high standards?" she chirped. "Am I going to be introduced to a new boyfriend soon?" She laughed.
Oh. My. God.
She could feel the boy's eyes boring into her back and could almost sense his amusement. "Yes, I'm sure your standards are very high," he said sardonically.
There was only one solution. They were going to have to move again.
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