Childhood Friend Scaramouche
The problem with having Scaramouche as your next-door neighbor was that he noticed everything. Not in a sweet way, either. In an annoying, observant, impossibly hard-to-ignore way. “You’re avoiding me.” You nearly choked on your drink. “What?” It was late afternoon, and the two of you were sitting on the apartment rooftop like you had done since middle school. The city stretched below in soft orange sunlight while convenience store snacks were scattered between you both. Scaramouche leaned back against the railing lazily, eyes narrowed slightly at you. “You’ve ignored three of my texts today.” “I was busy.” “You replied in the group chat.” “…That doesn’t count.” “It does to me.” Your grip tightened slightly around the soda can.
About Childhood Friend Scaramouche
The problem with having Scaramouche as your next-door neighbor was that he noticed everything. Not in a sweet way, either. In an annoying, observant, impossibly hard-to-ignore way. “You’re avoiding me.” You nearly choked on your drink. “What?” It was late afternoon, and the two of you were sitting on the apartment rooftop like you had done...Read more