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Lydia huffed. It was three something in the morning and this god-awful beeping interrupted her movie all because of some popcorn. Throwing her legs over the edge of her couch, she stood up, her feet sinking into the plushy tan carpet. Padding towards the bucket chair, she yanked her pink robe off, flinching at the silver strobe light, flashing constantly as if she was at a party. It wouldn’t stop.
“God, they’re gonna kill me.” Lydia muttered to herself as she slipped on her bunny slippers before making her way to the microwave to hastily pull out the popcorn out, dropping it on the counter.
Throwing her hair up into a messy bun, she rested her hand on the doorknob of her apartment door and threw it open, her face stern. Stepping out and shutting it, she walked down the stairs robotically, shouldering through those who were too slow and caused her impatience to rise.
“Can you go any faster?” She retorted towards nobody specific as she hopped down the stairs, hugging herself.
Once she got down, she took a good look and sighed, the condensation escaped her lips. She let out a yawn as she sat down on the concrete curb. Turning her head to the right, she recognized her neighbor scurrying out, covering his front. Squinting her eyes, she bit her bottom lip, her tongue flicking out.
“Scott?” She called out, curiously.
Her mouth twitched into a tiny smile as her suspicions were confirmed with him responding by walking towards her. “What happened?” She heard.
She shrugged her shoulder and snorted. “No idea, but I smelled burnt popcorn on the way down, so there’s that,” she let out a laugh.
“Are you cold?” She tilted her head as she rubbed his arms as soon as he sat next to her. He felt warm and that made her feel warm inside. Swallowing the excessive saliva that was building up in the confines of her mouth, she smiled at him.
The poor guy, stuck in his boxers. “No time to put on pants?”
She watched the Hispanic man’s cheeks turn red. “Uh, no. No, I was busy. Kinda busy sleeping? I didn’t really realize what it was until it was too late,” he stammered.
“It’s okay, Scott. Your boxers are cute, after all, who doesn’t like Superman?”
She watched him widen his eyes and open and close his mouth repeatedly. A laugh escaped her mouth and she patted him on the thigh.
“Why don’t you just come in with me and I’ll warm you up with some cocoa?” Her plucked eyebrow rose. “After all,” she whispered. “It was my fault it went off.”