So they were all alone. For so long, I believe. And because I might sound like the overreacting/overprotective guy here, let me rephrase this. She was all alone with a very attractive, sacredly sculptured, perfectly toned, precisely proportionate, nothing less than symmetric, muscly man for pretty enough time to delete all my files from her system. Her backups too. She was even comfy enough to take off her shoes and lay on his couch. She was having red wine and it isn't noon yet! And he was looking at her with a smile that turned ME on, for god's sake! There was inexplicable intensity in his gaze. Like he was posing​ without even noticing. And although it's so uncomfortable to admit this, but I, a very straight man I promise, find it hard to take my eyes off him. I swear his biceps are challenging me on a staring contest or something. I would be a hell of a liar if I said I don't feel threatened. Because guys like him are like our gender's version of Victoria's Secret supermodels.

"So you made it. For a second, I thought you took a nap on the roof or something. Like this is even the first floor you was supposed to check. Don't tell me you went all the way to the first flood to follow the ascending order. That will definitely make you a geek. Big time," she seemed relaxed and carefree. Happy. Happier than the last time I saw her. Jealousy knocks.

"No I didn't. I just skipped the fifth floor because...do we really have to talk about this. Wasn't the point to find you? And I did. Introduce me to your friend now."

"Oh yeah, my bad. Edgar this is Richard. Richard this is Edgar. You know I would like to say that you guys would go along but I know you won't. Because you guys are different but still good. In varying ways. And at some point...things would get awkward," and she giggled for a while before burying her face in one of his huge pillows and shaking rhythmically as she continued to laugh mutely. She was getting drunk, and I am, suddenly, very annoyed for no reason. I looked at her for a second, cursing my puny heart for being so weak and needy.

"Awkward? Why?" I couldn't help but ask.

He looked at me over his huge, bulgy chest and the stiff pounds of muscles, aka arms, crossed over it and said, "So she didn't tell you we used to date."

"Date?" Shit. I knew she wasn't that immune to his magic. I hate him more now. I am, actually, trying to count the reasons not to kill him right now. None found. Except that I really need him to introduce me to his barber. His hair is epic, and it enrages me even more that, regardless my escalating anger and insecurity, I couldn't stop contemplating and approving of all he is. It's sad.

She finally raised her head up and looked at me.

"I knew that would just be awkward. It wasn't serious anyways. We went out a couple of times, but then we decided it wasn't going to work. He asks too many questions. Very invasive and committed. Ew, boring. But we were good, though. Friendship was just our calling. Better for the both of us."

"Yeah. But that doesn't mean I don't find you charmingly attractive, my lady. It's just that I respect your decision," and he winked at her. Call me egotistic, but I believe that wink was meant for me. Oh boy, he must be digging his grave.

"Edgar, please. Stop messing around. He already seems to hate you enough."

"Hate him? Why? I barely know the guy. Maybe because you never mentioned him."

"Wow. Here we go!" she said raising her arms above her head abruptly then letting them fall to her side.

"Chill man. Let's not take this seriously," he said with the phoniest tone I've ever heard. Or maybe it's not his tone but the way I chose to hear it. Either ways, I was pissed.

"I think it was clear that I was talking to her. You were, obviously, uninvolved. So stay so," I tried my best to sound as calm and civilized, while inside my head I already chopped him, made cute sushi out of his flesh, and fed him to the wolves.

"Richard. This isn't cool," she said, glaring at me.

"Not cool? Pardon me, princess, for I offended your dear friend. You can ask me to leave if you want, so I don't bother him again."

"Stop being childish, Richard! Or I will do ask you to leave?"

"Are you threatening me now? For what? For him?!"

"Guys! Please, come down! This is already awkward enough!" he said, standing between us. Although I was just one second away from jumping at him and sliding my angry fangs into this neck, I was thankful for his presence in this very spot between us. She was, literally, emitting laser rays from her eyes that penetrated my skull and roasted my brains. That glare on her face was so scary that I know I will have nightmares.

"I am sorry, Edgar, that you had to witness that," she, finally, broke the silence.

"Yeah, she's sorry, Edgar, that you had to meet her shitty job of a boyfriend," I blurted, without thinking. I do that a lot lately. And I hate me so much that I shall kill me.

"What's wrong with you?! Why do you always do that! You're way too overprotective and damn INSECURE! You treat me like I'm too immature that I can just shed you off the moment I spot a guy who dressed better or looked smarter. You're so freaking possessive it's suffocating! Just get over yourself!", and then she looked back at Edgar, "it was nice seeing you Eddie. I'll catch up later." Then she stormed out the door and slammed it behind her.

I stood there motionless, unable to process what just happened. As I stood it the middle of his house, staring at his expensive, Iranian carpet, he watched me in equal confusion. And I have to admit that I like his interior design loads. It's hard to believe that someone with a refined taste in furniture and architect is actually that vulgar.

"Man, follow her. That ain't right. I don't really understand chicks, but I know that an angry chick is a dangerous one. Don't let her go like that."

I nodded and rushed to the door. Once I was almost out, I turned back to him.

"Thank you for the advice and everything, but I just wanted to make something clear. She's mine. I've no intentions of losing her. Not to you. Not to anyone. Not even to herself. So better not mess around her. I am serious," and I left.

I prayed inside my head to find her just outside the building, waiting for a cab. Or even just one block away. But you're granted no wishes when you've got no deposit. She was found nowhere. Not in the next block. Or the one after. Or anywhere near the building. So I headed to hers. And I knocked on her door over and over, but no reply. It was hard to decide whether she wasn't inside or was but pretended not to be. I touched my ear to the door and covered the other with one hand. Then used the free hand to call her. I hoped to hear her phone ring so I can make sure she's home safely, but no. there was no ringing. And my mind started to race. Where could she be? I decided to hop into my car and scan the neighborhood for any sign of her.

After hours of patrolling, I lost hope. She was not going to show up. Not tonight. And something inside me ached at the thought of her going to bed mad. Or the possibility of her hating me. What if she breaks up with me? I know my heart wouldn't take it. I would die out of torment. Death will actually be an act of mercy. I stopped the car the side of the road and grabbed my phone. I called her again. Nothing.

"...you can leave a message after the tone. Beep..."

"Hazel... babe I am so sorry. I don't know what's got into me. I wasn't thinking straight. Actually, I wasn't even thinking. Please, pickup your phone. Let me just talk to you. What shall I do so you'd forgive me? Please... at least let me know you're okay. Are you home yet? Babe...I love you. Don't do this to me," I didn't know I was crying until I had to sniff, "Call me when to get this, please."

I drove home in melancholy. I opened my flat's door and walked myself to my beige couch with my head dangling in defeat. It just came to my notice that I hate this couch. Something about it riles me. Like it ridicules my emptiness by its coziness. It composes a vexing paradox. Maybe I'll let hazel pick another couch. If she doesn't mind seeing my face again. I fell into the sadistic couch, drowning in thought. The drowning was starting to feel physical.