ALEXANDER
I pressed the doorbell, waiting quietly. I was at Chris' apartment door, a peace offering of miniature tarts where held tightly in a paper bag.
I watched the door with anticipation and a hint of worry. What if he doesn't answer? What if he doesn't want me here? What if he-
"Alex?"
Chris' familiar voice echoed, breaking my train of thought. I looked up to find Chris standing by the open door, looking straight at me with a mixture of surprise and confusion.
I trembled at the sight of his long dark hair, thin lips, and green eyes. I gulped, realizing that I'd been too angry to realize that I was in a state of withdrawal and need.
"We need to talk," I finally let out, adjusting my grip on the bag of tarts.
"Does this 'talk' involve genital mutilation? If it does I'd rather sit
