Strawberry Kisses by Phavy Prieto (always you kirsty moseley .TXT) 📕

enter my room like a hurricane, destroying everything that I had perfectly organized and sorted by color, alphabet or personal taste. But the idea of living alone didn't appeal to me, and sharing the expenses helped financially.

"I know," I said, putting on the green necklace I had chosen for that day to match the shoes. "I'm going out in exactly five minutes. If you don't show up at the door, I will leave without you," I warned.

It would have been neither the first nor the last time that I left without Nerea, especially after I was late for work three times because of her. As punishment, I went out without her on three more occasions until she became punctual.

"I’m coming! I’m coming! I’m coming!" she screamed as I watched her hop towards the door, attempting to put on her shoes.

I met Nerea in high school. We both come from the same Spanish village (one so small I don't even mention it because it probably doesn't appear on the maps). Since we were going to study in the same city, our parents decided to find an apartment for both of us. While I was studying finance and spending sleepless nights drawing charts and diagrams, Nerea pretended to study psychology. In fact, she skipped most of her classes due to the constant outings during the first year at university. It took her three years to focus on her studies, and now she was trying to combine school with working as a part-time receptionist at a private clinic.

Although Nerea tells me that I am a crazy woman obsessed with control, the truth is I see myself as someone too normal: I wake up early every morning, read the news, go to work for eight hours, go to the gym, prepare lunch for the next day, watch a movie or a TV series, read a book, listen to music. Is it not what everyone does? The only difference is that I write down everything in advance to be sure not to forget anything and not to waste time, and I consider this a very valuable asset.

"Good morning, Maria!" said the intern, who had been entrusted to me during these months, smiling as she handed me a latte.

"Good morning, Andrea," I answered with less kindness, taking the paper cup. "Has the boss already arrived?" I asked, already knowing of the general anxiety because of the arrival of a new branch manager expected this week.

"No, maybe he won't come in today," she shrugged, as I headed to my office. I assumed the new manager was not used to mingling with "the mob", but that week I had to present a new investment project with high profitability, and I did not feel like presenting it to someone nitpicky and repressed, like his predecessor.

"Well, let's hope he doesn't show up until Friday," I replied. As I sipped the latte, I let out a Tarzan-like cry. "What did you pour into the coffee, milk or lava?" I screamed sticking out my tongue, as I tried to blow on it.

Don't do it, it's technically impossible.

"I'm sorry, Maria!" Andrea shouted hysterically. "I got confused!"

"Of course you did!" I said in a harsh way. I gave her back the paper cup with the latte from hell and walked towards my office.

"I'll bring you one with cold milk immediately," she said embarrassed, walking briskly.

"Great! Two minutes wasted,” I thought, after I closed the door and turned on the computer that my intern had negligently forgotten to turn on.

Back home I placed the gym bag on the kitchen counter where the washing machine was. I was about to take off my dirty clothes to do the laundry when Nerea suddenly appeared.

"Hey! You're back!" she exclaimed enthusiastically. "Did you read my messages?" she asked eagerly.

"I didn't look at my cell phone," I said, as I opened the refrigerator to get the fish I had to cook for dinner.

"I need you to do me a favour tonight," she said pleading.

"If it lasts more than half an hour, don't count on me," I said. I programmed the washing machine and took my gym bag to go back to my room, but when I looked at Nerea, I saw that she had only one eye made up, and I assumed she had a date.

"Please, please, please!" she begged. I realized it had to be one of those big favours to ask. My curiosity prevailed.

"Let me guess... You want me to clear out for the night, so that you can have a romantic evening with your boyfriend," I told her, sensing that she was getting ready like that because she had a date with Mr. Million, as she called him, for, according to my infallible calculations, that should have been their third date.

"No!" she categorically denied. "I don't even think of bringing Mathews here," she said bluntly.

"No wonder! If only he saw your room, he would run away," I thought, since the guy in question was a super cool British guy, full of money.

It was frankly funny that Nerea, with a worse English pronunciation than my grandmother, pronounced "Mathews" so well, that you would have thought her entire childhood was spent in one of those expensive British academies full of Mathewses.

I crossed my arms and stared at her. Judging from the way she was dressed, I doubted that her request was to lend her some clothes.

"Then what?" I asked, a little surprised. I didn't know what Nerea was going to ask me, because the options were running out.

"I need you to come with me tonight," she said, without further ado.

"Don't even think about it!" I replied with even less ado and turned my back to her.

Going out for dinner or dancing was not on my agenda. Neither was anything she had planned to ask. I had other plans, and my