I stood awkwardly in the living room, trying not to laugh as Mrs. Rosenberg unleashed a verbal storm at her husband. Mr. Rosenberg stood there looking utterly defeated, a bright red handprint visible on his cheek.
"Seriously, Erik?! What is wrong with you?" Mrs. Rosenberg scolded, her hands on her hips. "I told you that an old friend came to visit Frey, and you just barged into her room?! What kind of sense does that make?"
"Yeah, Dad, it makes no sense!" Frey chimed in, her pale blue eyes narrowing. "What if we'd been doing something inappropriate? Even if we weren't, it's still an invasion of privacy to just barge in like that."
"Please," I added, crossing my arms, "next time, knock before entering someone's room. It's basic respect." Despite the frustration bubbling beneath the surface, I couldn't help but find the scene in front of me mildly amusing.
Mr. Rosenberg sighed and looked genuinely remorseful. "Look, I'm sorry; I should have knocked. But when Emily told me an old friend came over, I knew it was either Rika or your ex. The two people I was hoping to see again—for two very different reasons—so I kind of ran in without thinking."
I blinked in confusion, processing his words, before slowly turning to look at Frey. Her face was a fiery red, a mix of embarrassment and fury.
"Frey…" I said calmly. Too calmly. Scary calmly.
She flinched, her pale blue eyes darting to mine. "Y-Yes?"
I just smiled, and Frey groaned audibly.
"Damn it, Dad! Now I have to deal with scary Rika!" she exclaimed, grabbing a couch pillow and throwing it at her father before bolting up the stairs.
I followed at an unhurried pace, my terrifyingly calm smile never faltering. Behind me, I heard Mrs. Rosenberg mutter, "Well, Erik, now we just pray that Frey can survive this."
When I entered Frey's room, she was perched nervously on her bed, her hands gripping the blanket like it might save her from the inevitable.
"R-Rik-ka, I-I c-can ex-explain," she stammered, her voice shaky.
"Oh really?" My voice was saccharine sweet, dripping with faux kindness. It was the kind of tone that made people's skin crawl, and judging by the way Frey recoiled, it was working.
As I stepped closer, my eyes gleamed with a dangerous glint. Frey shivered, a chill running down her spine. She knew she was in for a long night.
____
Back in first grade, Rika had gotten like this for the first time.
She and Frey had been playing with toys during recess, engrossed in their make-believe world. At one point, Rika had excused herself to go to the bathroom. Frey, distracted and unaware that Rika would return, gave away their toys to another group of kids who wanted to play with them.
When Rika came back and saw the toys were gone, she didn't cry or yell. Instead, she smiled—a calm, sweet smile that sent a shiver down Frey's spine, even at that age. Rika didn't say anything, but she wore that eerie expression for the rest of the day.
Later, when they went to Frey's house after school, Rika quietly planned her revenge. When Mrs. Rosenberg brought them snacks, Rika made sure to eat every single one of Frey's favorites, leaving only the ones Frey disliked. Then, while Frey was distracted eating, Rika snuck away and hid all of Frey's favorite toys.
Frey spent the rest of the evening searching for her missing toys, growing increasingly frustrated. Meanwhile, Rika acted perfectly normal, her smile now innocent and unassuming.
It wasn't until a full year later that Frey found out the truth. She'd been reminiscing about the toys she never found and mentioned it offhandedly, only for Rika to casually admit what she'd done.
____
Now, in the present, Frey was on all fours, and I was sitting comfortably on her back like she was a piece of furniture.
"So," I began, my voice somehow even sweeter than before, "do explain now."
"Well…" Frey hesitated, her words faltering under my intense gaze. "A few weeks after you moved in with your grandma, I was lonely and wanted to forget about you—"
"So you started dating some random chick to try to distract yourself, and it didn't go well?" I interrupted, raising an eyebrow.
"Not exactly," Frey admitted, glancing away. "It was actually that guy who's been hitting on me since fifth grade."
I blinked. "Wait, he's still chasing after you? Talk about determination."
"Well, he's persistent. I'll give him that," Frey said with a chuckle. "But it didn't take long for me to realize he wasn't the one I wanted. It's still you and probably always will be you."
"Aw, isn't that sweet?" I said, leaning down slightly. "I'm still straight, and that's probably not going to change."
Frey looked up at me, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Then why are you mad that I dated someone?"
My smile was so sweet it could cause diabetes. "It's not that you dated someone. It's the fact that you did something stupid to try to smite me."
To be honest, I didn't really know why I was upset. Maybe part of me liked the idea of Frey being so hung up on me. Maybe I enjoyed the attention or the thought that someone was so deeply in love with me. Or maybe I was just a bad friend who used Frey's feelings to boost my own ego.
…Nah.
Frey sighed heavily. "And of course, you already knew that. I got punished enough when that dude tried to get in my pants. He was very persistent; every time we were alone, he'd ask. That's the main reason I broke it off."
My sweet smile faded, replaced by a smirk. "Serves you right. And I can see why your dad wants to kick his ass."
"That's not why," Frey said, shaking her head. "I never told my parents about that. When I broke up with him, I came home crying because I missed you. They saw me and asked what was wrong, so I told them he broke up with me."
I slid off of Frey, shaking my head. "Well, he sounds like a total jerk. You definitely deserve better."
Frey smirked, brushing her streaked hair out of her face. "You?"
"No. And why are you blushing so much?"
Frey's face turned even redder, and she opened her mouth to reply when a voice called from downstairs. "Dinner's ready!"
Frey bolted out of the room like her life depended on it, leaving me to stare after her, unimpressed.
"Perv," I muttered, shaking my head before following her downstairs.