♡ DIALING . . . @lovesdives
⭒ ° . ♡ ― if you asked zoey, their apartment was ( usually ) a sanctuary of serenity and good taste in interior design. she'd sunk a lot of money into making sure each room was COZY to say the least. material comforts were a necessity due to her daily stress intake, what with all her friends liked to put her through - from late night cramming, to frat party spill-over, to their own other more annoying friends. and if you kept asking her, Cole was definitively in that final category. not close enough to be her own friend ( ew. ) and yet, way too goddamn present in her living room wayyy too often. and while things hadn't quite reached mortal enemy territory yet, he was certainly egging his way there one argument at a time. especially when there never seemed to be enough days between their run-ins to actually forget last week's petty grudges.
and, ok. thomas made sure to pencil in regular reminders over breakfast that their beef was SILLY. she could even agree, to an extent. but the thing about zoey was that she was never going to choose the high road. after all, who was she to fight the inevitable ? -- they were meant to be at odds. if Cole had wanted to fix that, he would have tried to by now. so when good-old thom pried her morning OJ from her hands to delicately wrap her fingers between his . . . she knew what it meant for the remainder of her day. ' he won't be here long. ' he'd tried to soothe her pointlessly, like it was going to stop her from doing her damnedest to inconvenience their house-guest / intruder at every opportunity.
" I see you made it up alright. " zoey grimaced when the nuisance in question finally arrived, in spite of the two different locks she'd put between him and her peace. she greeted him like she might death at her door, tone faux-optimistic and semi-sour. " you sure are ... here. cool. hi. "













