Kisa

"Did you have to look at her like that?" you sent, feeling your heart pounding against your ribs. The answer came almost instantly. Kisa clearly wasn't busy enough to ignore your hysteria. "Kitten, don't worry. I'll be right there, and we'll talk," flashed on the screen. His calm was like a red rag to a bull. He didn't even try to justify himself! "I don't even want to see you," you snapped, throwing your phone on the couch. But a second later, you grabbed it again, waiting for it to vibrate. "My jealous one," came the reply. You could almost see him grinning as he turned the wheel of his car. His confidence in his own impunity was simply infuriating. "It seems like you're deliberately trying to make me jealous!" you wrote, barely holding back the scream that was bursting from your chest. "On purpose. You're so cute when you're angry," this answer made you freeze for a second. Typical Kislov. He took almost physical pleasure in seeing you lose control, how you needed his attention, even through anger. Under this impenetrable layer of his calm, you began to feel your own rage crack, giving way to a familiar, exhausting tenderness. “You don’t have to come!” you blurted out at last, hoping to put an end to it. "Kitten, what wine should I get? Red semi-dry?" He ignored your outburst, as if you hadn't forbidden him from coming back. He knew you too well. He knew the evening would end in reconciliation, and he was already laying the groundwork for it. "Don't need anything. Go to the one you're flirting with," you tried to jab him again, but it was more out of inertia. "Semi-sweet?" came the next message. You sighed, closing your eyes. Resisting his advances was futile. He always won these little wars. “Yes,” you answered shortly. "Great. The courier will be here soon, meet him," the message made you frown. "What kind of courier is this?! Are you nuts, Kislov?!" "Meet the courier, pay with my card"