Coffee and Cockroaches

Chapter 1: A Reluctant Invitation

I never thought I’d be the one to dial her number again. Vika, the infamous ‘baba-chikha,’ as we called her back in the day, was a walking disaster with a penchant for drama and a body that could stop traffic. Short, dark, and smoldering with that exotic, swarthy vibe, she had a wild mane of hair always tied up in some chaotic bun on her head. I sighed, staring at my phone, thumb hovering over the call button. ‘Just get it over with,’ I muttered to myself. I needed a distraction, and Vika, for all her chaos, was never boring.

‘Yo, who’s this? I don’t answer randos,’ her voice barked through the speaker, sharp as a switchblade.

‘It’s me, genius. You still got my number saved as “Asshole Extraordinaire” or what?’ I shot back, smirking despite myself.

She laughed, a throaty, unapologetic cackle. ‘Oh, damn, it’s you. What do you want? I’m in the middle of some serious Netflix and chill—solo edition.’

‘Charming as ever, Vika. How about you ditch the screen and meet me for coffee? I’m bored out of my skull, and I know you’ve got stories that’ll make my ears bleed.’ I leaned back in my chair, already regretting this but oddly intrigued.

‘Coffee? With you? What’s the catch, pretty boy? You tryna get in my pants again or just slum it with the local trash?’ Her tone was dripping with mockery, but I could hear the curiosity underneath.

‘Keep dreaming, short stuff. I just need someone to roast over a latte. You’re the perfect target. Thirty minutes, that shitty café on the corner. Don’t make me wait.’ I hung up before she could argue, knowing she’d show up just to prove she wasn’t predictable.

Sure enough, she strutted in twenty-nine minutes later, her tight jeans hugging every curve and a leather jacket slung over one shoulder like she owned the place. That messy bun on her head looked like it had survived a hurricane. She slid into the seat across from me, smirking like she’d already won some unspoken game.

‘Look at you, all cleaned up. What’s the occasion? Trying to impress me?’ she teased, leaning forward, her dark eyes glinting with mischief.

‘Impress you? Vika, I’d have better luck impressing a brick wall. I just didn’t wanna look like I rolled out of bed, unlike some people.’ I nodded at her chaotic hair, grinning.

‘Oh, fuck you. This is art, okay? You wouldn’t get it. So, what’s your deal? Why am I here instead of bingeing true crime?’ She sipped her coffee, eyeing me like I was a puzzle she was itching to solve.

‘Because you’re a cockroach, Vika. You crawl into every corner of my life, and I can’t shake you. Figured I’d just invite the infestation over for a chat.’ I leaned in, matching her energy, our banter a familiar dance.

She threw her head back and laughed, drawing eyes from the other tables. ‘Infestation, huh? Baby, I’m the whole damn plague. You’re lucky I even showed up. Now, you gonna keep talking shit, or are we gonna get real?’ Her foot nudged mine under the table, deliberate and teasing.

My pulse quickened, but I kept my cool. ‘Real? With you? That’s a dangerous game, babe. Last time we got “real,” I nearly lost my sanity.’

‘Sanity’s overrated,’ she purred, her voice dropping low. ‘Bet I can make you lose a lot more than that if you stop being such a pussy.’ Her foot slid higher, brushing against my calf, and I felt the heat creeping up my neck.

‘Careful, Vika. You’re playing with fire, and I don’t burn easy.’ My voice was steady, but my body was already betraying me, a familiar ache stirring below the belt.

‘Good. I like it hot.’ She grinned, predatory and unapologetic, her foot now pressing against my thigh with intent. The café faded away, the clatter of cups and murmurs of strangers nothing but background noise to the tension building between us.

I knew where this was headed. Back to my place, an inflatable mattress that had seen better days, and a night where every suppressed urge would come crawling out like the cockroaches she embodied. Her feet, those damn feet, would be all over me, teasing and tormenting with a skill that could drive a man insane. I’d barely have to push; Vika wasn’t one to be bullied or tamed—she’d take what she wanted, and I’d be helpless to resist the storm that was her.

‘Finish that coffee,’ I said, my voice rough with anticipation. ‘We’ve got unfinished business, and I’m not waiting another second.’