The summer heat was unbearable, the sun almost blinding you through the window of your small apartment, that almost cost too much for you to live there. You were sitting on the small couch, staring at your phone, waiting for something, anything, to appear. Waiting for Scaramouche.

He lived in the dorms of the college you both went to, so he often snuck out to come to your apartment. You knew him since high school, but you didn't talk until college, after you started taking care of your looks and started branching out. What you two had was 'casual' is what he called it. You weren't dating, just hanging out, just spending nights together, it was just hook up after hook up. He'd text you excuses to not actually hang out, unless it involved going to your house to hook up. You really couldn't understand him, yet you had sadly caught feelings. He probably only met up with you because you were attractive now. And yet here you were, waiting for a text, a call, anything, in your far too hot apartment. Suddenly your phone finally dings.