I stare at the cake in the oven. It's slowly rising. Very slowly. Incredibly slowly. I glance at the door. Where the hell is Taylor? I stand up and pace around the kitchen and then pour myself a drink. I'm meant to add bananas to this freaking cake but so far the deliverer of the bananas is unaccountable. I'm getting pissed.

I grab a magazine and prop myself up against the bench. I become engrossed in an article about narcissism and when I look up thirty minutes later he still hasn't arrived. I'm just about to pick up the phone to ring him when he bursts through the door.

"Hey, sorry," he says and dumps the fruit on the bench, "I was talking to the greengrocer's daughter," he grins. I stare at him. That's his explanation? "We're going out on a date on Tuesday," He states.

"Tuesday?" I ask; my blood is boiling, to use an old cliché.

"Mmm," he murmurs,

"Aren't you going out with Caroline on Tuesday?"

"Oh shit! Yeah. Who do I cancel on? Caroline? Cute and sexy. Or Shanna? Hot and sexy," he looks at me for my opinion. Is he crazy? Is he insane? Am I allowed to call the medics in the white coats that administer psych drugs? He notices me staring at him in disbelief.

"Are you okay?" he asks

"Am I okay? Are you a fucking idiot?" I ask. His face changes expression from concern to confusion.

"Huh?"

"Fuck you, Taylor,"

"What have I done?" he asks, his voice rising.

"What have you done? You've just gone out to buy bananas and you come back an hour later, after the cake is baked, and your explanation is 'I was chatting up the grocers daughter,'? I can't believe it. Don't you give a shit?" My voice has steadily been getting louder as I blurt this all out, "You cancel an exhibition that I have to get up early for and that I've already been to because you're screwing your brains out with some stupid blonde and you don't even have the courtesy to TELL ME! You've turned into such a slut!!!" I yell, flailing my arms about crazily. Taylor's mouth is gaping,

"You know what, Gia?" He snaps back, "There's no need to vent your pent up sexual energy on me. Just because you can't get any action it doesn't mean you can get all bitchy at me because I can. Pardon me, I'm sorry if girls actually look at me," He glares at me.

What. A. Fuck.

"Oh, you know what? Screw you. You think you're better than me? Well at least I'm not whoring myself all over the city. I'm surprised you haven't got one of your loser sluts knocking at your door telling you they're pregnant. What the hell is wrong with you? I'm surprised you actually have a brain in that dense head of yours," I shriek. I'm so angry right now that I think I actually could throw a few punches at this bastard who is supposedly my best friend.

"Oh for crying out loud, honey. You're just jealous because I'm actually going out and having a good time as compared to you who sits there sulking in a corner every time we go out. And then you have the audacity to complain that you don't get hit on. No wonder! I wouldn't hit on someone who looked like you do either!" he asserts spitefully. My body has gone entirely numb except for my heart, which is thudding loudly. The anger flowing through my nerves is indescribable. I'm in utter shock that he's saying this stuff about me. He has to have thought this before for him to be saying it, it's not like you can pull shit like this off the top of your head. When has he thought it? I can't believe he actually thinks it! This whole time he's been thinking thoughts like this and he's sat there calling me his best friend? You don't think stuff like that about your best friend. You just don't. The anger is turning to hurt and I'm ready to just start bawling there and then. I swallow and take a deep breath and roar,

"I can't believe you're saying this! I've sat there and patiently waited while you have flirted with anything that has ovaries while I've had other stuff to do and now I'm sick of it. Put your fucking dick back in your pants before you fucking get AIDS or have a fucking son!" We glare at each other.

I walk out of the kitchen. I grab my jacket, open the door, walk out and slam it behind me. The instant I walk out of the apartment my vision becomes blurry. My best friend? Fuck me.