Complicated People, Complicated Love

New House

Maya

    I walk towards the house that Lucas pointed to earlier. It looks like a house that belongs to someone on one of those rich people shows who only ever complain. The rain pounds down on my ready soaked shoulders as I walk up a long stone path to red painted double doors. Lucas jogs to get in front of me and unlocks the door, gesturing for me to go first. I walk in cautiously. It's amazing. I'm sure it's just an average house, but for someone who's lived in a rat infested apartment their whole life, it's amazing.

      There's a small chandelier hanging from a fifteen foot tall ceiling just as you enter. The hallway seems to go on for miles and the walls are all a dark brown with red trim.

      "Woah," I say. He laughs as he shakes off the umbrella.

     "Glad you like it," he places the umbrella next to the door and walks me into the living room to the right of the foyer. There's a big flatscreen tv over a fireplace. A huge brown couch is pointed at it with a chair of the same whitish color on both ends of the four cushioned couch. The room itself is probably as big as my entire apartment.

      "What do your parents do again?" I ask in awe. He laughs

      "They're scientists, molecular physicians to be exact."

       "They must be smart," I say staring at the tv the size of a baby horse.

       "I guess so," he takes off his shoes and places them next to the fireplace. I look around and see a big grandfather clock in the corner of the room. It's exactly six. The living room goes directly into a huge blue kitchen that smells a lot like Lucas, kind of like oranges or mangos.

       "You can take a shower if you want, I can put out your wet clothes by the fire to dry and you can wear something of mine until then," he says, starting up the fireplace with practiced ease. I try not to think too much about if it's weird to take a shower at a friends house. I decide it's technically not, but that might just be my hypothermic fingers talking. And I realize I'm dripping all over a dark, expensive looking rug, so logistically a shower makes sense.

     "Sure," I say tightly. "Where's the shower?"

       "Right up the stairs and it's the second door on the right," he says pointing to a set of stairs next to the dining room. Can this house get any bigger?!

      "I'll leave some clothes for you outside the door. I'm going to go change," he says shivering. I nod. We head up the stairs and I go into the bathroom. Even his soap is fancy! It's shaped like shells!

I jump in the shower after taking probably too long to figure out the knobs. I try not to cringe when the hot water hits my freezing bare skin. Then I try not to sigh because damn that feels good.

     The shower is pretty sparse in supplies, leading me to believe it's Lucas's. I feel no remorse about pouring a huge dollop of his probably fancy (because have you seen his hair?) shampoo straight onto my head. I rub it in vigorously before rinsing it out and repeating the process with his conditioner. I don't think I've ever experienced water pressure this heavenly. I can actually feel the water against my scalp, washing the suds away. I usually have to stand under a limp spray for five minutes to accomplish that feat.

     That being said, the shower is over way faster than I want it to be. After using a manly smelling body wash I pout to myself when I turn the water off. When I step out, I realize with annoyance that I don't even have a brush. My hair is going to be atrocious.

     I wrap a towel around me and open the door a crack to see a shirt and a pair of boxers on the floor. I pick them up and close the door. Boxers? I guess those are the closest thing to girls pajama shorts a guy like Lucas would have. They're plain looking to my great disappointment. No cowboys. I put the clothes on over my bra and underwear which are still a bit wet to my dismay, but no way am I walking around without them on.