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Casey was a snorer. Ishaana hadn't noticed it last time but when she woke up on the first of March, greeting the new month with a yawn and a squint, the gentle rumble of his breaths welcomed her to the day. He lay on his front beside her, pressed against the cool wall, and his dirty blonde hair was splayed over his face, obscuring the dreaming flicker of his eyelids. In the light, he looked younger than she knew he was: though he was twenty-three, three years older than her, he looked eighteen as he slept, his back rising and falling with each steady breath. For a moment, she lay on her back with her hands crossed over her stomach, listening to the snores that didn't seem to bother her. They were predictable and oddly soothing, and she stared at the ceiling as she wondered what would happen when he awoke.
He would probably leave straight away. That was what she hoped, at least. They had hardly spoken, despite the two nights they had spent together, and Ishaana was quite content to keep it that way: something about the air of mystery turned her on, and she knew that attraction would fade if she ever knew too much about him. She didn't care about his hopes and fears; she didn't want to hear about his family; she wasn't even bothered about his music. Her interest in him really was only skin deep, and she hoped the feeling was mutual. Any deeper, and things started to get personal.
There was a soft knock on the door and she turned her cheek against the pillow, saying nothing. That was Melody's cue to creep in, poking her head through the gap. Her eyes flickered over Casey before returning to Ishaana's, and she wore a friendly smile on her bare lips. Melody had a natural beauty that needed no make-up, with radiantly clear skin and long eyelashes and the most enchanting shade of rich auburn hair.
"Hey," she whispered, her fingers curled around the door. "Want a cuppa?"
Ishaana nodded and pulled her duvet up around her chest, though Casey was hogging most of it. "I'll come out," she said. "Let me put something on."
Melody disappeared, padding down to the kitchen, and Ishaana slipped out of bed as quietly as she could, pulling on underwear before she found a jumper and a pair of leggings and once she had unplugged her phone, she left Casey to sleep. It was almost ten o'clock, but they had stayed up late as they had pushed each other's boundaries until he had given in first: he couldn't continue after he came on Ishaana's stomach with a grunt and collapsed on top of her, utterly drained after two hours of teasing each other.
Cracking her back, Ishaana sidled over to Melody and crossed her ankles, arms folded as she leant against the counter. "How was your night?" she asked, and her friend laughed.
"Oh, no, you don't get to ask that first," Melody said, her eyes dancing with a million shades of blue and grey, flecks of silver jumping out of the waves of her irises. "You have a sexy singer sleeping in your bed right now. I'm the one with the questions." The kettle whistled when it boiled and she took it off, filling two mugs until the teabags bobbed on top of the water. She poked them with a spoon, infusing the fruit leaves that seeped red swirls like a bloodbath, and handed one to Ishaana. "Sit your butt down."
