Because You're Different ✔

72. Splatters [Part 1]

Nathan

Some days, I still forgot there was no one at the house but me. Today was such a day.

The door fell shut behind me, cutting me off from the outside world with a soft thud — no work, no exercise, just me and my freedom. I sighed and placed my bag on the stairs, then almost, almost opened my mouth, ready to call out that I was home.

Damn that habit. I'd thought I'd be rid of it by now.

The hall breathed silence, a welcome difference after the hecticness of the office and the busyness of the honking San Fransisco traffic. Immediately, I regretted my decision to reorder my schedule, already feeling the tiredness seep to every corner of my body. Due to a private party, the pool would be closed tonight, so I'd decided to go earlier, even though the other guys had canceled. Six pm, and I was ready to dive into bed. Great. Maybe Albert was right. Maybe I was getting old.

Not giving up on my evening yet, I shook my head. Stay awake. Don't mess up your rhythm.

I opened the bathroom door, automatically switching on the light. My mind wandered to nowhere while I took a leak, filled with a peaceful numbness only an intense work-out could bring you. After washing my hands, I reached for the towel —

only it wasn't hanging on the hook.

It'd been spread out on the cabinet, somewhat carelessly. I frowned, my gaze slowly moving towards the floor. A few drops of water dotted the dark tiles, halfway through drying.

For a second, I froze.

June. The only one who managed to drip water through the whole bathroom and then failed to put the towel on the hook was June.

But June wasn't here. June hadn't been here for two years. She was in New York.

Don't be a fool. It was just a coincidence. The towel had simply fallen off because of me not being careful enough with putting it back this morning, and I'd probably caused the water droplets as well, without noticing.

Suddenly even more tired than before, I went back into the hall, slung my bag over my shoulder, and trudged up the stairs. Maybe Albert was right about that too. Maybe I wasn't designed to be alone. Ever since he'd moved in with Will, a former accountant who now owned an ice cream parlor and spent his time selling sundaes at a ridiculously low price, he'd been meddling with my love life, saying I was twenty-three and needed to get a move on. Until now, I'd just ignored him, but I was starting to wonder if he was onto something. What if I was becoming one of those people who saw stuff that wasn't there? Oh, come on. I was only worn out. That was it.

On the landing, I came to a halt again. At the far end of the corridor, the place I normally tried not to look at, the door was left open, only by a few inches. The door to June's room.

This time, my heart started beating loudly. The drops, the door — could it be...? No, more probable was that Agnieszka had been absent-minded while cleaning today, forgetting to shut the door and to hang up a freshly laundered towel. Those things happened. I was going to close it myself, clear out my bag, and warm up some leftover spaghetti. No surprises. All of this had been a coincidence.

Yet, with every step towards her room, my pace quickened, unable to stop myself from hoping that maybe, maybe I would find her there.

I yanked it open —

Nothing to see.

No June.

I breathed in deeply, rubbing my face. If Sam would've seen me like this, he'd surely have laughed his ass off, suggesting I'd adopt some cats and become a cat lady. Might be a good idea, to be honest. Get a dog. Who knows, it might satisfy Albert enough to stop whining about me being single.