Sorry

4 ~ I Need a Shower

After our encounter, the cute boy simply put his headphones on, rolled his eyes and up and left, leaving me in the room on my own, with the worse side of the dorm to work with and an eerie silence to fill.

His belongings are strewn everywhere, demonstrating more of that 'I-don't-care' attitude from earlier, leaving me to wonder when he was going to clear it up because he had been gone for an hour already. 

Despite him being really good looking, I'm beginning to dislike him more and more.

He's probably homophobic. 

The thought is fleeting but lingers in the back of my head as a recurring prospect that makes me rethink my approach and how I should act around him. Roommates are usually the inauguration of rumours and I prefer not to be the butt of yet another joke.

I sigh loudly, rubbing my hands over my face as if I have a large migraine that has extended from my forehead to my chin. Here I am expatiating over this boy, but I didn't even learn his name.

Trying to forget about the start of a potentially ruined relationship with this guy, I start to unpack as carefully as I can without getting on his side of the room.

My side, however, is drab, damp, slightly mouldy and all in all: a disaster of a living space for a university which prides itself with such prestige and illustriousness.

I decide that tomorrow will be dedicated to exploring the campus and seeking out grocery stores or supermarkets nearby so I can set about spring cleaning for my Friday afternoon before the assembly on Saturday. I'm too exhausted to do much now, so I settle with emptying my suitcases.

The beds are the first thing one would see upon entering the room. His bed is pushed against the wall on the right and mine is symmetrical on the left. Behind the beds are wardrobes which look like they may collapse if we breathe too hard. Then a row of three doors line the back wall, marking the entrances of separate rooms.

I discovered that the door to the far right led to a bathroom and toilet which I figured will pose as a huge problem in the mornings if I need to use it but find it's occupied. This idea promptly leads me onto another miniature panic attack. What if I pee myself in front of him? What is he going to think about my accidents? 

I furrow my eyebrows and halt my folding and unpacking to play a trailer of different scenarios in my head that I could possibly find myself in. They all ended in laughter and humiliation for some reason. I stick my thumbnail between my teeth and gnaw at it subconsciously; only realising that I was doing it when I reached the cuticle so had to stop. 

Trying to shake the negative thoughts away, I think of a solution.

There must be toilets in the corridors of such a large building. I'll just go in search for them when I'm done here and go out to use them in case of an emergency. I nod in approval of my own ingenious idea and start on clearing the last of my bags.

A good two hours later, I collapse onto my bed, exhausted. The wardrobe looks dangerously close to experiencing a devastating collapse but it holds for the time being, so I'm not too worried about it as I lay on the bed, beginning to drift in and out of consciousness.

I suddenly jerk awake, however, when the door slams open and I am forced to sit up violently, thinking I was getting robbed, momentarily forgetting where I am. My vision is blurry and I get a slight headache from jumping out of such a deep sleep. I need to blink a few times before I am able to see more than just faint outlines and a hazy dimness. 

His silence is deadly as he slinks into the room, shutting the door behind him. I wipe the drool from the corner of my mouth and feel a blush rise up my face. His presence makes me  flustered and I realise that my senses are returning. Just watching him move feels intimate and...wrong.