Why is it so bright already. This pillow isn't mine. I shouldn't move. She'll know I'm awake if I move. My mouth tastes like socks. Why didn't I brush again last night. Is she awake? Maybe she's not. I could just wait her out. What if she's waiting for me. I can't hear anything. No, there's something, a sound. That has to be her. Unless the building creaks on its own. Maybe she's the kind of person who just… sits up right away. Or maybe she hates mornings. Or maybe she gets up at five to run. No, she doesn't look like a runner. Does she? Is that a rude thing to assume. What am I even thinking.
Don't look. Just stay still. Or maybe roll over. Is it weird to just lie here and not say anything. People say good morning, right? Or is that only in movies. I should say something. Or maybe wait. Let her do it. My face feels hot. I bet my hair is a disaster. God, what if she saw me drooling last night. What if I snore. Did I snore? Maybe she didn't notice. Or maybe she's pretending not to notice. That would be nice of her. Or maybe it's worse if she's just waiting for me to mess up again.
Should I cough? No, then she'll think I want attention. Or maybe she'll think I'm sick. God, don't cough.
Is it too soon to get up? If I move now, do I look eager? If I wait too long, I look lazy. How long do people just lie in bed in new places. I bet she's already annoyed.
Okay. Breathe. I can't tell if that's her moving. Maybe she's organizing her stuff. Or she already finished and now she's waiting for me. What if she's staring at my side right now. It's probably a mess. I should have put that mug away. My socks are everywhere. Her side's probably perfect.
Okay, just do it. Sit up. Don't make a sound. Try to look casual. God, I hope she's not looking. If she is, I'll just say I always wake up early. Nobody believes that. Whatever. Just keep your head down.
My head hurts. Is it the pillow? Or nerves. Probably both.
I wish I knew what I was supposed to do next. I wish there was a list for this.I finally get up. She's at the door now.
Oh god, she's looking. I'm not even fully awake, face probably wrinkled from the pillow. Don't trip, don't say anything weird. Wait, am I supposed to say good morning? People do that, right? Maybe just smile. Not too much. Crap, I'm staring. Just say it.
"Um—morning."
She glances back. Barely lifts her chin. "Morning."That's it? Shortest greeting ever. Or maybe she's just tired. Or maybe I sound ridiculous. I should've stayed quiet. Or made a joke. Something. Don't overthink it. Why do I care this much about one word.
My mouth moves before my brain can catch up.
"I'm just—uh, gonna use the bathroom first."
Why did I say that. Who announces that.
She glances back, just nods. "Okay."
I grab my stuff like it's some emergency.
I shouldn't have said anything.
Did that sound weird?
Now she probably thinks I'm obsessed with schedules or hygiene or—God, what if she thinks I'm sick.
Or that I'm making her wait.
Or—no, she's probably not even thinking about it.
She's probably just glad she doesn't have to go first.
Or maybe she's annoyed.
Why is this so hard.
My hand's sweating on the doorknob.
Why do I always announce things like I need a gold star for basic life tasks.
The light in here is so harsh. Eyes sting already. Toothpaste, toothbrush. Just keep moving. Don't drop the cap. Act like this isn't the first time.
Someone's showering. Ginger hair in the mirror, only back turned. Just brush. Don't look.
Arm in the hair. Should probably use a shower cap.
Other hand moving low. Too low.
Is that—? No, can't be.
Who scrubs like that?
That's not washing.
Unless some people… no way, nobody would… not here, right out in the open.
Maybe she's just a clean freak.
Or likes the risk.
Dont stare, just brush the damn teeth.
Glance away. Count tiles, rinse.
What if she turns around. Sees me gawking. What if we make eye contact. I'd have a heart attack on the spot.
What if it were me standing there, hands between thighs, thinking nobody's watching.
Nope, wouldn't survive that. Probably just drop everything, bolt, forget the towel, just run dripping down the hall like some freak. No way. I'd rather die.
Gods, she's still going at it. I wish I had even a small part of her confidence...
Pretend nothing happened. Face burning. Of course. Genius move. Couldn't be more obvious if I tried.
Need to get out of here. Spit, rinse again, try not to drop anything.
Stall's empty. Slip inside, lock up.
Didn't realize how much needed to pee.
That's more than pee. Did I really get wet from just that?
Is this even normal? Am I a freak?
Maybe too much imagination, not enough sleep.
God, brain, why do this now.
No time for this. Unless I skip a lesson, get the room to myself. Stupid. What, do it on her bed? What the hell am I thinking? Why now. Why all of a sudden.
Jolt out. Of course she's right there. Towel, freckles, water everywhere—just my luck. Don't look at her. Don't look at her. Crap, I'm looking. She's looking right back. God, is my face as red as it feels?
Say something. Anything.
"Uh, hey."
Who said that, me or her? Too close. Stupid towel. Don't drop it. Don't look at her chest. Or anywhere. Just breathe.
"Morning."
Why does my voice sound like that. She glances away, maybe at the sink, maybe just away from me, which—yeah, I'd do that too. Feels like a contest for who can act less weird. I should move. Why am I not moving.
She brushes past. Arm on arm, too much skin, too hot, move, just move—
She mumbles something. "See you."
Nod. "Yeah. Sorry." Sorry for what? Why am I so dumb. Just go already.
Door shuts. Heart is pounding. Did I wash my hands? Whatever. Just breathe. Please don't let her come back in.