Watermelon Sugar | MYG

1

New bed. And a new pillow - your neck can tell. You don't feel the common confusion of waking up in a different place, because you know exactly where you are. It took you a connecting flight and an overly expensive cab ride for you to wake up here. Greece.

Having arrived after midnight, you didn't have much time to look around, only having time for a quick shower before hitting the sack. The studio apartment that is yours for the next two weeks is clean and that's good enough for you. Sure, the view from the balcony is the view of a rather lame backyard and not the crystal blue sea but it's not the first time you fail to book the accommodation of your dreams. None of it can ruin your mood though, not after you have spent two whole years saving money, planning the trip, and organizing your vacation days to make this your absolute dream holiday.

With two whole weeks of adventure, mouth-watering food, and the smell of the sea ahead of you, nothing can ruin your mood. Not the bad view, not the street noise that woke you up more than once during the night, not even the fridge with a freezer that can't freeze for shit.

The kitchenette is decent, decent enough for you to make a cup of cold instant coffee – as cold as it can be without ice, that is. Smiling brightly and looking forward to today's adventure, you step out onto the balcony, stretching as you put the coffee down onto a surprisingly shitty, and fairly wobbly table. Sighing, you press onto the surface and shake the table, trying to see just how wobbly it is and what you can do about it – you don't get to find out before you hear a weak cough behind you.

You quickly turn around, not expecting anyone behind you – lo and behold, there is a man sitting on the balcony of the studio to your right. Half hidden behind a laptop, he gives you a pointed look. He doesn't say it, nor does he look down, but the look is enough to remind you that you don't have any pants on. Yeah, he definitely saw your ass. Thankfully, you are at least wearing underwear.

"Oh! Hi!" you panic laugh, pulling your shirt down, hoping that it'll cover you more. "Didn't realize someone's staying in the room next to mine."

"No worries," he shakes his head, barely a hint of a smile on his face. "Sorry I scared you."

"It's okay."

It's awkward. You're still very much half-naked and sitting with your back turned to him, trying to act natural while aimlessly scrolling through Instagram. He doesn't really seem like he is up for a conversation and honestly, neither are you. Still embarrassed and a bit uncomfortable with how you looked stupid as hell, the thing you want the most is to hide back into the room – which is clashing with the other thing you've want the most, and that is to drink your morning coffee in peace.

You weather through half a cup before walking back inside, avoiding any kind of eye contact and communication with your temporary next-door neighbor. Drawing the curtains, you sigh, realizing that you will have to do this every damn time you change – if he stands close enough to where your balconies meet, he has a direct view of your bed and closet.

Nope – you're not letting anything ruin your Greek adventure. No way in hell.

<>

It was when you were hanging your swimsuit to dry that you realized what kind of idiot you are. The neighbor saw your underwear, which officially shows less skin than any of the swimsuits you own. That made smiling at him easier, because as you were struggling to hang your clothes to dry on the balcony, he was still there – sitting in the same place he did earlier today, still behind his laptop, still barely bothering to look at you for longer than a second.

You did get an awkward smile in return to your own, a small nod too. And you also got a chance to look at him a bit better. He's young, around your age, with dark hair, dark eyes, and fairly pale skin. You couldn't see more from the distance but his mouth was open as he typed something in the speed of light, looking incredibly focused. He looked... strangely endearing.