PENTHOUSE 521

five | on the docks

My heels clicked against the pavement of the path leading to our condo. On the way over, I noticed Dorian's Impala parked in the driveway. Its turquoise body gleamed in the sunlight. She was back from her classes.

I withdrew my set of keys to our front door. Its lock clinked when I slid in the copper key. Grasping the doorknob, I opened the door; and let myself into our house.

I knew better than to call her name. Her Monday routine had been the same for a year, and being her roommate, I had become well acquainted with it.

I tossed my keys into the entryway bowl, sliding off my coat and hanging it on the coat rack. Then, I walked over to my room to drop off my crossbody on my nightstand.

Before I met with Álvaro, I decided to get a quick bite in the kitchen. I walked by the conjoined living room, and there she was, sprawled out on the couch.

Soft snores trickled from her mouth as her chest moved up and down with each breath. Her eyelids wired shut, indicating she was probably in a deep sleep. Her black curls framed her face. She hadn't even changed from her school attire, as she was in the same outfit she was in before I left for work.

She was wearing a crème colored sweater, dark blue ripped jeans, and lying scattered next to the couch were her black wedges.

Suppressing a chuckle, I moved over to the couch.

"Dorian." I cooed, gently shaking her arm. "Wake up, please. Let's get you to bed."

"No." She groaned, burying her head against the side of the couch. "Give me five more minutes."

I couldn't help but smile a bit.

Dorian had few flaws, but being a workaholic was her biggest. It was typical for her to pull late-nighters to finish a commissioned piece. It was just another time she had worked herself to exhaustion. And a body needing sleep could only be without rest for so long.

"I think we should move you to bed. Come on, get up." I picked up her arm and gently tugged it.

Her eyes snapped open, and she pulled her arm back. Groaning, she sat up, getting ready to exit the couch. "Give me a second."

I plopped down onto the loveseat adjacent to the couch. It was my favorite seat.

"How long was I out for?"

"I don't know, but my guess is something between two to three hours."

"Shit." Her eyes went wide. "I need to add some final details on that commissioned painting. The customer made some last-minute changes." She stood up and walked over to her easel and veiled canvas. Then she gathered her paints from a basket filled with her art supplies, tucked away in the corner of the room.

In an instant, she flung her sweater over her head. She tossed it aside to lie on the dining table in a heap.

White cloth draped over the large canvas in front of her. Pressing my chin against my knuckles as I watched her walk back and forth from her basket with supplies to her stool, I quietly wondered how much progress Dorian had made on the painting in the past four days.

It was a ritual for her to cover unfinished paintings with a cloth whenever she finished for the night. She mentioned something before like it disturbed her creative process whenever anyone could see unfinished art by her. Unless it was a professor of hers, she didn't want my prying eyes to see her art uncompleted.

Being a good best friend, I respected her wishes, but I can't say I didn't have my moments where the temptation to look was great. Almost too tempting.