Letting You In

Moving In - /2

It's way past midnight on a Friday night. From the rooms down the hallway, I hear laughter, music, and people singing the wrong lyrics. I'm only still awake for the same reason I'm always up too late. I don't tell anyone, especially not my brother, that I always get caught up in the same spiral of watching hockey highlight videos.

Having headphones in, at first, I don't hear the knock on the door. Nobody ever knocks. There is a doorbell, that's way too loud. Loud enough that I'm glad whoever is out there doesn't use it to wake me up. Only when the knocking turns into a pounding, do I pull out one of my headphones. I wait until the sound returns. "Fuck off", I yell.

"It's Nick."

I pause the video. "What do you want?" It's been three weeks since my brother turned twenty-three.

It's difficult enough hearing him through the door, worse with the party. "Can you open the door please?"

I blush as I pull up my covers. I'm not wearing anything. I hate sleeping with clothes on. Hate the feeling of being put into something. I would've put on random clothes, pretend they were my PJs if I'd known someone would knock on my door. "Just tell me why you're here."

Nick stays quiet. I don't move, worried I might not hear his answer. I don't wanna get up. I'm in the perfect spot where one movement will ruin the comfort. I already know I'll have to. Nick wouldn't be on my door. My hoodie is on the floor right in front of my bed. I could put my short sweatpants on. They're already in the laundry, but anything else won't be comfortable. Would take long enough to make it weird.

"I need a place to stay."

I shut my laptop. I lean my head back against the bed board. I say it, despite knowing his answer. "Stay with your friends."

"Quinn's visiting his girlfriend for the weekend."

"Troy?"

"The team's in Michigan."

Pretty sure Troy told me. It's their first road game this season. "Why are you here then?"

"Injured. Can't play."

Didn't know about that. I know he got injured last season but thought he'd recover by now. Troy told me it was something with the ligaments. Nick and I aren't close, but I was worried about him. I've known him only for the two years I've been here, but it's been enough to know Nick's love for hockey.

"Right, sorry. Why do you need a place?"

"A pipe broke the floor above mine. Water damage all over the place. I wouldn't ask you if I had someone else."

For a second I still consider not moving, but then I put my laptop aside, throw my AirPods on the nightstand, and get up. "Give me a minute." I put on my hoodie, get my shorts. I yawn as I tied up my hair and realize how tired I am when my hands are feeling shaky when I make sure my shorts don't show anything.

I still feel naked when I open the door. I squint cause the lighting is too bright.

"Damn. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." Nick scratches his left eyebrow. He has a couple of sticks in his other hand. His hockey bag rests on the floor. He has a backpack strapped on his back. Wearing sweatpants, untied sneaker, a hoodie with the hood turned inside out, I don't even care about my outfit anymore.

"I was still up." I glance down the hallway. A beer pong table is placed at the end of the hall. Some students look at Nick and me. They're talking about us.

"Sorry, I didn't have anywhere else to go."

I yawn, and with crossed arms lean against the door frame. I'm not ready to let him in yet. I know he needs a place. I know if it really doesn't work for me, he'd still find a place. People aren't really hostile to Nick. I'm sure there are students happy to help. I hate that there is slight excitement about the thought of him staying over. God, nothing ever happens to me. I get anxiety enough, and this might just worsen it. Cause with that water damage, who knows how long he'd have to stay.