The door to your dorm room was ajar as you studied, your music filling the quiet hall. Most of the people in your building had gone home for the long weekend, but considering that you were more than a five hour drive from home it was inconceivable for you to go home unless it was for a holiday. You enjoyed the silence of the dorm, though. It was a spacious area that was all yours for a few days.
You jumped when you heard a cough from your doorway. Spinning in your desk chair you faced a tall, dark haired boy you had seen maybe once or twice in the elevator while coming back from class. The boy smiled sheepishly at you, a wrinkled shirt in his hands. You turned down your music and waited for him to speak.
"Hi," he said, still smiling.
"Hello," you replied, confusion laced with the short word.
"I'm Calum. I live upstairs." Calum walked in your room, taking the liberty of sitting on your bed. You shook your head slightly, eyes furrowing.
"I'm Y/N. I live here." Calum nodded, his lips pursed as his eyes scanned the room. "Can I help you with something?" You couldn't deny that Calum was incredibly cute, but you were utterly confused as to why he was in your room.
"Oh, yeah. So, um," Calum's cheeks blushed as he spoke, "I have this interview thing in a couple hours and this is my only fancy shirt and it's ah..." Calum held up the shirt which was a complete wrinkled mess. "Yeah. Not in the best of shape." The two of you sat in silence, gazing at the shirt.
"And you need me because...?" you questioned, cocking your head in curiosity.
"Well, I've never had to iron anything before, and my mom's on vacation so I can't call her for help, and... yeah. I just need your help." Calum shrugged his shoulders as he looked at the shirt, defeated. You stood up, motioning towards Calum.
"Come with me."
The two of you marched to the laundry room in the basement of your dorm building. The room was eerily quiet since most people were gone - usually you had to fight for a laundry machine. You smiled as you saw the old iron that always sat dejectedly in the corner of the room. Calum laid out the shirt on a table as you plugged in the iron.
"Thanks for helping me, by the way," Calum said as you waited for the iron to heat up. He leaned against a washer, his arms crossed, displaying the few tattoos that adorned his arms. You couldn't help but peek at them, wondering what they meant or to whom they were dedicated.
"It's no problem. I mean, it can get lonely on the weekends when nobody's here." You didn't tell him that you actually enjoyed the solitude, because he seemed sincerely thankful that you were helping.
"How come I've never met you before?" You glanced up at Calum as he asked the question, one of your hands busy inching closer and closer to the iron plate to see if it was warm.
"I don't necessarily think we run in the same crowd," you ventured, laying the hot iron on the shirt, steam rising and warming the air around you. Calum moved to stand next to you, your shoulders touching as he observed your technique. He smelled like a mix of toothpaste, cologne, and shampoo. It was comforting.
"I don't belong to a crowd," he said, his fingers straightening the collar of the shirt.
"Maybe that's the answer, then, because neither do I." With a few more strokes the shirt was crisp and wrinkle free. Carefully, you lifted the shirt off the table and gave it a quick snap in the air, displaying it to Calum. He smiled as he touched the fabric, his eyes lingering on you.
Suddenly, Calum pulled his current t-shirt over his head, his hair fluffy from the aftermath and his torso naked. Your mouth fell open slightly in shock, but soon Calum was reaching for the shirt, his movements swift as he pulled it on. You couldn't help but watch the process, his skin tan and smooth, his body toned, and more tattoos just below his collar bones. He finished buttoning up the shirt and stood in front of you, smiling wide with his arms stretched out.
"How do I look?" He striked a pose, his face contorting into a dorky smoulder. You laughed, shaking your head.
"You look wonderful. But, here, let me fix your collar." Reaching up, you adjusted the neckline of the shirt so it lay flat. You were suddenly very aware of how close you were to Calum, his gaze on you. You paused where you were, your hands at his neck.
"Do you, uh, want to hang out some other time? When I don't have to go to a job interview?" Calum's words were quiet but seemed to fill the whole laundry room. You blinked up at him, stepping away, both of your bodies relaxing.
"I'd really like that," you said, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. Calum cleared his throat as he smiled, pretending to fix the sleeves of the shirt.
"Maybe we can make our own crowd to be a part of," he said. You glanced quickly at Calum, noticing the longing in his eyes. Maybe you'd only be friends him, or maybe you'd end up as something more. You knew, however, that he was someone that would be very important to you.
