Rebecca was standing there. She was the one that filled her shorts so well, the one with her hair up. She was the one in the store. I look at her. I can’t stop looking at her – she looks way too different. Like someone took her and changed her up. She has her hair up, and wearing an outfit if you told me Rebecca would be wearing, I’d laugh in your face.
Our eyes meet for the longest time. She’s giving me the same look I think I’m giving her. From what I know, she’s no younger guy like I thought it would be. She’s my age. She’s a female. And I have to share a room with her. Oh. Holy shit. I have to share a room with her. The girl that has been so obviously crushing on me for years. She doesn’t seem like the type to pull anything, though, so my stomach loosens.
I turn down the TV and walk over to where she is, realizing her mom made her carry the bags too. I feel like if I say something it’s going to be totally douche-y.
“Do you need help?” I say, trying to sound as smooth as I can. I smile a little hoping. You can’t sound douche-y asking for help. I have to stay in a hotel with her for a week; I’m better off being nice to her then anything.
“That would be sweet, thanks,” she gives me a tiny smile. It’s barely there. Blink and you miss it. I can’t tell if she’s nervous or if she’s always this quiet. That’s when I realize I’ve never really talked to her before. I’ve spent the longest time in classes and in the same school as her and the most I’ve ever asked was ‘can I have a pencil?’ A guilty feeling sweeps over me and I pick up her bags. I hit the door to open it and look at the room we have. It’s lamely lit currently. My mom had never turned it off when she went looking at the rooms. There are two beds across the room, pushed against walls. I hadn’t claimed a bed yet because I didn’t know if the person I had was a whiny ass hole that would just die if he didn’t get next to the window or across from it. The bedside table is squished in between the space between the two beds and a single dresser was on the wall in front of the bed farthest from the window.
“Oh,” she says in a quick voice. She has this look like she was expecting a different set up. I can’t tell if it’s a pervy moment like she expected a single bed or what. A sick feeling goes through my stomach and I lightly put down her things.
“So, uh, this is the room. You can get whichever you want, I haven’t picked one yet,” I tell her and rub the back of my neck. Damn this is awkward. I glance at her and she looks like she’s trying to come up with what to say.
“Can I have the one under the window?” Her voice has gotten a bit more noticeable and louder, like she’s not scared to talk to me as much anymore.
“Sure,” I tell her and grab my things, piling in onto my bed. That’s when I realize we have a single dresser. What if I open the wrong drawers accidentally and get flashed by her … uh … under garments? How awkward would that be? She grabs her own stuff, squatting down to retrieve something from her bag. I try my best not to even glance in her direction but my male hormones get the best of me and I do. I never realized how long her legs were and how tall she was. She’s up to my shoulder. Most of the girls I know barely reach the part where my arm bends in heels. Then again, I’m pretty tall and get told it a lot. It’s apparently like, a flirty thing to say for girls. I don’t get it. They’re always saying ‘you’re so tall!’ In this breathy way, like it’s the first thing they notice about me. It usually is.
“How do you want to do the drawers?” She asks me, looking at them. There’s only three so either one of us will have two drawers or we’ll have to share one.
