Brenda wanted a normal school year. Instead her mom died.
Salma needed space from her sister and terrible ex. Or else she'd lose her mind.
Delilah didn't think she'd have any more problems after moving far from her hometown. That was until she becam...
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❝To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.❞
—Federico García Lorca
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💔 BRENDA 💔
Screeching with my hands over my eyes, I spun around and darted away from the shower, shutting the door quickly behind me as I went. God, I was a moron. Why didn't I notice the light on? These stupid headphones made it impossible to hear the water running. Who knew listening to Taylor Swift could lead to seeing dicks before dinner?
Still with my eyes covered, I shouted an apology. With the door shut, I dropped my hand from my face and sprinted to my bedroom. Catching my foot on the rug in the hallway, I wobbled out of step, having to grab the walls to regain stability.
"Damnit." I sucked in a cold breath, hissing with my fingers massaging my injured foot. From behind me, I could hear the door to the bathroom opening. There was no time to tend to my throbbing big toe. Limping my way across the hall, I practically dove into my room, closing myself off inside and making sure to twist the lock on the knob.
Soon enough, there was a knock at my door.
Why? I wanted to cry out. Why do you have to make this awkward for the both of us? Why couldn't you just pretend none of this happened and walk right into your room?
I was having a panic attack with each rap against the wood. Day one and I managed to make a fool of myself, cross the line with one of the roommates, and possible bruised my toe.
Today was officially becoming the second worst day of my existence. First the news about Harris and now this. I needed a break or else my sanity would be at risk of becoming unstable.
"I, uh, didn't know I forgot to lock the door." His voice was soft, not as deep as Scott's, but that wasn't to say it seemed feminine. There was a gentleness in his tone; a sweet-tempered voice like my grandfather's. I was happy to hear he didn't sound infuriated. "I guess I thought I did, but I didn't twist it properly."
I didn't say a word. Pressing my back to the bed frame, I remained still on the floor, running my fingertips up and down the fuzzy texture of my pink throw pillow to ease my anxiety. If I waited long enough, I could hope for him to disappear from the front of room.
And then what? My thoughts countered. What are you planning on doing? You can't stay up here forever. You have to come down eventually. He's your roommate. You're going to run into him. Prolonging this does not solve the issue, dummy.
I hated to side with my inner conscious, but I knew it wasn't false. I couldn't avoid Ziyan for an eternity, but I could postpone the awkward tango that was soon to commence. I needed to get out of this house—and fast.
