Doorman

Is that a 12 year old? The thought goes through my mind for only a moment. No, he's clearly just short.

The guy who looks just a little too young for college sighs. "Motherfucker," he mumbles tiredly.
Without thinking, I reply, "I didn't know kids could speak like that."

Fuck.

FUCK.

Why don't I just keep my mouth shut????

"Wow," he says sarcastically, "I haven't heard that one before."

I brush off what just happened. I'm not exactly great at talking to people.

"So... uh... I recognize that look. You locked out?"

He looks up at me, "Yeah, this is, like, the third time this week."

"Jesus, and I thought I misplaced my keys a lot," I say through a sigh, "...you don't happen to have a Bobby pin do you?"

He looks at me, with extreme confusion, "Does it look like I have a Bobby pin?"

"Good point... I'll be right back," I say, bolting toward my dorm.

The dorm was cluttered with random trinkets and half-finished projects I never turned in. So much for trying this semester... I rummage through the dirty pile of clothes that used to be a bed. I just now notice how much my side of the room contrasts my roommate's side. All of their covers are tucked in, and their desk is extremely tidy. BACK ON TASK! I find the pins in the pocket of a pair of jeans I wore three months ago. Perfect. Right where I left them.
I run back to where I was before, triumphantly holding the pins in the air.

"I want to ask what you're going to use those for, but I have a feeling I already know," he says with a concerned but also bored expression.

Alright. Impress tiny and cute boy with my lock-picking skills time.

I straighten one of the pins out and put it in the lock, I then force the other pin into the lock, right on top of the first one.

"You know," he begins in after a few minutes, "I don't think that's going to-" He is interrupted by a soft click and the door opening slowly.

"You're welcome," I say, standing up from the lock picking position, "So... what are you majoring in?"

"Uh, software development..." he stammers bewilderingly, "and thanks."

I nod. "Cool."

Now, my awkwardness is at the point where I don't know how to properly ask for someone's name. Instead, I walk away towards my dorm.

What the fuck?
I didn't even get his name!
I hate myself!
This is the end!

I push the disgusting pile of laundry off of my bed, and close the curtains so there is only a small sliver of light coming into the room. I can only drag myself to the bed that is barely a bed.

This isn't even about him.

Thinking about every interaction has me cringing into your skull. The word "why" goes through my head a million times.

Why would I talk to him?
Why would I ask him what his major is and NOT his name?
Why would I pick his lock?
I'm insufferable.
I'm disgusting.

These thoughts drift through my mind until I finally fall asleep. At 5:00 pm.