note: I know that this one is unfinished; I would finish it, but I honestly can't remember what I was trying to do with it so here ya go
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- Demi's POV -
The front door slammed with a heavy thud that seemed to reverberate throughout my small apartment. Is it eleven already? Is her shift over already? Wincing, I combed the last bit of conditioner through my hair before turning off the water for my shower. Instead of listening to the soft, monotonous lull of water droplets splattering against the shower floor, I now listened for my girlfriend's footsteps as she searched our home for me.
I had left the bathroom door ajar during my shower - call it paranoia or anxiety or catastrophic thinking - but she pushed the door open wide on her quest to find me. Peeking out from behind the shower curtain, I could see her flushed face and pursed lips. She stood, hunched over. Deflated. As if the weight of the entire world was dangling above her shoulders by a string, threatening to crush her.
"How bad was it?" I asked her. "One to ten."
"10,000." Her answer sounded congested, and she sniffled. I watched as she tore a piece of toilet paper off of the roll, blew her nose, then flushed the paper. She put the toilet seat lid down and claimed it as a chair. "I tried calling you."
Guilt bubbled in the pit of my stomach. Sharp and sour. Like taking a huge bite out of an unripe grapefruit and not being able to rid the taste from your tongue afterward. She tried to call me, but I hadn't checked my phone since I left work. I was too focused on how exhausted I was. On how I wanted to get home, take a nice shower, and embrace the weekend ahead of me. On prioritizing wine and Netflix binge-watching over grocery shopping. I didn't even consider that Selena might have needed me. God, I'm such a shitty girlfriend.
"I turned my phone off as soon as I left the office. I'm sorry, Sel."
She shrugged, but her eyes turned downcast, away from mine. "It's okay. It's not your fault that my job sucks."
My teeth dug into my lower lip as I weighed my options. The last thing that I wanted to do was make her feel unheard and worse about whatever happened while she was at work.
"Let me rinse this," I gestured to my hair, "out and then we can talk, okay? We can bitch and complain, and then we can start planning murders and disappearances."
Her frown lifted, not enough to form a full-blown grin, but enough to reassure me that she would be okay.
"Do you need help rinsing that out?"
"Is that your nice way of asking to join me?"
She tilted her head, squinted her eyes, and tapped a finger against her chin, in mock-thought. "That depends. Did my way of asking work?"
I chuckled. "Go lay some comfy clothes out on the bed, and I'll get the water warm again." The lack of warm water or towel caused tiny mountains to form on my skin. If she didn't hurry, my teeth were going to start clattering. "And hurry up before my tits freeze off," I called after her.
Her laughter brought a grin to my face. "That would be unfortunate for both of us," she countered.
"Smartass," I mumbled, loving the feeling of not being able to force my smile away. I loved how she could do that to me. Provoke that feeling of fuck, my body is going to burst from so much happiness. And I wouldn't change a single thing about her, myself, or my life with her. Of being at peace and feeling content when she's near. Of knowing that everything would be okay. That everything would work out in the end. That I would survive and thrive and be happy. All as long as I had her hand to hold during the day and her body to fall asleep next to at night.
When did she turn me into some lovesick, lovey-dovey sap? Who the fuck even am I anymore? With a smile, I turned the water back on, drowning out the sound of dresser drawers opening and closing.
