All Along [H.S]

Seven

I wake up at a quarter past five in the morning, after about four hours of tossing and turning. I feel refreshened despite the lack of sleep. I convince myself that my tumultuous nights sleep has something to do with the fact that I am jet-lagged. I moan a little and move my hand to my forehead, letting my eyes flutter open. My room is dark and the only light comes from the street lamps outside. I have not gotten a curtain yet, and I doubt I will ever invest in one.

  I lie in silence for a while, staring at the ceiling. There is a small black spot above my head. I try to make out what it is, but it seems impossible in the dark. I do not remember there being a crack, nor a hole, but then again… Why would I have noticed?

I stretch my arms and let out a yawn, before pulling up in a sitting position. My duvet is tangled around my legs, and the room temperature is too hot. I feel sticky and uncomfortable, but force myself to swing my legs over the edge of the bed. I sit like that for a minute or two, trying to encourage myself to get up. I am not sure what to do when I get up, and that makes my bed seem much more inviting. Even though I wish I could fall into a deep and dream free sleep, I soon find myself walking across the light wooden floor towards my open suitcase. I have not unpacked yet, but have no intention on doing so before later today a couple days from now.

The first thing I see in my suitcase is a Brandy Melville striped t-shirt. I bend down slowly and reach out for the shirt, before slipping it over my head and covering up my bare upper body. 

The living room lies in darkness, and the only light that leads me forward, is the crack in the half closed kitchen door. The light is turned on in the kitchen and I can hear someone mess around. Camille is probably jet-lagged too. I brush a sling of hair behind my ear, and reach out for the door handle, pulling the door wide open. 

Camille is standing in a big t-shirt, with a cup of coffee planted firmly in her right hand as her left forefinger runs over the pages of a book that I have not read. She looks up as she hears me enter the small kitchen. A smile grows on her lips, “Can’t sleep either?” 

I shake my head and look around in the kitchen. Camille moved everything in here yesterday, but I have not seen how it has turned out. All of our kitchen ware is placed nicely on the shelves or in the drawers, and the coffee machine (that she got for 18 years old birthday) is connected to a plug in the wall. 

“Want some coffee?” She asks and nods towards the machine. 

“Did you buy coffee beans?” 

She nods, “I did a little grocery shopping while you were out with Harry yesterday. Speaking of that, how did it go?” She puts down her coffee cup, and makes a dog ear on the page she is currently reading. 

“It went fine.” I admit. 

She raises her eyebrows, wanting more than a simple fine.

I move a bit further into the kitchen and lean against the kitchen counter, grabbing the wooden edge with my right hand. “It was fun,” I start out - not exactly sure about where to begin. I do not want to tell her about me losing my bag, since she won’t trust me with my apartment keys ever again. They are mine, but she will still manage to give me a speech about what responsibility means - even though I am fully aware of what it means.

“So…?” Camille pushed it, “What did you guys do?” 

“Dinner.” I said with a small nod, “Then drinks.” 

Camille sighed and folded her arms across her chest, “Okay, Mel. You’ve got to get more juicy than that!” 

I smiled a little, “Cami… We’re just friends.”