THEN AGAIN • TC ✔️

13. Spine

Clem closes the door quietly behind her. It clicks into place, and she ties her robe around her waist. Pushes her hair back from her face and heads to the bathroom, hoping she won't wake up Timmy. Once she's inside, she washes her face. Brushes her teeth, wipes her own come from the insides of her thighs. She wants to put the tissues in the toilet but if she does, the flush might disturb Timmy. (If she doesn't, Nick might think she doesn't know how to flush the toilet.)

But, ultimately, she values Timmy's sleep more than Nick's opinions, so she drops the tissues in and closes the toilet lid. Sits on it for a minute, thinking.

(Because someone she barely even knows just made her come twice. She faked the third time, in all honesty, because it was getting a bit much and she just wanted it over with.

But like.

She knows Nick, but she doesn't know him. They've been talking for almost a month straight, but Clem is almost certain that no matter how much time she spends with him, she will never get past surface level. Not like with Timmy. Because it was only a matter of days into Timmy moving in that she found out he loves apples but hates oranges, only a matter of weeks before she discovered that he stays on the right side of the bed and always wears socks when sleeping.)

Clem knows she should think about getting back. Knows that Nick is probably wondering where she is - that, or he's fast asleep. Clem hopes he doesn't snore.

She washes her hands. Checks her face in the dim lighting, and she looks kind of nice. A bit sweaty, maybe, but that could easily be mistaken for a post-sex glow. Clem is about to go back to her own room when she sees Timmy's door open.

She frowns. Ventures further along the corridor and finds him sitting by the window with a glass of water. Clem traipses across the room, pulling her robe tighter around her.

"You okay?" she asks, standing a couple of metres behind him. Timmy jolts a little. Turns to look at her, his face all slim-cut shadows in the light of the streetlamps. He offers her a perfunctory smile. Shrugs. "What're you doing up? You're usually out like a log," she laughs softly.

Timmy shrugs again. "Couldn't sleep," he says, simply.

"Oh."

A token smile, and Clem wonders if he knows.

(And of course he knows. He has to know, only she kind of hopes that he doesn't. Kind of hopes that they'll never talk about this, kind of hopes that he realises she's only getting Nick to fuck her because Timmy never will. (Because Timmy is nice and kind and sensible, and he basically always knows what he's doing and he would never make a rash decision like that. He's not even into her, so she has to broaden her horizons a little.) But Timmy probably doesn't realise that and it's probably best that it stays that way.)

She wonders if he can smell sex on her, wonders if her deodorant is enough to mask it, but who is she kidding? Sex smells heavy, thick, and there's no doubt that he knows. No doubt at all.

"Did we keep you up?" she asks, quietly. Spins the cord of her robe around two of her fingers. Timmy hesitates before answering.

"No," he replies uncertainly. His lips twitch at the corner and he looks back out of the window. "I was already up."

Clem is almost certain it's a lie but she nods and stands there for a moment. Watches the snow outside, watches it cling to the pavement, the top of the lamppost. It won't settle, but it's pretty just to look at.

"Good lasagne," Timmy says then. Tucks his knees under his hoodie, bringing them to his chest. Clem laughs at the sight of him, at the comment.

"I'm glad," she replies. Aches to reach out and brush Timmy's hair away from where it's falling in his face. He does so himself, pushing it away with his shoulder. Clem breathes in and out, heavily. Wants to say something else, but decides against it. "Well...good night, then," she tells him. Timmy nods wordlessly. Sends her an actual smile over his shoulder and turns back to the window, the bumps of his spine visible through the hoodie stretched tight over his back.