I jumped out of my bed; anger at myself seemed to energize me more than a cup of coffee ever had. I needed a shower - again. Though, I'd only had one last night. All because of a fucking hot dream. I wondered if my gorgeous neighbor would agree to pay my water bills, since it was his fault that I had to take showers so often. Once again I wished this wasn’t just a one-room apartment. I’d have given anything for a door to slam – and maybe kick. That had always given me so much satisfaction in the past – and much to my mother’s chagrin. I stomped into my bathroom. Though bathroom was a pretty big word for what I had. More like bath-closet. Bruno hadn't bothered getting up. He was sprawled out on his back at the foot of my bed, snoring softly, pink tongue peeking out. He wasn’t supposed to be in my bed, but sometimes when I felt particularly lonely it felt good to have hit warm body snuggled against my legs.
I wedged myself into the gap between the sink and the toilet – the center of my bathcloset and thrust the folding door shut. I didn’t give a satisfactory bam. Instead a tear ripped across the middle of the cardboard where mold had eaten the lamination away.
Fucking great. I propped my hip up against the sink, despite its groan of protest. That would be the icing on the cake if that stupid thing came off the wall. I glared at the rip in the folding door. I couldn’t afford a new one. I guessed tape would have to do for now. I dropped my clothes on the green PVC floor and stepped into the small shower cubicle. Big word there again. It was pretty much just a drain sandwiched between two tiled walls. The shower curtain had gone the way of all flesh a couple of weeks ago. I turned the shower on and pressed against the cold wall when a few drops of scalding water dripped from the shower head. The pipes creaked and then a burst of cold water poured down on me. I gasped as my skin erupted in goose bumps. Two people wouldn't fit into this shower cubicle. Not that I had anybody I wanted to share a shower with. Though, I wouldn't mind sharing it with Blond Guy. That would probably be my next hot dream…
I turned the water off and rubbed a damp towel over my head, trying to get the images of my neighbor out of my head. I'd never obsessed over someone like this. Well, at least not in such a sexual way. I’d been pining over a guy pretty much all through high school, but back then my imagination had mostly ended at kissing or an abstract romantic first time. Of course, nothing had ever happened with that guy. Just like nothing was ever going to happen with my neighbor.
Maybe it was time for me to do something about my single status. All those years of waiting for Mr. Right, for true love, had been a waste of time. The sexual frustration was apparently driving me nuts. I stepped out of the cubicle when I heard an insistent knocking. Stumbling out of the bath closet, I wrapped the towel around my body and clamped my arms down to make sure it stayed in place.
It wasn’t even 9 yet. Nobody ever bothered me this early. Maybe it was Blond Guy. Maybe he'd noticed me watching them having sex last night.
I stopped with my hand on the door handle, frozen. God, what if it was him? I'd die of embarrassment.
Bruno stood beside me, yelping excitedly. He scratched the old wood with his claws, leaving more marks beside the ones he’d inflicted in the last few months. If I ever moved out of this hellhole, my landlord would probably make me pay for a new door – or at least a new paint job.
With a shaky hand, I pushed the handle down and opened my door. I stifled a sigh of relief when I found Amy standing in front of me. She was grinning widely. Her copper hair stuck out from her head in two side pigtails with pink ribbons. “Okay.” I drew the word out, then I raised my eyebrows. “Have you and Jared been up to something kinky?”
Amy was the only one I could talk to like that. Somehow she brought out my bolder side. Before moving to New York, I didn’t know I had one. I still didn’t most of the time.
It wasn’t really unusual that she had her hair up in some weird hairdo, but she usually didn’t go for the schoolgirl look.
She poked her tongue out at me and pushed past me. She was small, several inches smaller than me. But I was 5’8 so most girls were smaller than me, and even some men. If I lowered my standards and stopped looking for a man who was taller than me, maybe then I’d have more luck in the men department.
“I’d be wearing knee socks and a pleated skirt if that were the case, just so you know,” she said with a grin, flashing her tongue piercing at me.
“TMI,” I said quickly. I really didn’t need that image in my head. I was still busy trying to get rid of what I saw yesterday. “It’s not even nine. What the hell are you doing here so early? And shouldn’t you be at work?” I closed the door and only now noticed that she was holding two cups in her hands. I tried to catch the scent of roasted beans but got nothing.