The door to my room is just a few feet away from the bathroom's entrance. I want to make a dignified walk in my towel, but I hurry, instead, and slam the door behind me.
In the dim morning light of my room, shades drawn and my skin still burning with anger, I dress in silence. My hair takes a while to towel-dry to damp. I squeeze my fingers between my thick locks, scrunching them into waves as an unrelated countdown commences in my head.
I've been living here for just six days. That's it. Not even a full week and he's already seen me naked.
Nice tits, by the way.
I can't believe he said that. He's treating the whole thing like a big joke and I'm the punch line. I'm tempted to storm back out there and give him a piece of my mind, draw a line in the sand, and show him I'm not going to be messed with. But I know better than to face his mischievous grin when rage is coursing through my veins. I'm borderline homicidal at the moment and stabbing him in the eye is probably not the best way to handle this.
I sit on my bed and pull my laptop closer to check my emails. The last one is from my sister, Cassandra. It's just another one of the random health articles she sends me every once in a while. The ones with titles like, Ten Ways To Know If You're Getting Enough Sleep, and Three Symptoms You Should Never Ignore.
I used to find these emails annoying, but now? They're like the tiniest of threads still holding us together. I'm closest to my younger sister, Lola. But as the oldest, Cassandra has always been very maternal and overprotective. After she found out I'd had sex for the first time, she practically dragged me to get tested and have the birth control implant. She told me that as a nurse at a parenthood clinic, she'd seen more STDs and unwanted pregnancies than she ever cared to admit.
It was an uncomfortable experience for me, going to that clinic. But I understood why it was necessary. Having my sister there with me somehow made it bearable. Even though I had used a condom, it was still a deep relief when my tests came back clean. I'm reminded of the implant whenever I run my fingers over the right spot on my arm. I don't regret getting it, I hardly ever remember it's there, and it does beat having to take a pill every day, but whatever hormones it distributes to my body seem like a wasted effort now.
Just as I go to close the laptop, a ping alerts me to a new email. The simplest of glances at the sender's name makes my blood run cold. It's from him. The email is from my ex--Andrew. I should delete it. I've promised myself I would not read any other messages or emails from him. But, as though it has a life of its own, my hand moves the cursor and clicks open.
For the last time...it wasn't me, Julia. I didn't do it. And why did you block my number? I need to see you.
I shut my laptop, blood rushing to my ears and making my head hurt. The same lie, repeated a thousand times, wouldn't make a dent in the truth. It was him. He knows it. I know it. Everyone knows it. Yet he keeps trying to find a loophole, some alternative that would render him blameless instead of owning up to what he did.
I have to make the effort of taking deep breaths, determined not to allow this situation to control my emotions. The time will come when I will face this asshole. But right now I'm trying to build my present, not sift through my past. I'm so goddamn sick of feeling like a victim.
My line of sight lifts to my closed door. Standing up, I straighten my posture and march out of my bedroom, down the hall, and into the kitchen. I'm ready to look Giles in the eyes. Because big fucking deal, right? He saw me naked. Well, you're welcome, asshole. Hope you got a nice long look, because it's all you'll ever get.
But Giles isn't in the kitchen.
I keep myself cool and collected, preparing my own breakfast and expecting him to enter the room at any moment. He doesn't. Ava does, though.
She walks in from the hall, half dragging her feet along the floor, still clinging to sleep.
With effort, I pull a smile to my lips. "Wow. I was starting to wonder if you even really lived here."
She gives me a halfhearted smile, reaching into the cabinet for instant oatmeal. "I know, I know. I'm never around. I'm sorry. It's been a crazy week. I'm trying to get as many hours in now that finals are over. I barely have time to breathe."
"No worries," I say with a shrug.
She watches me for a few seconds, her expression softening. "I feel kind of guilty."
"Why?"
"I mean, we're the only two girls here and I've just left you out in the cold."
"I'm a big girl."
Again, she eyes me with intense curiosity.
"Are you and Giles getting along? Has he serenaded you yet?"
"Serenaded me?"
She raises an eyebrow. "It was his lame way of seducing girls when we were in high school. He'd sing to them. He's got a pretty good voice, actually."
I laugh, unable to imagine Giles singing. "I've been spared of any serenades, thankfully. And we have yet to murder each other, so I guess it could be worse."
"Don't let him get to you. He likes to play with boundaries."
Play with boundaries? This phrase catches my interest, but I mask this by rifling through one of the kitchen drawers.
"Do you like him?" Ava asks. I tilt my head as though not understanding her meaning and she amends her question. "Are you two screwing already?"
"What? No." My face crinkles in disgust a bit too dramatically. "No way. He's an asshole. I mean, no offense because he's your cousin and all. But a huge, huge asshole."
Ava laughs and I somehow know it's not at what I've said but at how I said it. My own reaction brings warmth to my face.
"He's not really that bad. But yeah, don't get too comfortable, either."
Her friendliness falls short of bridging the awkwardness of us still being strangers. Despite being roommates, for the past week I've seen her maybe three times, always headed out of the door.
"And...your mom?" I ask, taking my plate of food to the table as she follows close behind with her own.
I'm not sure how to ask, but I know I should. It's not something I should ignore; it's the giant elephant hanging off her shoulders.
Ava settles in her seat across from me, avoiding my eyes for a moment. "She's, uh, she's okay. Still not good, but not worse."
I nod, noting her vagueness as a reluctance to speak on the subject. My stomach ties in knots as I eat my breakfast, unable to control where my thoughts go. An awful part of me wonders if her mother is even really sick. I know this is a horrible thing to think, but when someone you barely know has shown a proclivity to being untruthful, it casts a shadow of doubt over her as a whole. One lie has the power to taint a thousand truths.
Don't get me wrong. I like Ava, I really do. She's friendly and welcoming, and my gut tells me her intentions are good. My conscience, on the other hand, weighs heavy with a warning to not get too close.
The people you meet aren't simply good or bad. There's a whole lot of gray; layers upon layers that sometimes don't even match each other.
"Did you invite anyone to the party tonight?" she asks, after a lull.