The last box

The box dug into my palms, its corners biting through cheap cardboard as I hauled it up the narrow flight of stairs. My arms trembled with the effort, but it wasn't just the weight, it was the exhaustion of the whole day, the whole move, and the whole new beginning I wasn't sure I was ready for.

"Almost there," Mariah puffed behind me, her voice was half encouraging, half mocking. She was balancing a stack of kitchen pans like a circus act. Her braids stuck to her forehead with sweat, and her T-shirt was darkened with damp patches.

I laughed under my breath, more out of habit than humor. My own T-shirt was clinging to me like a second skin, the August heat squeezing the last ounce of energy from my body.

The hallway smelled faintly of paint and stale pizza, the kind of mix that clung to student housing like an unshakable curse. My new apartment, tiny, overpriced, off-campus, sat at the very end. It wasn't much, but it was mine. No more dorms with girls crying through walls at three in the morning, no more pretending to be okay with constant company, and no more strangers walking in without knocking. 

At least, that was the hope.

We dropped the boxes in the living room with twin groans. The place was still half-empty, echoing with every step. Beige carpet. Off-white walls. A little balcony with a view of the parking lot. It wasn't glamorous, but for the first time in years, the silence belonged to me.

Mariah flopped onto the sagging couch I'd rescued from F******k Marketplace and fanned herself with a takeout menu, then threw me a look. "You happy now, hermit? No one around to bother you."

I rolled my eyes. "Exactly how I like it," and I meant it. The idea of solitude had been the carrot dangling in front of me all summer.

Mariah tilted her head. "You'll be crawling back to the noise in two weeks. Calling me, whining that it's too quiet, lonely, and too much space for your overthinking brain."

I smirked, crouching to tear the tape off another box. "I'll be fine."

Mariah didn't argue. She just shook her head with a smile. I grabbed the last box and pushed back out into the stairwell. My arms were already shaking, but I told myself it was the final trip. One last climb and I'd be settled.

I paused.

 Halfway down the hall was a shirtless man leaning against a doorframe with earbuds in and his phone in one hand, he was impossible to miss. Sweat glistened across his chest, and his basketball shorts hung low on his hips. His head was tilted slightly, lips moving like he was rapping under his breath.

 I just... froze.

Not because I hadn't seen hot guys before. Campus was full of them, protein shakes and egos, the whole lot. But something about him felt different... Effortless even. Like he wasn't trying to be seen, but the universe made sure you noticed anyway.

I turned too fast, nearly losing my grip on the box. My pulse tripped over itself, loud and useless. The cardboard scraped my forearm, and I hissed under my breath, stumbling the last few steps to my door.

 I didn't dare look back.

Didn't need to. I could feel his eyes, or maybe I just wanted to believe he'd noticed me too.

I dropped the box inside, pressing my palm to my chest as I'd just sprinted.

Mariah peeked up from the couch, brow arched. "What's with you?"

"Nothing," I said too fast. "Just... last box."

She smirked, clearly unconvinced. "You look like you saw a ghost- or.... a dick. Which was it?"

"Neither," I muttered, crouching to open the box.

I busied myself with slicing the tape off the box, stacking cookbooks into neat piles I didn't have a shelf for yet. 

Mariah let out an exaggerated groan and fanned herself with the menu again. "It's too damn hot in here. My soul is melting." She kicked off her sneakers, legs dangling over the arm of the couch. "And I'm starving. If I don't eat soon, I'm going to chew through one of your precious cookbooks."

I laughed, despite myself, and shook my head. "Go shower. I'll order us something."

Her eyes lit up like I'd offered her a spa weekend. "Darling! I knew I kept you around for a reason." She hopped up, already stripping off her T-shirt as she padded toward the bathroom.

I watched her go, rolling my eyes at her dramatics but smiling all the same. Mariah was... one of a kind. The kind of person who could make a room feel lighter just by stepping inside. She was loud where I was quiet, reckless where I was careful, but she understood me in a way most people never tried to. She got that my social battery ran out fast, and sometimes I disappeared into myself without warning. She didn't judge me for it. She just... let me be. That was the gift of Mariah.

The shower sputtered to life a moment later. I sighed and peeled off my sweat-soaked T-shirt, dropping it on the couch. The air conditioner was still dead, the landlord promising it would be fixed before the week was out. Until then, I'd be living in a sauna.

Down to my lace bra and shorts, I knelt in front of the last open box, pulling out the neat stack of cookware I couldn't survive without. The metal clinked softly as I lined everything up, arranging and rearranging until it felt right. 

I grabbed my phone and queued up BTS songs, turning the volume just high enough to drown out the muffled singing drifting from the shower. The beat filled the space, giving me something to move with as I worked.

I placed the last stack of books on the bedside table when I remembered the takeout. If I didn't order now, Mariah would kill me. A few taps later, confirmation blinked on my phone screen, and I tucked it away, satisfied. One less thing spinning in my head.

I was so absorbed in folding sweaters into neat, color-coded rows that I almost didn't hear Mariah's footsteps padding out of the bathroom. She hummed, towel-drying her hair, when a sudden knock rattled the door.

Mariah's head snapped up, eyes sparkling like trouble. "Ooo, your neighbors are so nice. Did they bring the pies already?" She cackled before I could answer, padding straight for the knob.

"Mariah, wait..." I started suddenly feeling a pit in my stomach, though I couldn't name why. It wasn't dread exactly, but it was enough to make my pulse trip over itself as I turned toward the door. She pulled it open, grin first.