Too close for comfort

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of someone knocking.

Not on my door.

On the wall.

Three slow knocks.

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling.

No.

I turned over and pulled my blanket higher.

Another three knocks came.

I grabbed my phone from the bedside table.

7:12 a.m.

I sat up.

Who had the energy to be irritating before eight in the morning?

My phone buzzed.

Ethan: You awake?

I stared at the message.

Me: I am now.

Ethan: Good.

Me: That was not a thank you.

A few seconds later:

Ethan: Do you have coffee?

I blinked.

Me: You woke me up for coffee?

Ethan: Important emergency.

Me: Go to a café.

Ethan: Too far.

I looked toward the wall.

The café downstairs was literally across the street.

I typed:

Me: You are lazy.

Ethan: And yet you’re still replying.

I hated that he had a point.

I got out of bed and walked into the kitchen.

Most of my things were still packed, but I had found the coffee the night before.

Unfortunately.

I made one cup for myself.

Only one.

Then there was a knock on my front door.

I froze.

Surely not.

I opened it.

Ethan stood there in grey sweatpants and a black T-shirt, his hair messy like he had just rolled out of bed.

“Morning,” he said.

I looked at him.

“You cannot be serious.”

His eyes moved past me toward the kitchen.

“I smell coffee.”

“That is because I made coffee.”

“For us?”

“For me.”

He placed one hand over his chest.

“That hurts.”

“You’ll survive.”

He smiled.

“Probably.”

I should have closed the door.

Instead, I stepped aside.

“Five minutes.”

He walked in like he had been invited properly.

“This place looks different.”

“Because I live here now.”

“Very observant.”

I gave him a look.

He sat on one of the unopened boxes near the kitchen while I made another cup.

“This is the last time,” I said.

“Sure.”

“I mean it.”

“Absolutely.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“Not even a little.”

I handed him the cup.

“Ungrateful.”

He took a sip.

Then his expression changed.

“This is actually good.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know.”

“Bad coffee?”

He shrugged.

“You looked like a tea person.”

I frowned.

“What does a tea person look like?”

He looked me up and down.

“Like you.”

I stared at him.

“That makes no sense.”

“It does to me.”

I shook my head and took a sip from my own cup.

For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.

It was strangely comfortable.

Too comfortable.

“So,” he said, “you ready for class?”

“No.”

“Good.”

I looked at him.

“Good?”

“Means I’m not the only one.”

“You don’t look worried.”

“I’m very good at pretending.”

That surprised me.

I had assumed Ethan was one of those people who moved through life without thinking too much about anything.

Apparently not.

Before I could respond, his phone buzzed.

He looked at the screen.

His expression changed almost immediately.

Not dramatically.

Just enough for me to notice.

“You okay?” I asked.

He locked the phone.

“Yeah.”

That was clearly a lie.

But I didn’t know him well enough to ask.

Not yet.

He stood.

“Thanks for the coffee.”

“You’re washing the cup.”

He looked offended.

“I’m a guest.”

“You invited yourself.”

“Fair.”

He washed it.

I smiled.

Maybe he wasn’t completely terrible.

We left the apartment building ten minutes later and walked toward campus together.

I hadn’t planned on it.

He had simply waited while I locked my door.

“Are you following me?” I asked.

“We have the same class.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

He grinned.

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“And you avoid answering them.”

“Maybe that’s why we get along.”

“We do not get along.”

“Sure.”

By the time we reached campus, Nina was standing outside the lecture hall.

The second she saw us together, her eyes widened.

No.

Absolutely not.

She looked at me.

Then Ethan.

Then back at me.

Her mouth opened.

I pointed at her.

“Don’t.”

She smiled slowly.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to.”

“I was thinking it.”

“That’s worse.”

Ethan laughed beside me.

Nina looked far too pleased with herself.

“I’ll see you inside,” Ethan said.

Then he walked away.

The second he was gone, Nina grabbed my arm.

“You walked to class together?”

“He lives next door.”

“That does not answer my question.”

I stared at her.

She smiled.

I hated everyone.

“Nothing happened,” I said.

“Yet.”

“Nina.”

She raised both hands.

“I’m quiet.”

She was not quiet.

She followed me into class, still smiling.

And somehow, when I sat down, my eyes found Ethan across the room.

He was already looking at me.

He smiled.

I looked away immediately.

This apartment was becoming a problem.