Tucking my chin into the collar of my winter coat, I brave the freezing weather outside, trekking my way back to my apartment. The pitch-black colour of the sky above does nothing to help my emotional mood, stirring up my feelings even further until they’re bubbling right beneath the surface, threatening to overspill, like a bottle of pop being shaken with vigour.
It’s only late afternoon, but with the darkness shrouding itself over the city, it feels much more like night, leaving me disorientated.
Shrugging off my layers in the safe space of my quiet apartment, I head straight into the bathroom, turning up the temperature dial in the shower until it’s almost boiling. While the pipes inside my apartment walls clatter and protest the sudden influx of warm water, I scrape my hair up into a bun, leave my workout clothes in a pile on the tiled floor and step inside the glass enclosure.
The shower in my apartment doesn’t have the world’s best water pressure, but it’s hot which is the main thing, and it doessomething to help ease the kinks and tension I hold in my back and shoulders.
Once I’m washed, dried, and dressed in a clean pair of underwear and an oversized t-shirt, I go to wrap myself up in my fluffy robe, only to stop still when I smell Hudson on the collar. Was it really only this morning that he stood in my kitchen, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and my robe?
I slip my arms into the fluffy sleeves, tie the belt of the robe around my waist tightly and raise the material to my nose, inhaling the familiar citrusy scent of him mixed with the smell of my fabric conditioner.
Maybe I should text him just to make sure he got home safely?
Does texting him so soon make me sound needy?
Frowning to myself, I grab my gym bag, fishing my mobile from the dark depths. If I want to text him, then I should just text him. Simple. It’s notneedy, it’s showing Icare. It’s really not that serious.
Shoving the charging cable into the slot at the bottom, I key in my passcode, bringing up Hudson and I’s latest message thread.
Giselle: hi! Just checking in to make sure you got home safely… missing you x
Jabbing my thumb into the backspace button, I erase the last two words of my text.
For a heartbeat, I bounce around the idea of deleting the whole message, and maybe I would have if a sudden sharp rap on my front door hadn’t made me jump out of my skin and accidentally hit thesendbutton.
Dropping my phone on the kitchen counter, I cross the short distance to my door, squinting through my peephole to see who is standing on the other side.
“Package for you. Came this afternoon,” greets my middle-aged neighbour from across the hall. We aren’tthatfriendly, I hardly know her name, but we’re cordially enough to take in each other’s packages when the opportunity arises.
My smile feels like wax on my face, but I paint it on regardless, reaching out my hand to grab my parcel. “Thanks.”
My redheaded neighbour nods, turning on her heel without another word to me.
Shutting the door behind her, I rip into the box like package, pulling out the pair of ruby red heels I managed to grab online in the last of the season sales.
My bank account could have done without the extra splurge, but I decide it’s worth it when I feel a bubble of serotonin fizz through me.
Plus, I think, discarding the cardboard spacer, slipping my foot into each shoe, and wiggling my toes to get a feel of the fit, I’ve got a sneaky suspicion these heels are going to make my arse look spectacular.
Praying my downstairs neighbour is either out for the evening, or has his noise cancelling headphones on, I take a step forward, and then another, testing out how it feels to walk.
Not too bad.
Maybe a little bit of rubbing on the back of my heel, but that’s nothing a little square of cotton wool and a plaster can’t fix. As soon as I’ve broken them in and worn down the patent material, I’m sure they’ll be perfect.
Lifting my left foot and then my right, I yank the heels off. Maybe I could wear them to my next class, paired with a red all in one bodysuit I’m pretty sure is hidden away in the depths of my wardrobe…
Buzz.
The notification sound pinging on my phone distracts me from my train of thought.
I bet it’s Hudson.
Giddy butterflies taking flight in my stomach, I make a grab for my phone.
1 new message.
Thumbs flying over the keyboard to type in my passcode, I scan the text message, my stomach dropping an inch or so when I realise it isn’t from Hudson.
