“Nope. Looks like you’re staying wet,” A mischievous glint in my eye. “Or you could always wear nothing?” I shrugged at her, accompanied by a smile. Ignoring my comment, she lowered herself, picking up item after item, examining its cleanliness with a disgusted face.
“Why are you holding it like it’s poisoned?” I chuckled.
“I dunno. Scared I might pick something up you’ve wiped your knob on or something.” That caught me off guard, causing laughter to start up again. I swear she was doing it on purpose to cause more pain as I winced.
“You’re disgusting,” my laughter trailing as she continued searching. It wasn’t until she picked up some of my boxer shorts that even I looked confused.
“You’re not serious?” After closer inspection, she placed them over her arm, holding one of my T-shirts close to her chest.
“Needs must, moron.” My eyes followed her as she walked towards the door. I knew she wouldn’t stay, but a part of me wanted her to. I knew that was a line we both weren’t going to cross, so playing with her in the meantime was going to have to be amusement enough.
“Oh, come on, Misfit! You saw me all battered up, we’re past modesty, aren’t we?”
Her voice echoed from the hall as a smile played on my lips. “No. We’re not.”
I scoffed, oddly enjoying myself in her presence. You never know, I may have just put the last nail in my coffin and invited a crazed killer to top me off while I slept. But that just filled me with an even bigger thrill than regret.
I drifted into my thoughts as I waited for her to return, staring aimlessly at the ceiling, listening to the harsh rain battering against the window. After a moment, she re-entered the bedroom, an air of awkwardness about her now, compared to her usual confident stance. She seemed nervous.
Did I make her feel nervous? Part of me was wondering if she even knew what being nervous was. I watched her as she moved to the other side of the bed, sitting down carefully, as if unsure of what the rules were now. A fleeting thought entered my mind of how adorable she looked in my clothes.
We didn’t speak for a few moments. Just lay there, the space between us charged and strange.
“You really want me to stay?” she said, like she couldn’t quite believe it. I glanced sideways at her, my voice quieter this time.
“Yeah,” my answer fell from my lips quicker than I imagined they would. Her eyes lingered on me for a second before pulling them away. She lowered herself, grabbing for her jacket, her hand fumbling into her pocket as she pulled out her phone. I watched her thumb through a few screens, the pale glow of the device lighting up her face. Settling on a name, ‘Seffy’, she hesitated for just a second before hitting the call button and bringing it to her ear.
“Hey, Sef, yeah, it’s me,” she said, tone already on edge.
I couldn’t hear much, just a faint voice on the other end, sharp and female. Not yelling but not exactly thrilled either.
“Uh, I’m not coming back tonight,” Misfit continued, shifting slightly on the bed. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” A pause. The voice on the other end rose a little, sharper now, like a warning bell.
“No … I’m not lying. Jesus, calm down.” Misfit rolled her eyes and let out a sigh that carried years of exhaustion.
“No! Look, I’m fine, okay? I’ll be back tomorrow.”
And then she hung up. She didn’t move for a second, her hand still gripping the phone a little too tightly. Her jaw was tight, like she was fighting the urge to throw it against the wall.
“Seffy?” I asked after a beat, careful not to sound like I was prying.
“That your parole officer?” She gave me a side-eye so sharp it could’ve sliced through bone.
“Funny.”
I raised my hands in mock surrender, “couldn’t help it.”
“She’s my…. Seffy,” she said, slipping the phone back into her pocket.
“You call your mum by her first name?” Confusion in my tone.
“Not my mum, don’t have one of those.”
“She take you in after juvie?” I asked.
Misfit shook her head. “No. Before. I was dumped in a care home when I was a baby. Parents bailed. Grew up there; Seffy showed up a couple of months before Juvie. I guess she decided I was… I dunno, worth saving or something.” Her voice had that hard edge again, the one she used when something was getting too close.
“She sounds like she’s a glutton for punishment then,” I said, trying to diffuse her armour.
