“Listen, I think it’s only fair that if you get to keep the bed, I at least get the nice blanket. Please?”
I tug even harder this time, determined to make this piece of fabric mine.
Valentina reaches down to grab the hem of the blanket, now hanging off the bed, startling me. I take a few steps back as I watch her quickly roll across the bed, bring the blanket with her, and turn herself into a human burrito.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Val?” I shout. “How old are you?”
“I’m twenty-five. How about you?” She mumbles underneath several layers of cotton.
“More like three.” I scoff, kneeling on the bed to tug at the blanket some more. “You’re being so immature!”
“Look who’s talking,” she yells back.
“I just thought it would be fair to give me the blanket since you get the bed. Is that so far-fetched?”
Silence.
“Ugh, whatever.” I push Valentina, rolling her deeper into the covers. “Keep it, you child. See if I care.”
I crawl off the bed and shake myself off. The fleece blanket isn’t that bad anyways. It’s certainly better than whatever sandpaper blanket Sofia placed on the cot, so I’ll be fine. She can keep her stupid blanket. I walk back over to the dresser to keep unpacking and to distract myself from the brat I’ve been forced to room with for the week. She thinks she’s so charming and funny. I scoff again, and I start to wonder if I will make it out of this alive. I guess it doesn’t matter as long as I win the investment for La Mariposa.
“Are you folding your underwear?”
I snap my head around to see that she has unfurled herself from the burrito of immaturity and is now seated, leaning against the back wall for support and scrolling her phone.
“So what if I am?” I snap.
“It just seems a little…much. You’re very tidy.”
“Well, one of us has to be,” I grumble.
She chuckles, gazing up from her phone and staring at me. I don’t know why, but it makes my ears hot. That damn smile. I guess all those awkward teenage years in braces paid off.
“I bet you have a different designer underwear for each day of the week, too, huh?”
I look down at my lacy white underwear. Parts of the lace have come undone, leaving little gaps. These panties are so damn old, the tag has completely worn off.
“I do not. Mind your business, okay? We can’t all be so…free-spirited like you,” I say, rolling my eyes.
I can hear Valentina chuckle to herself as I turn around to continue folding my underwear. Why do I feel so lightheaded? It’s as if there’s an emptiness in my stomach. Butterflies? Maybe the thought of Valentina as a burrito is making me hungry. Yeah, that might be the one. So what if I organize my underwear? It just means it’s one less thing for me to think about throughout my day. I don’t wake up in the morning trying to fish through the drawer and find the perfect pair to wear. And since no one sees them anyways, why does it matter what I do with them? She makes me so mad I could just—
“Neat book.”
I turn around to see Valentina standing a mere few inches away from me. I didn’t even hear her get up. I was too distracted with my thoughts about how much she sucks. I use my peripherals to glance behind me and spot El Libro Sagrado sitting on the dresser. I feel a sense of panic, but I can’t move. I’m fixated on Valentina’s eyes, staring back at me with curiosity and amusement. As if she’s a tomb raider staring at an ancient artifact she’s been looking for her entire career. I gulp, but my throat is dry. She pulls in closer, both of her hands on the dresser, trapping me in between. I smell her perfume again. The vanilla is practically hypnotic. I don’t know what’s happening right now, but I don’t want it to end for some strange reason. I look back up at her. She’s smiling slightly. Almost slyly. As if she knows exactly what she’s doing. I hold my breath, glancing down at her lips. Her lips.Fuck.She pulls in even closer, reaching one hand behind me. Then she slowly pulls away from me, revealing a phone charger in her hand.
“Phone’s going to die.” She chuckles.
It feels like someone dumped freezing-cold water onto my body. The jolt is almost disorienting.
“Right. Your phone.” I cough.
She lingers momentarily, licks her lips once, grins, and returns to the bed.
I’m frozen. I can’t even move right now. I feel so ridiculous, but I can’t have imagined that whole thing, right? Maybe I did.
“Don’t forget, Friday comes after Thursday when you’re organizing your thongs.” She laughs.
“You’re such a—”
