The next door along opened a crack, and the noisyresident popped her head out. Dark hair spilled from beneath the black hooded sweatshirt she’d drawn up tight. With red-rimmed eyes and smudged makeup, she glanced in both directions, then scowled at us, as if we were the ones making all the racket.
Without a word, she disappeared back inside, and the door slammed shut.
“Nice to meet you, too,” I said to the closed door.
Jeremy laughed, and I looped my arm through his. “Lead the way!”
My eyes flutteredopen to the blinking red digits of the alarm clock on the bedside table.02:16.
I reached for a glass of water that wasn’t there. Disoriented, I swung my legs out of bed, relaxing as my bare feet settled on the frayed carpet of my dorm room.
My pulse spiked as I caught a whiff of smoke. I flicked on the lamp and put on my glasses, squinting in the harsh glare from the cheap bulb. Wearing my faded pink robe, I shuffled out into the long corridor of closed doors.
A faint metallic rattling came from the direction of the floor’s shared kitchenette; a cramped utilitarian space nestled in a nook at the end of the hallway. Hugging my robe around myself, I ventured closer to the source of the smell and peered into the smoky haze.
There she stood — my noisy next-door neighbour.
“Fucking fuck,” she said, shaking one hand andjabbing a butter knife into the smoking toaster with the other.
“Whoa! What are you doing? You’ll electrocute yourself.”
She jumped, and the butter knife dropped into the toaster, which fizzed with sparks.
“Jesus Christ!” She clutched her chest and glared at me. “Why did you creep up on me like that?”
I leaned over her, pulling the toaster’s plug from the socket.
“I didn’t creep up on you. I smelt smoke, so…” I turned the toaster upside down and shook out the charred bread. “A little overdone?” I flashed her a half-smile, which she didn’t return.
I held out the retrieved butter knife, but instead of taking it, she folded her arms and stared at me with such intensity I thought she might burnme.
That’s when I noticed her eyes. Beyond the heavy makeup were the darkest irises I’d ever seen, almost as black as the bread she’d cremated. I held her cold gaze until it became uncomfortable, then glanced down, shuffling my feet and wishing they were encased in anything other than my scruffy pink bunny slippers.
When I dared to look up again, her eyes were still fixed on me. Even though I wasn’t cold, I shivered and rubbed my arms, gooseflesh prickling under my robe.
“Now that I’ve saved you from electrocuting yourself and burning the halls down, I’ll be getting back to bed.”
As I turned to leave, she spoke in a crisp, refined accent, which seemed at odds with her vampy appearance.
“I suppose I should say thank you. I wasn’t actually trying to burn the miserable place down on the first night. I was hungry.”
She dropped her arms from her chest, and in the dingy yellow light her expression softened.
“Do you want some toast?” A wry smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “I’ve got jam. It’s from Fortnum & Mason’s,” she added, as if that would be the clincher.
I pushed my glasses up my nose and returned her smile. “Are you asking because you still want toast, but you don’t know how to make it without burning it?”
The weird tension before seemed to defuse and she grinned, fluttering her long eyelashes, thick with mascara.
“Okay, well I think you need to turn the heat down a bit.” I twisted the toaster’s dial, and she stepped closer, peering over my shoulder.
“Oh, is that what the knob’s for? I thought that’s what made it pop up.”
She stood so close I could smell her fruity shampoo; I cleared my throat. “Do you have more bread?”
I watched as she reached into one of the beige melamine cupboards, her hoodie riding up to reveal her milky-white midriff. She retrieved a loaf of pre-sliced bread.My loaf of pre-sliced bread.
I sighed. “I guess if you’re providing the posh jam, the least I can do is provide the bread.”
