𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑| Topper Thornton| John B Routledge

11| TO PRETENDING WE DONT KNOW EACH OTHER EXIST AT DUKE

Joey knocked on the door quickly, more like banging her fist it seemed. She'd driven here extremely fast, thanking god her moped didn't die on the way. She hit the door again, harshly rubbing at the dirt that dried on her skin. Her chest heaved, her heart was racing, if she was completely alone she'd have cried. But then the dream of a life time opened the door. "Topper."

"What the hell?" he looked at her oddly, eyes looking over the mud on her legs and thighs, her clothes with sand and mud as well. "What happened to you?"

"The water got shut off at my house. Can I use your shower? Please." she was never the type to beg, but this was different. In Joeys head she wasn't just seeing mud all over her, she was seeing any possible disease and parasite lodged in the mud that was currently eating at her skin and would kill her slowly over time. She wasn't just feeling sand in her clothes, she was thinking about how if she inhaled it all the horrible things that could happen to her lungs. It all lead back to diseases. Just like the disease that took her Mother.

"Okay, yeah." Topper took a breath as he pulled the door open. "Why didn't you go to your friends house?"

"They're all worse then I am." Joey said honestly, kicking her shoes off at the door to avoid tracking mud through his house. "They wouldn't understand."

"I'll bring you some clothes. Go, go." he waved her off, watching as she hurried down the hall, feet hitting the floors as she did so. Topper winced as he heard a few things fall. "You good?"

"Knocked over the toilet paper holder!" she called back, making him stiff a laugh. "He's okay!"

Then the shower kicked on, and Topper figured she'd be in there a while. Last time she was here, she'd used his shower upstairs. He had four, apart of him wondered if she'd manage to use all of them before summer was over. Topper went to the kitchen first, flipping on the stove before walking up the stairs to his room.

He wondered which shirt to get her. He sat there a second, analyzing every single outfit he could remember her wearing. After a minute, the ones he could remember were two maroon shirts. After a second of digging, he pulled the maroon tee that he got at a golfing tournament a few months ago. Grasping the sweat pants and a pair of socks, he went back down the stairs. The stove beeped, indicating it had been preheated.