Dorm Room 210 [Original]

Dorm Room 210: Phones Hold Value

I nod, sniffling. "Okay."

A smile slowly makes its way pass the serious exterior, comforting me. "This is all Noah's fault anyway."

Nicole scoffs next to me. "Yeah, I second that."

"I third that," Noah affirms. I admit, I forgot he was still in the room. "I shouldn't have told you to lie in the first place. I'm sorry."

I'm not sure what to say, so I stay quiet and nod instead. 

No one voices anything else, and I appreciate the silence. With the caresses, it makes everything within me relax to the point of closing my eyes and slipping out.

***

It seems like today is National Apology Day. 

Never have I ever wanted to feel this way when I stand at the door of Stacy's house; hands tuck in the back jeans, clenching my phone until the edges dig into my palms. The wind bites into the bare skin of my neck, reminding me of time I have wasted, but I'm too nervous to knock on the door, let alone ring the door bell. Over again my knuckles graze the peeling white door, and hope the soft, barely-there sound captures Stacy's sensitive hearing. Two minutes go by after that.

The wind gets cruel and I bite my lip at the tornado going inside my head. Face it or walk away. My arms fold around my torso. My vision blurs up. I hold my breath and tap four quick times, loud enough to scrape my knuckles and leave a red tint afterwards.

Stacy opens the door, but she doesn't say anything as she rushes me inside and throws a blanket around my shoulders. A glimpse of my mum and dad's portrait beside the wooden stand of coats tenses up my arms. My throat dries up as Stacy's voice drips in warmth, despite the harsh curses towards the weather.

"That's Melbourne for you," I say, risking to look up as she shuts the door behind us.

"Did you catch the bus here?"

"Taxi."

She nods and walks out of the small hallway and into another room, where the lounge and kitchen are together. Her floral couch is covered in blankets and pillows of different fabrics, while re-runs of F.R.I.E.N.D.S hums in the background. There're two mugs on the stained coffee table; one with a pug face, and another of a painted green garden. I only assume the green garden mug is mine.

Stacy rounds from the kitchen carrying two plates of sandwiches. She smiles and passes me one. "Left over chicken from last night's," she says. "I'm glad I listened to my gut to buy the bag. I've got mashed potato in the microwave, too. Help yourself."

I nod, and gingerly hold the plate in one hand while keeping a firm grip on the blanket. "How long were you waiting?"

"Not long." She places her plate on the coffee table and fix the blonde strains falling from her bun. Her tracksuit pants matched the colour of her grey jumper, and I make a funny face. Stacy never matches her clothes.

She gets comfy on one side of the couch and pulls the blanket over her. "Get comfy. If you need to warm up your hot chocolate I would do it now. Rachel and Phoebe are trying to distract Ross from the window."

It's still warm to the touch.

I silently eat my sandwich, glancing every so often at Stacy as she scrolls through her phone. She's acting like her usual self, as if last week never happened. I wonder if the argument haunts her like it has me. Has her finger hovered over my name like I have for her? She yawns, and rubs the dark circles under her eyes.

"I'm struggling with school."

Her head takes a sharp right to where I sit on the opposite side of the couch. "Are you not getting your assignments in on time?"