Top Bunk

DAY 18

⌚ 2:46 AM

El reaches blindly towards where her phone is ringing incessantly. She already knows it's her mother calling because she doesnt have any friends who care about her outside of college and if she had any friends, they wouldn't be calling her before seven in the morning because they'd know about El's vendetta against that sort of thing.

When she finally presses IGNORE and the ringing stops, El has every intention to sleep. But that's where it ends: at the intention. Something keeps her from falling back asleep. El would like to think she's restless because the thoughts of her mother are like caffeine, agitating her, but that's not it.

It's the sound of two people making out that's keeping her awake. Grunts and moans and lips against lips is all she hears and she is disgusted. And maybe a bit bitter. But mostly disgusted. Ew.

"Grace?" her voice comes out hoarse. "Please tell me you aren't making out with someone underage." Amazing. Even at three in the morning, El has a sense of humor.

A giggle. Shushing. "Way to cockblock, El." Grace says, sounding absolutely wrecked. It catches El off-guard. Grace Upland is supposed to be a confident, strong being, not a pile of ragged breaths and whispers.

El squints into the darkness, trying to look for two figures (since she's sure they aren't making out above her; at least Grace has enough courtesy not to rock the entire bunk). "Who's that?" she asks.

El spots them (Grace and her seductee), a bunch of entangled limbs at the foot of her bed. Okay, so not as much courtesy as she thought. Grace's seductee - El made that word up in sixth grade when all her friends started getting boyfriends; even then she was a bitter little ray of sunshine - is built, and with cropped hair so it is a man, El assumes. Her head wraps around this. There are only three possibilities of who he could be, since obciously, Luke and Jason are out of the picture. Isaac, but Grace would never. Will, slightly more likely, but El doubts it. Finn. Dread floods into El's chest.

It could be that cute boy who delivers the meat and vegetables every other day, El tries to reassure herself. Very cute. Very unlikely. Fuck.

"Who's that?" she repeats, now more awake.

More giggling. Sloppy kisses. "C'mon, El, don't be a spoilsport." Grace says, presumably against his lips.

"Who even says that?" Irritation starts to bubble in El's throat. She feels like she deserves to at least know who the hell her cabinmate is making out with at ungodly hours. Isn't that only fair?

"I do," Grace drawls and El gulps. Her dismay makes way for embarrassment. El feels like she's intruding.

Is she?

No, I'm not, El tells herself. They're intruding on me and my sleep.

Moans. Even more giggling. "Grace, it's too early for this," she says. Her sleep-deprived mind tells her to turn on the lights to end this. So El turns on the lights.

That may not have been the best decision.

She almost turns the lights off again, but she is frozen in horror at the sight of a half-naked Grace slithering around a shirtless Finn. El shudders.

Finn pulls away from their kiss, a deep blush blooming on his cheeks (at least he has the decency to look embarrassed). "G-good morning."

Are you fucking kidding me? El wants to say - no, shriek. She wants to freak out. She wants to lose her goddamn marbles. "Good morning," is what she does say, and coldly, at that.

Grace sucks on Finn's neck - just like El did yesterday - not paying attention to what's happening. El tries to keep her eyes off where Grace is pressed against Finn, where pale curves meld into tan, sharp edges. She bows her head, using her hair to shield the heat coming up her neck.