Roommates

Towel

The air smelled like new paint, floor wax, and too much potential. Malia tugged her suitcase down the long, echoing dorm hallway, her hoodie sleeves half-covering her hands as she glanced nervously at the door numbers.

Room 318. That was hers. Well, hers and... someone else's.

She tried not to overthink it. Plenty of freshmen had random roommates. Peder said half the fun was in the surprise—"unless your roommate is a mouth-breather or one of those weird toe-spreaders," he'd texted dramatically last night. Classic Peder.

Malia's hand trembled slightly as she slid her keycard. The green light blinked, the door clicked open—

—and steam hit her face like a wall.

The room was massive, way bigger than she expected, with tall windows that let in the hazy afternoon light and two queen-sized beds on opposite ends. One side was already partially unpacked—clothes scattered, a sleek speaker bumping something with heavy bass, and a towel draped over a chair.

"Oh—!" Malia froze mid-step.

The bathroom door across the room cracked open, and a girl emerged in nothing but a white towel, steam clinging to her skin like silk. Her hair was dark and damp, sticking to her neck and shoulders, and her body—Malia's breath caught—was literal art.

The girl didn't notice her at first. She was humming to herself, drying her ear with a finger, completely at ease. Then she looked up and blinked. "Oh. You're here."

Malia stood stiff, blinking too fast. "Uh—I—yeah. Um. Hi."

The girl smirked a little, like this happened all the time. "You're my roommate, huh?" She gave Malia a once-over—curious, not judgmental. "I'm Kylie."

"Malia," she managed, cheeks burning. She shifted her suitcase in front of her like a shield. "Sorry. I didn't—I didn't know you were in here."

"Don't worry. I don't bite... unless you steal my hair products." Kylie winked, then turned casually to her side of the room, her towel rising just barely in the back as she walked away.

Malia made a noise. A noise. She didn't even know what kind. It slipped out like air from a balloon.

Kylie giggled under her breath. "Relax, Malia. We're roommates, not rivals."

Malia practically scurried to her side of the room and busied herself unpacking her books—first editions, fantasy trilogies, two graphic novels, and the old leather-bound copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray she always kept nearby. She tried not to look up when Kylie peeled off into the closet area with her makeup bag, still in the towel, still humming.

This was going to be... complicated.

⸻

Ten minutes later, Kylie was gone—dressed in something tight and glittery, shouting something about Ruby and a frat house—and the dorm felt bigger without her in it. Like the steam had lifted and the reality of college life had returned.

Malia flopped onto her bed, letting her shoulders drop. The door creaked open again, and Peder practically waltzed in without knocking.

"Hello, sapphic queen of the nerdverse," he announced. "Did the hot girl already leave?"

Malia sat up, hiding her face behind a pillow. "Don't start."

"Oh, I'm starting. Tell me everything."

"She came out in a towel. Literally a towel. Just—like it was nothing."

"Oh. My. God." Peder flopped dramatically next to her. "She's bold. You good?"

"No," Malia muttered. "I forgot my own name for like five seconds."

Peder grinned. "So... she's hot."

Malia glared at him. "Shut up."

"I'm just saying—you got the baddie. I'm paired with a comic nerd who thinks deodorant is optional."

"You love comics."

"Yeah, but not with body odor as a side dish." He plucked up one of her manga volumes. "Anyway, this room is huge. We could literally host tournaments in here."

Malia perked up. "We could. I brought my console."

"Oh, don't tempt me with Mortal Kombat. I'll beat your ass with Kitana."

"You wish you could beat me."

⸻

Ten minutes later, they were both sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her flat-screen monitor, controllers in hand, arguing over combos and fatalities like it was any other night at home.

"You always spam—SPAM the uppercut!" Malia groaned, nearly tossing her controller.

"That's called strategy, babe."

"You're a menace."

"Thank you." Peder nudged her with his foot. "You know... this might actually be good for you."

"What?"

"Living with her. She's hot, yeah, but she's not... unreachable. You just need to, like, relax. Don't put her on a goddess pedestal."

Malia paused, her fingers frozen on the controller. "Too late."

Peder laughed so hard he nearly dropped his drink.

⸻

Across the hallway, Ruby was shouting at Kylie over a glittery crop top.

"I'm not wearing that," Kylie said, grinning. "I'll blind people."

"Exactly the point." Ruby checked herself in the mirror, then glanced toward the door. "You meet your roomie?"

Kylie tossed her lip gloss into her bag. "Yeah. Cute. Shy. Total blusher."

Ruby raised a brow. "Your type?"

Kylie shrugged, but there was a little glint in her eye. "Might be."

She didn't say anything more as they headed out for the night. But Malia's stammering voice, pink cheeks, and the way her eyes dropped to Kylie's waist like they didn't mean to—yeah.

Definitely might be.