Ms. West

Through the Window, Between the Lines

Inwardly, I wondered what on earth was so amusing, and why she was laughing as if she'd been possessed by hysteria itself.

"Mom! Enough already! What's so damn funny?!"

At last, she stopped laughing, wiping the tears that had streaked down her cheeks and dabbing away the ones still pooling in her eyes.

"You know, it's been ages since I laughed like that. And who was that outside? You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend." She folded her arms in a mock sulk, turning her gaze back to the television where animals were still mid-mating.

I let out a long sigh, rummaging for the remote and switching the TV off.

"She's not my girlfriend, she's—" I faltered. A friend? But Tya wasn't my friend. A teacher? God forbid I say that—my mother would have my head.

"She's... uh, Meen's friend—her sister, actually. She offered to drive me home," I finished, lifting both shoulders in an innocent shrug.

My mother looked at me, arms still folded across her chest.

"You're just like me," she said. "Your eyes can't lie to me. But it's fine—I know you won't tell me anything unless it's already happened." She gave my shoulder a firm rub, punctuating it with a couple of light pats.

"Urgh, Mom! Nothing is ever going to happen, okay?" I shot back, rising from my seat and heading for the stairs.

"I'm going to sleep! Huh! Bye!" I turned my face away as quickly as possible—a gesture meant to show I was offended, though in truth, I wasn't.

I climbed the stairs with an easy calm, free of any trace of chaos, until I reached my room. Pushing the door open, I stepped inside and shut it behind me.

A long breath escaped my lips, carrying with it the weight of the day—so heavy to bear, yet somehow lightened by that single exhale.

Grabbing a towel, I made my way straight to the bathroom. Once inside, I hooked the towel onto the rack and turned on the shower, letting the steady rush of water fill the small space.

When I was done, I wrapped the towel snugly around my body, dabbing away the lingering streams that traced my skin.

Crossing to my wardrobe, I searched for something to sleep in. At last, I found a shirt I seldom wore—my usual choice for sleepwear. Slipping it on, I sent Meen a quick text to let her know I'd made it home.

I moved to the bed, plugged in my phone to charge, and collapsed onto the mattress in a star-shaped sprawl, eyes drifting up to the ceiling.

I was ready to close my eyes, ready to surrender to sleep—but my mind betrayed me, replaying fragments of the night: the party, the car ride, the bathroom, every conversation with Ms. We—Tya—looping again and again in vivid detail.

✂️

I was parked in front of Meen's house, waiting for her to get ready—deeply regretting my decision to arrive early, because now I was stuck here while she took her sweet time.

Last night, sleep had come far too late, my mind tangled with too many thoughts of her. The result? Dark shadows under my eyes, courtesy of her.

While I waited, I shifted the car into neutral, pulled the handbrake, and entertained myself with my phone—scrolling through TikTok.

The memes were funny enough, but the comments? Those were on a whole other level.

Suddenly, Meen's front door swung open, and out stepped a beautiful woman with zero respect for punctuality. She made her way from the pavement to my car like it was her personal catwalk.