the roommate → brad simpson | ✓

sixteen - "ive got magical hands"

I follow Brad out of the complex and down to the ground floor.

"I could've handled it myself without you stepping in," I finally speak up, my arms folded to cover myself up and keep myself warm as the cold breeze brushed against my exposed skin.

Brad notices and shrugs off his denim jacket, placing it over my shoulders and I don't protest. I didn't even notice that he was wearing one until now. It was covering up his white Thrashers shirt that was paired up with some navy blue jeans, folded at the bottom as well as some black Doc Martins.

"Of course you could've," he rolls his eyes. "He was gonna kiss you and you just stood there helplessly. You're welcome, though."

"I didn't say thank you—"

"You just did," he interrupts me and we reach a black BMW. I didn't know he could drive, let alone that he had a car. "Get in."

I hesitate as he opens the door. He doesn't climb in and only gives me a sigh, looking over the hood of the car at me as I stood by the closed passenger door.

"Get in the car, Mango," he asks, his voice quiet. "It's late and we should get back to campus before curfew."

I nod slowly and open up the door, getting in and buckling up my seat belt. He climbs in a moment later and copied my actions before turning the car on and setting off from the apartment complex.

The car ride is awkward as the vehicle is filled with nothing but silence, Brad focusing on the road and I on my hands on my lap. Once he's parked up at campus, we sit in silence for a moment.

He glances over to me, "how much did you drink tonight?"

"Not enough to forget tonight ever happened," I purse my lips for a moment before turning my head to look at him. He was staring out the windshield, his jaw clenched. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," he lies, I know he's lying because he had his thinking face on. "Let's get you upstairs."

I knew I had sobered up a little bit because I could now walk in a straight line, and I stand close to Brad as we walk up to dorm. Neither of us speak as we reach our apartment and he unlocks the door, letting me go first.

"I'm gonna get a shower," I say through a yawn, ditching his jacket on his bed. "And then I'm gonna go to bed."

He closes the door and he nods, "I'll be here when you get out."

Without another word spoken between us, I walk into the bathroom and close the door, stripping out of my pink drink and underwear, putting them in the basket and turn on the shower.

I just let the water run down my hair and take in the warmth while I could. I didn't expect the first time I would speak to Brad in almost two weeks to be at a party where a stranger would kiss me.

I brush the water off of my eyes and let out a sigh, stepping out of the water to reach the shampoo but losing my footing and slipping, falling on to the shower floor with a thud. I groan in pain and let my head drop. Today couldn't get any worse.

Seconds later, I hear the door opening, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I mumble back and I'm thankful that the shower door is steamed up because he can't see me. "I just fell."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Fine," I repeat and he closes the door. My legs feel like jelly as I try to stand back up again. And I don't make any progress. I was so exhausted from the alcohol and the busy night I have had that I didn't know how I could gather the strength to get up. I let out a defeated sigh. "Brad?"