Chapter 4 #2
Every shelf, container, and drawer had been labeled with colorful Post-it notes.
My meal prep containers now sat beside what appeared to be scientific specimens in glass jars.
One shelf had been entirely cleared and labeled “Kate’s Experimental Yogurt Cultures (completely harmless to humans, probably). ”
Probably?
I closed the refrigerator and took a deep breath. Then I noticed my supplement shelf. My perfectly organized, alphabetized supplement shelf. Now it was a chaotic mix of protein powders and boxes labeled “Immunity Boost Tea” and “Brain Function Enhancement Blend.”
“You’re back!”
I turned to find Kate emerging from the guest room, wearing jeans and a sweater with what looked like the periodic table on it.
“What,” I said slowly, “did you do to my kitchen?”
“Oh!” She glanced at the refrigerator, then back at me.
“I organized! Well, reorganized. I needed space for my cultures, and I figured labeling everything would help me remember what’s yours, so I don’t accidentally eat your specifically timed nutrition plan.
Your meal prep is impressive, by the way.
The macronutrient balance is perfect for muscle recovery. ”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “And my supplements?”
“Right, about those...” She shifted uncomfortably. “I may have rearranged them slightly to make room for my teas. But I kept all yours together! And I added labels with optimal timing for consumption based on your training schedule.”
I opened the cabinet. Sure enough, each of my supplements now had an additional Post-it note: “Take before training,” “Take after protein consumption,” “Most effective on empty stomach.”
“How do you know my training schedule?” I asked, torn between irritation and curiosity.
“I...might have looked at your calendar on the refrigerator.” She winced. “For purely practical roommate coordination purposes.”
I should have been angry. This woman had completely disrupted my system in less than twenty-four hours. But strangely, I found myself almost impressed by her thoroughness.
“The yogurt cultures,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “What does ‘probably harmless’ mean exactly?”
“Oh! They’re definitely harmless. The ‘probably’ was just a little microbiologist humor.
” She laughed, then stopped abruptly at my expression.
“They’re beneficial bacteria. Probiotics.
Good for gut health, immune function, maybe even mood regulation.
I’m studying their potential applications for post-surgical recovery, actually. ”
“I’m not eating your science experiments.”
“No! Of course not. They’re not for eating. Well, not for you eating. They’re just...growing. Harmlessly. In sealed containers.” She bit her lip. “I can move them to the lab tomorrow if they bother you.”
I sighed, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “Just...ask before you reorganize anything else, okay?”
“Absolutely.” She nodded vigorously. “Total communication from now on. Speaking of which, I made dinner! As a thank you for letting me stay. Nothing fancy, just a protein-rich recovery meal based on what I read about optimal nutrition for ligament healing.”
She gestured toward the oven, where something actually smelled delicious.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, suddenly aware I was starving.
“I wanted to. It’s chicken with anti-inflammatory herbs and roasted vegetables. The curcumin in turmeric has been shown to reduce inflammatory markers in clinical studies.” She smiled hopefully. “Truce offering?”
I found myself nodding before I could overthink it. “Truce accepted. For now.”
Later that night, I lay in bed, unable to sleep.
I grabbed my phone, finding myself opening the conversation with Desert Survivor.
Do you believe people should respect personal space and boundaries, or am I just a control freak?
Her response came quickly, as if she’d been waiting.
Desert Survivor
Depends. Are we talking about someone borrowing your toothbrush or just breathing the same air as you? Context matters, Mr. Control Issues.
I smiled despite myself.
More like someone reorganizing my entire life without permission.
Desert Survivor
Sounds frustrating. Is this a roommate situation? Those can be tricky when you’re used to having your own space.
Something like that. Just started and they’ve already rearranged everything to their liking. No asking, just doing.
Desert Survivor
I get that. I’m dealing with my own adjustment period in a new place. It’s hard when you feel like you’ve lost control of your environment.
I set my phone aside, staring at the ceiling, achingly aware of both my solitude and the fact that I wasn’t truly alone.
At least this desert survivor was a relief from thinking about this Kate situation.
I hit send before I could overthink it, immediately second-guessing myself.
I can’t stop thinking about what you said earlier. About generating heat in this cold.
Desert Survivor
Funny how a wrong number led to this. What exactly are you thinking about?
How your skin might feel under my hands. Warming you up, inch by inch.
Had I crossed a line? The three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again.
Desert Survivor
God, I shouldn’t be doing this with a stranger. But there’s something about the anonymity that makes me want to tell you everything I’m imagining.
Tell me. No judgment here.
I wondered what she looked like in that moment—was she biting her lip, hesitating? Was she alone?
Desert Survivor
I’m imagining strong hands moving slowly up my thighs. Being pressed against a wall. The contrast of cold air and hot breath on my neck. Is that too much?
Not even close to too much. I’m picturing you now, breathless and wanting. My hands gripping your hips, pulling you against me until you feel exactly how much I want you.
Desert Survivor
Fuck. I’m getting wet just reading that. What would your mouth be doing while your hands are busy?
Starting at your neck, tasting your skin, working down to your collarbone. Then lower, taking my time until you’re begging me to stop teasing.
Desert Survivor
I’d definitely be begging. But not for you to stop.
What are you wearing right now?
Desert Survivor
Just an oversized t-shirt and underwear. Easy access for the hands I’m imagining.
Are your hands where mine would be?
Desert Survivor
Yes. Wishing they were yours instead.
I’m hard thinking about that. About you touching yourself while reading my words.
Desert Survivor
Tell me what you’d do if you were here.
I’d pull that shirt over your head. Slide your underwear down your legs. Spread you open and taste you until your legs are shaking.
Desert Survivor
I’m so close just thinking about it.
Come for me, Desert Survivor. Imagine it’s my fingers inside you, my mouth on you.
Desert Survivor
Oh god. That was...I don’t usually do this.
Neither do I. Something about you...
Desert Survivor
This is crazy. Texting a wrong number has me more turned on than my last three dates combined.
Same here. Sleep well, Desert Survivor. Dream of me.