CHAPTER THREE
KAYLAH
The worst part about adulting, if that’s what I could call what I’m doing right now, is being the only one responsible for getting food down my stomach.
But in order to do that, I would have to go shopping, which is a task that feels insurmountable to me, regardless of whether it’s online or in person.
It just feels like too much. But I guess that anything that involves even just a little bit of energy from me tends to that feel that way.
It’s easiest for me to just stay laid up in this bed all day, my thoughts swirling around why I’m the worst person in this world and how bad this year will inevitably go for me.
I’m trying. I’m trying to just not…do this to myself.
Because maybe I’ve been thinking too hard about the possibilities of my antidepressants not working, that I now feel like that’s exactly what’s happening.
After being diagnosed just a few months ago, I kept up with all my moods at all times of the day.
When I picked up on the slight improvement in how I was feeling, I thought I’d found the solution for me. But months later I can’t stop the spiralling constantly happening in my mind, where I think about whether I’m ever going to feel different than I do now. Feeling like I’m back to square one.
I had a plan in those first few days. It feels like a fever dream now, but I had every intention of making an attempt at this whole life thing.
This whole being present in the world thing that I struggle with.
It’s definitely…interesting being in my own world most of the time then having to catch up.
But then old habits die hard, especially when I’ve been in this house by myself for two months now. And without even a knock on the door from someone selling me something or the inevitable delivery driver, I’ve barely seen anyone, leaving me to my thoughts which take me to great places.
Luckily, I packed several months worth of toiletries and staple food items so I haven’t needed to go outside but that’s what gets me into this predicament in the first place.
This start isn’t exactly setting me up for the best outcome at Wildern University, which would be to not get expelled this year. In order to manage that, I know I have to try to do things differently, especially when it comes to my studies. Hockey is probably the only thing I’m not worried about.
Maybe I could just put on a movie or something. I would hope my attention span would be good enough that I can get through one. It’s been a while since I’ve been into a good Thriller.
But just as I’m adjusting myself on the bed to grab my laptop, a sound creeps into the room from what seems to be downstairs. I immediately pick up on…the door being opened and shut?
It could be the landlord. Although she never told me she would be coming by today.
Maybe I won’t jump to counting down from five this time seeing as that went down so well the last time.
But the prospect of being burgled is probably the only thing that can get me up right now.
I take a deep breath and waste no time in making my way down the stairs as silently as I can.
Who even does this when they’re being burgled?
The shuffling is what hits my ears the most, and it sounds like it’s coming from…the bathroom?
But as I speed walk my way to the bathroom once I land at the bottom of the stairs, something I can’t quite make out catches my eyes in all the haste, and before I know it I’m backtracking until I see it again.
It’s only when I’m standing in front of the bedroom by the bathroom a few seconds later that I see it.
Or should I say him?
“What is…happening here?” I ask.
This is one of those times when I can give myself a pat on the back for proving the person who came up with, “There are no stupid questions” wrong, because that in fact, was a stupid question.
I open my mouth to backtrack once again, but now the figure is turning around and…oh, for fuck’s sake.
I sigh and his sigh follows immediately after. If we continue agreeing on things like this, then maybe it won’t be so bad that the man who tried to pretend he wasn’t accusing me of stealing his bedroom is currently unpacking his stuff in the house I was hoping he would stay far away from.
“You again?” I say.
“Here to stay this time.”
His deep voice penetrates my ears, commanding the room just like it did the day we met.
But that’s the only impressive thing about him, if I’m not taking into account his rich dark skin and perfectly groomed beard.
Yet even so, it’s not enough to remove my annoyance.
“Lucky me,” I respond.
“Is this the part where you start counting down with a stick in your hand?”
I ignore his question in favour of my own one. “Can you at least let me know whether you’re a student?”
“Yep. I’ll tell you now I don’t do the partying thing.” His last few syllables are laced with firmness.
“Neither do I.”
But it’s tricky being in a position where I have to work out how to get the socialisation I need without losing myself in the process.
I’ve always been reserved, comfortable enough to spend a lot of time by myself, which was especially easy having a mum who didn’t care to bond with me.
But I was hit with a wave of loneliness I didn’t expect as soon as I got to university, and now I’m in a constant battle with my reserved self and my lonely self.
I know that something has to change with my sociable levels.
I don’t know if that means I need to be seeking out parties though.
“Then I guess we have something in common.” His voice pulls me out of his thoughts, allowing me to finally register the fact he’s tall as hell. Height usually doesn’t impress me because I have it in spades at 6’2, but I think he might actually be rivalling me in that department.
But taking in more of his features, from his deep brown skin to his low cut hair, I come to a realisation.
A realisation he seems to come to at the same time, judging by him saying, “Didn’t catch your name.”
“Kaylah.”
“Julius.”
“Third? Second?”
“Come again?”
“Your year.”
I didn’t choose to live with him, but if we’re going to do this I need to know basic facts about him.
“Second, you? Did you say you were a student?” He’s been putting most of his attention to his clothes as we speak, but at his question he finally turns to me.
I watch as his gaze reaches the floor, and they slowly rake up my body until they reach my eyes.
Because that’s now a roommate requirement, I do the same, letting my eyes trail from top to bottom.
Even beyond his baggy tracksuit, his thick thighs are palpable, and I wonder if he does a sport.
The thought brings me back to his question, and I respond with, “No, but I am. Second year.”
“You know anyone else moving in?”
“No.”
“So no one else is here yet?”
“No.”
“Has the landlord said anything?”
“No.”
“Do you know any other words?”
“No.”
Either he sighs a lot or I’m bringing out of him.
“It’s my own fault for coming here when the school year hasn’t even started yet,” he says.
“Why did you come here early?”
I’m not sure what’s so fascinating about his bed, but he stares deeply at it as my question evaporates into the air. After a few minutes, he doesn’t look up as he says, “Thanks for the warm welcome.”
I nod, taking the dismissal for what it is.
“Great chat,” I say.
“Best conversation I’ve ever had.”
I roll my eyes at his words, and waste no time leaving his room, but I slow down on the stairs as a question runs through my mind. But the moment I step into my room, I get my answer in the form of the sounds of his bag rustling underneath man and what I can only assume is him muttering to himself.
Of course his room would be the one under mine.