Coffee
ROWAN
Ever since I’ve moved into the university dorms—which was yesterday—I have this feeling of being enclosed. It won’t let go of my head. Everything feels almost empty inside the walls of the hallways. It smells like freedom outside my dorm. And right now, I am sitting next to the door, curled and trembling like a cabbage. Well… Long story-short, my roommate always told me to “never call him” unless it’s urgent. Yet today I left my keys inside the dorm, went out to my afternoon courses and came back at 7 pm. I tried calling him when I was met with the locked door, yet he left me a message.
MILO: don’t call me.
It feels as if he’s trying to play catch. He’s always very indifferent, yet somehow comes up with a solution for everything. Scoffing, my hand leaned over into the pocket and I swiftly picked up my phone. Glancing at our empty message box, with only the missed call notice and his message, I started tapping the screen hastily,
ROWAN: I left my keys inside, please help me.
His message was quicker than the previous one. And it didn’t hesitate to shock, nor disgust me. My eyes widened and I almost gasped at what he wrote back.
MILO: fucking some guy, I can’t.
ROWAN: Is that all you can tell me?
Yet he sent me another “friendly packed bomb”, just as I like calling his nasty replies. He has no digital footprint shame, let alone… nevermind.
MILO: be a big, and good boy and lock pick it ;)
I knew I’d be wasting my words trying to play into it—yet I did anyway. I rolled my eyes at his stupid reply and quickly sent him a message with no remorse whatsoever:
ROWAN: First things first, be a good master and open the fucking door for me. Second of all just fuck me if you want me to be good.
Yet right after I sent it, I felt oddly ashamed… my cheeks burnt as I licked my lips. I checked my phone again, and he replied with a simple “sure on the latter”.
I dug my face into my knees, almost yelling out. I wanted to kill myself in that moment—so embarrassing… What was in my mind, even!?
In the end, I spent my night at another dorm. A guy I met prior to people finding out I’m the roommate of a so-called “sex master” decided to keep me in for the night. Him and I fell asleep almost immediately after a few game rounds on his console—he’s a lucky one for having two beds in an almost empty dorm.
The next morning, I tried to sneak back into the dorm. Now, the door was unlocked, and a few guitar riffs stormed out from inside. I opened the door, locking it behind myself. Milo was inside, playing guitar shirtless. He was facing the window, and he had a few scratches on his back.
The room smelled like cigarette smoke, and he was enjoying his morning to the fullest. I drifted by the entrance and slipped to the kitchen. I need a coffee.
I picked the coffee bag from the cabinet, pouring some beans into the machine. Then, I turned it on. A cold sensation struck my back. On further inspection, Milo’s dark toned hands were stiffened on the counter, trapping me between them. “Hello, black boy,” he monotonously said.
“You’re black yourself,” I quickly tried to remind him, since it’s a thing he often forgets. Yet Milo scoffed and leaned over my shoulder, staring at my coffee.
“Yeah, whatever,” he paused. “Make me one, be good today, okay?” I growled, shaking my head softly. I didn’t transfer here for this!
“Make one yourself. You’re 23 for fuck’s sake,” I hiss at him. Yet he laughs, patting my head in return. “And you know me for one day, there’s no reason to-” his hand hushed me, covering my mouth.
“Whatever suits your tastes will do, Rowan.” He smirked. “Just be done with the coffee, okay?”
In the end, I made him a coffee. I sat down on the couch inside the dorm, setting the mugs on the table. Milo left the bathroom, taking a quick peek at me. “Ah, you made it!” He smiled softly and sat down next to me. He was wearing a Rick and Morty t-shirt and loose sweatpants. “You redid your dreads,” I quickly announced, taking my mug of coffee between my palms. “They really suit you.” Milo almost blushed, yet the soft gaze he laid on his face for a brief second disappeared in a blink. “Uh-huh,” his soft gaze was replaced by his stupid smirk as he approved. “If I’d dread my bush, would you like seeing that one too?”
I rolled my eyes. “Stop movin’ shady. Hush it.” Yet he moved closer. And closer. Between us all that was left was just a tiny gram of air. “Fuck off,” I pushed him away with my foot, shoving it into his chest. Yet he laughed.
“Alright, alright.” He sighed. “But don’t forget it’s Saturday, so I have you for two whole days.” “You’re so close to calling me boo.” I took a sip out of my mug, and his smirk widened. “Well, would you like me to? Boo?” I frowned.
“Shut up, Milo…” I looked away–but somehow I felt strange refusing him. His stupid laugh feels comforting.
“Since it’s Saturday, I have something special to do to you!” He joyously announced—I winced. Is this about my message?
“What is it?” I quickly ask. He got happier, opening a drawer underneath the sofa. “What are these?” I glanced at the boxes.
“Makeup.” He promptly replied, showing me one palette. “We aren’t allowed to leave on the weekends, unless it’s for groceries…”
“So you want to test your makeup skills on me?” I raised an eyebrow, yet he innocently nodded. Ugh… “Fine.”
For the next four hours, I allowed Milo to hand me a full makeover. And by the time we were done, I myself couldn’t tell who I was. He’s an amazing artist, I must give that to him. Yet that doesn’t change him being a complete asshole.
