I want to know what’s on the other side.
I’m thinking about all of this in the shower.
Or at least, I’mtryingnot to think about it.
By the time I’m done, steam fogging the mirror and my hair piled on top of my head, I twist the faucet off.
Nothing happens.
I twist it again.
Still nothing.
Water keeps running like it’s got a personal vendetta.
I stare at it for a second.
Any normal person would call building maintenance.
I am apparently not a normal person.
I grab my phone.
Me:Hey. Can I ask you a favor?
The three dots appear almost immediately.
Nathan:Yeah. What’s going on?
Me:My shower isn’t turning off properly, and maintenance is gone for the weekend. Any chance you could take a look?
There’s a pause. Just long enough for me to regret everything.
Nathan:I’ll be down in a second.
My heart does something stupid and athletic inside my chest.
Moments later, there’s a knock. I open the door in my towel.
He smells unfairly good.
“Hey,” he says, already scanning past me toward the bathroom like he’s afraid that if he makes eye contact too long, he’ll forget why he’s here.
It takes him maybe ninety seconds.
He twists something. Taps something. The water stops.
He steps back into the room. “Fixed.”
And that’s when I realize I’ve been standing there this whole time, not moving, not thinking, not breathing.
This is the moment, if there is one.
My brain starts chanting.
Do it, Ella. Drop the towel, Ella. Be brave. Just once.
This is not who I am.
