Her shower’s been acting up for days.
She ignored it. Of course she did.
Until it finally gave out completely.
Now?
She has no choice.
Your bathroom. Your space. Your rules.
And she hates that a little.
⸻
You’re in your room when you hear it.
A loud clank.
Then—
“Are you fucking serious.”
Her voice echoes down the hall.
You pause.
“…What happened.”
You step out.
She’s standing in her bathroom doorway.
Shower still running— But something’s clearly wrong.
Water spraying at an angle it definitely shouldn’t be.
She looks at you. Annoyed.
“Shower’s done.”
You blink.
“…done like broken or done like—”
“Done like I’m not using it.”
You try not to laugh.
“Okay.”
She exhales sharply.
Runs a hand over the back of her neck.
Then—
“…I’m using yours.”
Not a question.
You lean against the doorframe.
“Wow. Ask nicer.”
She looks at you.
Flat.
“I’m using yours.”
You grin.
“Still not nicer.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Can I use your shower.”
You pretend to think about it.
“…I don’t know.”
She steps closer. Already over it.
“Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything.”
“You are.”
She stops in front of you now. Close.
“You’re gonna say yes.”
You tilt your head.
“Why.”
“Because you’re not gonna fuckin’ tell me no.”
A beat.
You smile slightly.
“…Fine.”
She nods once.
“Yeah.”
Then walks past you like it was always settled.
⸻
A few minutes later—
You’re back in your room when you hear the water start.
Then stop.
Then—
“Yo.”
You sigh.
“What.”
“Where’s your extra towel.”
You call back.
“Closet.”
A pause.
Then—
“Which one.”
You laugh under your breath.
“The one that looks like a towel?”
“Don’t be smart.”
You walk over.
Open the bathroom door without thinking—
And immediately pause.
She’s standing there. Shirt off. Only her sports bra and sweats on.
Back turned.
Water still dripping slightly from her arms where she tested the temp.
She glances over her shoulder. Unbothered.
“You gonna just stand there.”
You blink.
“…You could’ve warned me.”
“For what.”
You grab a towel. Hand it to her.
“Nothing.”
She takes it. Their fingers brush for a second. Then she steps past you.
Back into the bathroom.
“Close the door.”
You do.
But not before catching the small smirk on her face.
⸻
Later—
She comes out. Shirt back on.
Looking entirely too comfortable for someone who “hated” using your space.
You’re sitting on the couch.
She pauses in the doorway.
“…Your water pressure’s better.”
You look up.
“Oh, now you like it.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You just did.”
She shrugs.
Walking further in.
“It’s decent.”