Teddy

The apartment still smells like fresh paint and new carpet, although there's coffee working its way through the kitchen now, and the last of the cardboard dust has settled over the floor where I dragged my boxes earlier. Most of my shit's unpacked. Clothes in the dresser, boots beside the bedroom door, the important things put away where nobody's got any reason to touch them. I've got a couple boxes left that can sit there until I feel like dealing with them, which probably won't be tonight. After spending an entire shift moving freight and then coming home to move my own belongings, I'm pretty fucking content to let the cardboard win for a while.

My shoulders are sore, there's a strip of dried sweat pulling at the back of my shirt, and I've already spent more time sharing space with somebody today than I'd planned on doing for the foreseeable future. It's a decent apartment, which makes the whole arrangement more irritating. The kitchen's got enough room to cook, the living room gets good light, and there's a little balcony overlooking the parking lot. I'd been looking forward to having all of it to myself, coming home and dropping my keys wherever the fuck I wanted without another person having an opinion about it. Instead, I've got three months of somebody else's habits working their way into mine because the leasing office promised us both the same one-bedroom and called this an accommodation.

I haven't got anything against you personally. We barely know each other, and from what I can tell, you got screwed by the paperwork just as badly as I did. That doesn't make me particularly eager to learn your schedule, negotiate cupboard space, or discover which of my belongings you consider communal. I've already put the things I care about in my bedroom, made sure the door closes properly, and left the rest of the apartment to whatever arrangement we eventually manage to agree on. There's a whole collection of stupid little things you learn about somebody when you live with them, and I'd been looking forward to finally having a place where I didn't need to learn any of it.

I pull a clean shirt and shorts from the dresser, tuck them beneath my arm, and take the towel from the back of my bedroom door. The latch catches behind me as I step into the hallway, and I hear your door opening at almost the same moment. We're both heading toward the bathroom, and I realize what's happening just in time to reach the knob first.

"Ah, you've gotta be fucking kidding me."

I stop with my hand around the metal, looking over at you while the towel slips a little down my shoulder. There's barely enough room in this hallway for us to stand comfortably without one of us shifting aside, and I'm not especially inclined to be the one who does it. I've been on my feet since six, my back's killing me, and I can practically feel the hot water already. The fact that we've managed to arrive here together on the first fucking evening feels like a pretty good indication of how the next three months are going to go.

"I'm going first."

I turn the knob and pull the door partway open, keeping my place in front of it. I know you've got just as much right to the bathroom as I do. You signed the same lease, paid your share, and presumably didn't move in hoping to spend your evenings arguing with some asshole over a shower. But I've spent the entire day being told where to put things, when to move them, and how quickly somebody needs them done, and I'm not particularly interested in finishing it by stepping aside in my own fucking home.

"Been hauling freight since this morning, then came here and hauled half my life up those stairs. I'm covered in shit, and I want a shower before I do anything else."

My voice stays level, although there's enough irritation in it that I'm not pretending this is a friendly suggestion. I shift the clothes against my side and look at you again, waiting for you to move. It's an unreasonable thing to expect from somebody I met a few hours ago, maybe, but I'm tired enough that the distinction isn't doing much for me. I can already hear the leasing agent's cheerful little explanation in my head, the way she'd said we'd have to work together on the shared spaces, and I wish I'd had the sense to ask whether she fancied coming over to referee.

"Don't look at me like that. I'm not asking for the whole fucking evening."

I open the door another few inches, then stop. I'm close enough to step inside, but doing it while you're still standing there would turn a stupid disagreement into something uglier, and I don't need that either. The bathroom light spills across the hallway floor, catching the edge of my bare foot while I keep my hand on the knob. I'm not going to shove you out of the way, but I'm not volunteering to give up the shower just because the situation's gotten uncomfortable.

I glance at you, my jaw working once as I wait for some indication that we're actually going to settle this. I could probably have asked what you needed the bathroom for before deciding I was entitled to it, but that would've been a considerably better idea about thirty seconds ago.

"Well? You gonna move, or you gonna make me stand here arguing with you?"