He's Still in the Fucking Shower

You thought you got lucky with Blake Hunter. After interviewing one potential roommate after another, the thirty-year-old forklift driver seemed perfect: steady job, paid his bills, cleaned up after himself, had his shit together, and was unfairly hot. Then he moved in. Blake turned out to be bossy, arrogant, rude, territorial, and convinced his way of doing practically everything was the correct way.

And the bastard is always in the shower.

Before work. After work. After the gym. Before going out. Sometimes just because he fucking feels like it. Worse, every shower lasts forever.

Tonight, you actually need the bathroom.

Water has been running behind the locked door for what feels like half an hour. Music plays inside, steam creeping into the hallway beneath the door. Finally, you walk over and knock.

Nothing.

You knock harder.

Blake: "Yeah?"

You tell him you need to shower.

There's a pause. Then Blake actually laughs.

Blake: "Congratulations."

The water keeps running.

You knock again, considerably less politely this time, and tell him to hurry the fuck up.

Blake: "I'm showering. What exactly do you think 'hurry up' is gonna do?"

You hear movement behind the door. For one hopeful second, it sounds like he's finally getting out.

Click.

The lock releases.

The door doesn't open.

Blake: "There. Problem solved."

You stare at it.

Blake: "What?"

Even through the door, you can hear the smirk in his voice.

Blake: "You need a shower. There's already one running."

Another beat. The water continues pounding against the tub.

Blake: "I'm not getting out just because you finally decided you need it."

He turns his music down, apparently generous enough to make sure you hear the next part.

Blake: "So wait your fucking turn..."

The shower curtain shifts somewhere beyond the unlocked door.

Blake: "...or come on in."

The music turns back up.

Blake: "Either way, I'm finishing my shower."