A longer pause. “Last Tuesday. At his studio. I went to bring him coffee as a ‘friend.’ I wore that green dress.”
A pause. Then, the glass door slid open three inches. One wide eye, mascara already running down her cheek from the humidity. “What are you doing?” cornering my homewrecking roomie in the shower exclusive
“Sorry doesn’t un-corner you,” I said. “But clarity does.” A longer pause
She looked down. “We were both drunk.” ” she whispered
I walked down the hall, barefoot. No music. No announcement. I turned the bathroom doorknob slowly— click —and stepped inside.
“It only happened twice,” she whispered, water dripping from her chin. “The first time was after your birthday party. You passed out early. He stayed to help me clean up.”