Sprinkling Fling ✓

27.

"Hello?" I scream through the air vent in the shower.

It's been a while, but I'm pretty sure it's Chase. How do I know, you might ask, I don't, but it's beside the point. Otherwise, I will be having a nice conversation with one of his roommates.

"Nightingale?" I hear back.

It's him.

A smile forms on my face, and my heart starts to beat a little faster. I feel a pang of guilt for getting this excited talking to another guy—considering I made Del orgasm just ten minutes ago.

But this thing between Chase and i is innocent, mostly at least. No, we have a mutual agreement this thing isn't going anywhere past platonic.

"It's me," I'm certain that he can hear the smile in my voice, "how are you?"

"Oh, I'm fucking incredible, my little nightingale. How are things for you?"

I lean against the shower wall escaping the falling water for a little; it only hits my shins and feet.

Like always, I feel like I can open up with Chase—more than I can with Del. I know that sounds very bad, considering Del is my boyfriend. But it's easier to confide in Chase since I don't actually see him.

People watching me makes me uncomfortable, especially when I have something to get off my chest. The intensive eye contact only makes it more intimidating to let out all my feelings. It makes me feel judged.

I've always been obsessed with what people think of me. I always want to make a good impression. And well, if I dump all my shit on Del, I feel like I'm bothering him, or maybe he'd think something different of me.

I know he wouldn't be like that. But it's just my brain that doesn't understand that. It gives me anxiety every time.

I have an anxious need to be liked by people, which is only achievable when I'm perfect.

I need to be perfect in his eyes.

Talking to Chase; it's like confessing in church. Except I've never in my life been to church. I know that stuff from the movies.

He doesn't see me.

He doesn't know me.

He can't connect the things I'm telling him to a face.

If I ever were to cross him on the street, he wouldn't know. His mind wouldn't be clouded by all things wrong with me. He would not have a preserved opinion about me.

Chase might not know it, but I will never allow us to meet. I've taken my walls down for him, but they need to stay up to the real world.

This shower feels like a sacred place to spill my insecurities and fears.

"Well, things have been all over the place. I'm so happy to talk to you now." I hope he can hear how genuine I am.

"Is everything okay?"

Are things ever just okay? That's a rather demanding question. If you look at my life from the outside right now, things are looking great. However, the internal struggles I still face every day can pull me back from thoroughly enjoying it.

"Well, um, things have been great, but some bad things have happened. I know I shouldn't be putting all my drama on you, but I just—I don't really know who else to talk to."

He is silent for a few moments.

"You want to share it with me, though?"

His deep voice echoes through the ventilator vent. I wonder what his voice sounds like without being reverberated by the bathroom. Would he be this amazing singer?