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I go up on my tiptoes, but I don’t even reach their eye levels. I’m too short and their too tall. It still doesn’t stop me from scowling at the giant Thor look-alike. “Where are my lenses?” I shout.

Hunter shakes his head. “I don’t know what those are.”

I groan, setting down my camera on the kitchen counter. “Well,” I turn to Lucas, who just stares at me. He just stares at me as if I’m growing two heads. If I don’t find those lenses I just might.

I grab a dirty frying pan from the kitchen sink, still sticky from making Seth his stupid French toast, which still lies on the floor. Seth peaks over the couch, crawling to stand but still struggling through his laughter. “First time seeing a dick, Rachel?” He says between giggles. “You should enjoy it. Knowing you, you’ll never see another again.”

I must have gone completely batshit crazy. I whip the pan behind my head and release it, hoping it hits Seth in his stupid face. Instead it hits the couch and lands on the floor with a clatter.

Seth stares at it, mouth open. “You psycho freak!” He shouts, bounding up from the couch and stalking towards me.

“Yeah, what the actual fuck,” says Hunter behind me.

“Just give me my lenses.” Seth stops in front of me, finger in my face, yet no words escape his lips. “Now,” I say, turning around and finding a glass filled with dirty water. “Or else-“

“Ah fuck this,” I hear Lucas behind me. I glance over my shoulder, watching him reach into Seth’s pant pockets and dig out the lenses for me.

He grabs my hand, placing the lenses in my palms and wrapping my fingers around them. I am too shocked. I don’t know if it’s because he looks like he’s going to murder me or it’s because I’m not expecting such kindness from one of Seth’s bros.

“Thank you,” I breathe, not knowing what else to say.

Lucas rolls his eyes and strides back to the couch. No one says a word and before they can make me do anything else like clean the French toast or wash the dishes, I run back to my room, slam the door and lock it.

***

So, maybe I should have cleaned the bathroom last night. I stare around me, at the mildew and the socks cluttering the sink. Why do they put their socks in the sink? There are even several pairs soaking in some brown water. The soap clings to the top, as if giving up and trying to escape. I spent the whole night before scrubbing the disgusting, sticky floors and salvaging the kitchen that, unfortunately, I decided to leave the bathroom up to chance. At the time, I wasn’t thinking about my dire need for a shower.

Even now I wonder if I truly need a shower. Sure, I probably still smell like airplane and there are a couple days’ worth of dry shampoo in my hair, but it’s girls night out! I want to wear my finest and drink large mochas while I discuss art. That’s the way college life is, right? Staying up late with friends and having meaningless debates about art styles and themes.

I scrunch up my nose. Alright, Rachel, just keep your flip flops on and close your eyes. It’s not like you need to shave or anything. Just wash your face, pits, and hair. It’ll be fifteen minutes max.

I try not to gag as I push back the glass door, immediately welcomed by the hair still stuck in the drain. I said close your eyes! I grimace, closing my eyes and stepping inside. Thank God I brought my flip flops. I turn on the water, sighing when the hot water hits my skin, wiping away the airplane stink, the stress from the move, and the stress of living with complete assholes.

I turn around and lather my hair with shampoo. I wince, hearing something banging in the background, but I push those thoughts away. It doesn’t matter to me what those idiots are doing. Soon I would be out at a cafe with Charlie and Lauren and discussing the big project. Nevermind the noise.

I turn off the water, hearing the bass banging in the background and realizing one of the assholes is blasting some sort of rap music. I hear some talking and a shout while I wrap myself in a towel and open the door just a hair, peeking through the crack and finding at least six strangers I don’t know lingering in the hallway. Possibly more in the living room.

I look around at the bathroom, only now realizing I don’t have a change of clothes. Really? I sigh and look at the ceiling. Are they doing this on purpose? They really want to make my life a living hell, now don’t they? What did I ever do to them to deserve this kind of treatment? I roll back my shoulders. Come now, Rachel. You are not going to let this get to you, I decide while throwing open the door. It’s a thirty second walk to my room. No big deal.

“Hey Seth!” A girl stands between me and my room wearing a black mesh top and a bright pink push up bra underneath. She stuffs her hands into the back pockets of her high waisted shorts and smirks at me. “Who’s this?”

“Excuse me,” I say, reaching for my doorknob, yet she pushes my hand away. I frown, tightening my hold on my towel. My skin prickles in the chilly air. I stare at the girl, quickly realizing it’s the gymnast the boys have been passing around and stop myself from rolling my eyes.

“What is it Mitzie?” Seth strides towards the gymnast, throwing an arm over her shoulder and looking me up and down with a stupid smirk.

“It’s Millie,” the gymnast corrects with a pout.

“Ah, really?” Seth nuzzles her shoulder. “I kinda like Mitzie.”

“This,” Millie gestures towards me. “Who’s this?”

“Excuse me,” I say, reaching for my doorknob again.