Spilt Milk. Part 0
0 - Calm Before
The doorknob rattled as Hailey fumbled with her key, shoulders sagging under the weight of her overstuffed backpack. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck where her ponytail clung like a golden rope, the late afternoon sun streaming through the hallway windows making the third-floor dorm feel more like a sauna. She practically fell into room 308, kicking the door shut with her heel before dropping her bag with a loud thud that made the laminate floors tremble.
"Welcome home, workaholic," called a voice from the kitchenette. Jess leaned against the mini fridge holding a popsicle, her box braids piled into a pineapple atop her head. The metallic click-click of her acrylic nails tapping the refrigerator door punctuated the words. "What's today's casualty count? Two midterms? Three lab reports?"
Hailey groaned, peeling her damp t-shirt away from her sports bra. "Professor Keating sprung a pop quiz on Baroque composers. After two hours of ballet technique." She yanked the hair tie loose, blonde strands cascading over shoulders still tense from holding fifth position. "I swear that man times his surprises for when I'm dehydrated enough to see musical notes floating in my peripheral vision."
Jess smirked, taking a slow lick of her cherry popsicle. Red juice dripped down her wrist. "Shouldn't you be used to pain? Isn't 'suffering for art' like, the official motto of dance majors?"
"It's athletes," Hailey corrected, bending to untie her sneakers with fingers still trembling from hours of pliés. "Dance is sport and art. You wouldn't last a day in my leotard."
"Don't threaten me with a good time." Jess's eyes tracked the way Hailey's cutoff jean shorts rode up as she crouched, revealing crescent moons of pale thigh usually hidden beneath baggy denim. "Though speaking of fashion choices...when are you retiring the Amish couture? The boys at Sigma Chi keep asking if I'm rooming with a lumberjack or a lesbian."
Hailey froze mid-shoe removal, one bare foot hovering awkwardly above the floor. A flush crept up her neck—that particular shade of pink Jess had come to recognize as Hailey's tell whenever conversations veered toward bodies or boys. "I like being comfortable," she muttered, focusing intently on arranging her sneakers by the door. "Not everyone needs to dress like they're auditioning for Love Island."
The microwave clock blinked 4:47 PM in toxic green numbers as Hailey sank onto the secondhand sofa. She gulped from her water bottle, condensation dripping onto her shirt and darkening the already damp fabric. Through the window, the campus quad buzzed with Frisbee games and skateboarders, a world of effortless laughter that seemed galaxies away from her reality of rehearsal schedules and scholarship requirements.
Jess leaned over the back of the couch, her dangling silver earrings brushing Hailey's shoulder. "You know I'm just messing with you, right? But seriously..." She poked a bicep that tensed reflexively. "You're hiding a banging rig under all that flannel. These guns could arm a militia."
"Stop!" Hailey squirmed away, nearly upending her water bottle. Her laugh came out higher than usual. "Why are Americanos affecting you like tequila shots today?"
"Because someone needs to prep you for parties before rush week!" Jess twirled across the stained carpet, her cropped sweater riding up to reveal a sliver of cocoa-colored stomach. "Imagine it—you in some skin-tight bodysuit, rocking that 'accidental Olympian' vibe. Campus players would line up to catch your bouquet."
The mental image sent a pulse of something hot and uncomfortable through Hailey's chest. She busied herself unrolling her yoga mat, fingers smoothing out the creases with unnecessary force. The familiar smell of rubber and lavender-scented cleaner grounded her. "I need to prep for tomorrow's audition, not frat mixers. Madame Dupré said my grand jeté was landing like a 'wounded flamingo' last week."
Jess flopped onto an armchair upholstered in what might have been dinosaurs or possibly abstract mushrooms. "You're really doing another solo session? We just got rid of that weird hip-hop playlist you kept moaning through."
"It's core conditioning!" Hailey stood with her back to the room, hands already reaching for the hem of her shirt. She paused, shoulders tightening. "Don't watch."
"Too late." Jess fanned herself dramatically. "The people demand a peek at those tight abs!"
Hailey's snort sounded more nervous than dismissive. She tugged the oversized shirt over her head in one quick motion, revealing a sports bra the color of old dishwater. For three breathless seconds, her bare midriff glowed in the afternoon light—pale as milk with faint muscle striations rippling beneath skin still glazed with a dancer's sweat.
Jess whistled low and long. "Girl, those abs could grate cheese. When do we start selling tickets?"
"Shut up!" Hailey scrambled into a cropped tank top so fast she nearly tore the straps. The elastic waistband of her shorts snapped against her hips as she shimmied them off, revealing legs that tapered from sculpted thighs to delicate ankles. A strawberry-shaped birthmark on her left calf—usually hidden—peeked out from beneath black cotton briefs.
Jess hurled a throw pillow. "Real talk—how are you single? Like is there a secret fiancé back in Idaho? An evil twin locked in a ballet academy basement?"
Hailey dropped into a straddle stretch, forehead nearly touching the mat as her voice emerged muffled. "Between classes and rehearsals, when exactly would I—" She winced as her hamstring twinged. "—be swiping through Tinder?"
"Not even a sneaky dorm hookup?" Jess wiggled eyebrows that had been filled in to Insta-perfection. "No midnight rendezvous during fire drills? No study sessions that end with—"
The sound of Hailey's palms slapping the mat cut Jess off mid-sentence. As she flowed into downward dog, the cropped tank top rode up, revealing a strip of her lower back where muscles rippled like waves beneath her pale skin. Her ponytail swept the floor as she shifted her weight, the black cotton briefs clinging to her sculpted glutes that flexed with every movement. Even in casual wear, her body was a masterpiece of athletic grace—every curve and line honed by years of discipline.
Jess’s eyes lingered on the way Hailey’s toned arms supported her weight effortlessly, the faint sheen of sweat making her skin glow in the afternoon light. "Damn, Hailey," Jess said, her voice softer now, almost reverent. "You’re like... a walking sculpture. How is it even possible you’re still a virgin?"
Hailey froze mid-stretch, her face flushing a deep crimson that spread from her cheeks down to her neck. She quickly adjusted her tank top, as if trying to hide the evidence of her embarrassment. "W-what makes you think that?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jess leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. "Oh, come on. You’re shy as hell around guys, you train like you’re prepping for the Olympics, and you’ve never once mentioned a hookup or even a date. It’s not exactly rocket science."
Hailey’s blush deepened as she shifted into a seated stretch, her long legs folding gracefully beneath her. She avoided Jess’s gaze, focusing instead on the pattern of her yoga mat. "It’s not like I’m avoiding it or anything," she muttered. "I just... I want it to mean something, you know? Not just some random thing because everyone else is doing it."
Jess’s smirk softened into a smile. "Fair enough. But seriously, with a body like that, you could have your pick of anyone on campus. Just saying."
Hailey rolled her eyes, though the pink tinge in her cheeks betrayed her embarrassment. "Thanks, but I’ll stick to my to-do list for now. One step at a time."
The room fell quiet again, the only sounds the creak of Hailey’s joints and the distant hum of campus life outside. Jess watched her roommate with a mix of admiration and amusement, wondering how someone so stunning could be so unaware of it.
Hailey held her plank position, sweat dripping onto the mat. "Can we talk about literally anything else?"
The shower faucet screamed like a banshee when Hailey turned it on twenty minutes later—a shuddering metallic wail followed by nothing but dusty air puffing from the showerhead. She stared at the dry tiles, water bottle clutched to her chest as post-workout endorphins drained from her body like bathwater.
"Jess?" Her towel-wrapped knuckles rapped against her roommate's closed door. "Why does our shower sound like a lawnmower giving birth?"
Door hinges squeaked. Jess peered out with toothpaste foaming at the corners of her mouth. "Oh crap, forgot to tell you—pipes burst in the west wing. Maintenance said no showers till tomorrow."
Hailey gripped her towel tighter beneath her armpits. "But I'm..." She glanced down at herself—sports bra soaked through, hair clinging to her neck in salty strands. "I can't sleep like this. How’d you wash up?"
"Second floor girls' bathroom." Jess shrugged like she’d suggested borrowing a hair dryer. "Lila Tanaka let me use their shower this morning. Just bring your own soap unless you want to smell like Bath & Body Works' 'Champagne Toast' for a week."
Hailey bit her lip hard enough to taste copper. "You just... walked into another dorm's bathroom?"
"Sweet baby Beyoncé, it's not a speakeasy." Jess wiped toothpaste on her robe sleeve. "Text Lila if you're nervous. Or better yet—" She tossed Hailey a loofah shaped like a cartoon strawberry. "—embrace the communal college experience. Think of it as exposure therapy for your nudity issues."Hailey hesitated, clutching the loofah like a lifeline. "Fine," she muttered, grabbing her towel from the hook by the door. She glanced down at her strappy top and lounge shorts, debating whether to change but ultimately deciding it wasn’t worth the effort. Her bare feet padded softly against the cool laminate floor as she headed for the door.
"Wait," Jess called after her, tossing her a small bottle of body wash. "Don’t forget this unless you want to smell like Lila’s 'Champagne Toast' forever."
Hailey caught it with a grimace. "Thanks, I guess." She paused at the threshold, glancing back at Jess. "You’re sure this is... normal? Just using someone else’s bathroom?"
Jess rolled her eyes. "It’s college, not a spy mission. Go before you psych yourself out."
Taking a deep breath, Hailey stepped into the hallway, the towel slung over her shoulder. The air conditioning hit her damp skin, sending a shiver down her spine. She hurried down the stairs, her bare feet silent against the steps, and knocked on the door to the second-floor girls' bathroom, unaware of what such a decision would lead her to.
The doorknob rattled as Hailey fumbled with her key, shoulders sagging under the weight of her overstuffed backpack. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck where her ponytail clung like a golden rope, the late afternoon sun streaming through the hallway windows making the third-floor dorm feel more like a sauna. She practically fell into room 308, kicking the door shut with her heel before dropping her bag with a loud thud that made the laminate floors tremble.
"Welcome home, workaholic," called a voice from the kitchenette. Jess leaned against the mini fridge holding a popsicle, her box braids piled into a pineapple atop her head. The metallic click-click of her acrylic nails tapping the refrigerator door punctuated the words. "What's today's casualty count? Two midterms? Three lab reports?"
Hailey groaned, peeling her damp t-shirt away from her sports bra. "Professor Keating sprung a pop quiz on Baroque composers. After two hours of ballet technique." She yanked the hair tie loose, blonde strands cascading over shoulders still tense from holding fifth position. "I swear that man times his surprises for when I'm dehydrated enough to see musical notes floating in my peripheral vision."
Jess smirked, taking a slow lick of her cherry popsicle. Red juice dripped down her wrist. "Shouldn't you be used to pain? Isn't 'suffering for art' like, the official motto of dance majors?"
"It's athletes," Hailey corrected, bending to untie her sneakers with fingers still trembling from hours of pliés. "Dance is sport and art. You wouldn't last a day in my leotard."
"Don't threaten me with a good time." Jess's eyes tracked the way Hailey's cutoff jean shorts rode up as she crouched, revealing crescent moons of pale thigh usually hidden beneath baggy denim. "Though speaking of fashion choices...when are you retiring the Amish couture? The boys at Sigma Chi keep asking if I'm rooming with a lumberjack or a lesbian."
Hailey froze mid-shoe removal, one bare foot hovering awkwardly above the floor. A flush crept up her neck—that particular shade of pink Jess had come to recognize as Hailey's tell whenever conversations veered toward bodies or boys. "I like being comfortable," she muttered, focusing intently on arranging her sneakers by the door. "Not everyone needs to dress like they're auditioning for Love Island."
The microwave clock blinked 4:47 PM in toxic green numbers as Hailey sank onto the secondhand sofa. She gulped from her water bottle, condensation dripping onto her shirt and darkening the already damp fabric. Through the window, the campus quad buzzed with Frisbee games and skateboarders, a world of effortless laughter that seemed galaxies away from her reality of rehearsal schedules and scholarship requirements.
Jess leaned over the back of the couch, her dangling silver earrings brushing Hailey's shoulder. "You know I'm just messing with you, right? But seriously..." She poked a bicep that tensed reflexively. "You're hiding a banging rig under all that flannel. These guns could arm a militia."
"Stop!" Hailey squirmed away, nearly upending her water bottle. Her laugh came out higher than usual. "Why are Americanos affecting you like tequila shots today?"
"Because someone needs to prep you for parties before rush week!" Jess twirled across the stained carpet, her cropped sweater riding up to reveal a sliver of cocoa-colored stomach. "Imagine it—you in some skin-tight bodysuit, rocking that 'accidental Olympian' vibe. Campus players would line up to catch your bouquet."
The mental image sent a pulse of something hot and uncomfortable through Hailey's chest. She busied herself unrolling her yoga mat, fingers smoothing out the creases with unnecessary force. The familiar smell of rubber and lavender-scented cleaner grounded her. "I need to prep for tomorrow's audition, not frat mixers. Madame Dupré said my grand jeté was landing like a 'wounded flamingo' last week."
Jess flopped onto an armchair upholstered in what might have been dinosaurs or possibly abstract mushrooms. "You're really doing another solo session? We just got rid of that weird hip-hop playlist you kept moaning through."
"It's core conditioning!" Hailey stood with her back to the room, hands already reaching for the hem of her shirt. She paused, shoulders tightening. "Don't watch."
"Too late." Jess fanned herself dramatically. "The people demand a peek at those tight abs!"
Hailey's snort sounded more nervous than dismissive. She tugged the oversized shirt over her head in one quick motion, revealing a sports bra the color of old dishwater. For three breathless seconds, her bare midriff glowed in the afternoon light—pale as milk with faint muscle striations rippling beneath skin still glazed with a dancer's sweat.
Jess whistled low and long. "Girl, those abs could grate cheese. When do we start selling tickets?"
"Shut up!" Hailey scrambled into a cropped tank top so fast she nearly tore the straps. The elastic waistband of her shorts snapped against her hips as she shimmied them off, revealing legs that tapered from sculpted thighs to delicate ankles. A strawberry-shaped birthmark on her left calf—usually hidden—peeked out from beneath black cotton briefs.
Jess hurled a throw pillow. "Real talk—how are you single? Like is there a secret fiancé back in Idaho? An evil twin locked in a ballet academy basement?"
Hailey dropped into a straddle stretch, forehead nearly touching the mat as her voice emerged muffled. "Between classes and rehearsals, when exactly would I—" She winced as her hamstring twinged. "—be swiping through Tinder?"
"Not even a sneaky dorm hookup?" Jess wiggled eyebrows that had been filled in to Insta-perfection. "No midnight rendezvous during fire drills? No study sessions that end with—"
The sound of Hailey's palms slapping the mat cut Jess off mid-sentence. As she flowed into downward dog, the cropped tank top rode up, revealing a strip of her lower back where muscles rippled like waves beneath her pale skin. Her ponytail swept the floor as she shifted her weight, the black cotton briefs clinging to her sculpted glutes that flexed with every movement. Even in casual wear, her body was a masterpiece of athletic grace—every curve and line honed by years of discipline.
Jess’s eyes lingered on the way Hailey’s toned arms supported her weight effortlessly, the faint sheen of sweat making her skin glow in the afternoon light. "Damn, Hailey," Jess said, her voice softer now, almost reverent. "You’re like... a walking sculpture. How is it even possible you’re still a virgin?"
Hailey froze mid-stretch, her face flushing a deep crimson that spread from her cheeks down to her neck. She quickly adjusted her tank top, as if trying to hide the evidence of her embarrassment. "W-what makes you think that?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jess leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. "Oh, come on. You’re shy as hell around guys, you train like you’re prepping for the Olympics, and you’ve never once mentioned a hookup or even a date. It’s not exactly rocket science."
Hailey’s blush deepened as she shifted into a seated stretch, her long legs folding gracefully beneath her. She avoided Jess’s gaze, focusing instead on the pattern of her yoga mat. "It’s not like I’m avoiding it or anything," she muttered. "I just... I want it to mean something, you know? Not just some random thing because everyone else is doing it."
Jess’s smirk softened into a smile. "Fair enough. But seriously, with a body like that, you could have your pick of anyone on campus. Just saying."
Hailey rolled her eyes, though the pink tinge in her cheeks betrayed her embarrassment. "Thanks, but I’ll stick to my to-do list for now. One step at a time."
The room fell quiet again, the only sounds the creak of Hailey’s joints and the distant hum of campus life outside. Jess watched her roommate with a mix of admiration and amusement, wondering how someone so stunning could be so unaware of it.
Hailey held her plank position, sweat dripping onto the mat. "Can we talk about literally anything else?"
The shower faucet screamed like a banshee when Hailey turned it on twenty minutes later—a shuddering metallic wail followed by nothing but dusty air puffing from the showerhead. She stared at the dry tiles, water bottle clutched to her chest as post-workout endorphins drained from her body like bathwater.
"Jess?" Her towel-wrapped knuckles rapped against her roommate's closed door. "Why does our shower sound like a lawnmower giving birth?"
Door hinges squeaked. Jess peered out with toothpaste foaming at the corners of her mouth. "Oh crap, forgot to tell you—pipes burst in the west wing. Maintenance said no showers till tomorrow."
Hailey gripped her towel tighter beneath her armpits. "But I'm..." She glanced down at herself—sports bra soaked through, hair clinging to her neck in salty strands. "I can't sleep like this. How’d you wash up?"
"Second floor girls' bathroom." Jess shrugged like she’d suggested borrowing a hair dryer. "Lila Tanaka let me use their shower this morning. Just bring your own soap unless you want to smell like Bath & Body Works' 'Champagne Toast' for a week."
Hailey bit her lip hard enough to taste copper. "You just... walked into another dorm's bathroom?"
"Sweet baby Beyoncé, it's not a speakeasy." Jess wiped toothpaste on her robe sleeve. "Text Lila if you're nervous. Or better yet—" She tossed Hailey a loofah shaped like a cartoon strawberry. "—embrace the communal college experience. Think of it as exposure therapy for your nudity issues."Hailey hesitated, clutching the loofah like a lifeline. "Fine," she muttered, grabbing her towel from the hook by the door. She glanced down at her strappy top and lounge shorts, debating whether to change but ultimately deciding it wasn’t worth the effort. Her bare feet padded softly against the cool laminate floor as she headed for the door.
"Wait," Jess called after her, tossing her a small bottle of body wash. "Don’t forget this unless you want to smell like Lila’s 'Champagne Toast' forever."
Hailey caught it with a grimace. "Thanks, I guess." She paused at the threshold, glancing back at Jess. "You’re sure this is... normal? Just using someone else’s bathroom?"
Jess rolled her eyes. "It’s college, not a spy mission. Go before you psych yourself out."
Taking a deep breath, Hailey stepped into the hallway, the towel slung over her shoulder. The air conditioning hit her damp skin, sending a shiver down her spine. She hurried down the stairs, her bare feet silent against the steps, and knocked on the door to the second-floor girls' bathroom, unaware of what such a decision would lead her to.
36-40, F
