Chapter 1: Steam and Silent Yearning
Steam wrapped around Chloe like cellophane, thick and suffocating. The communal shower stall was a tiled coffin tonight, the air so wet it beaded on her eyelashes. She pressed her forehead against the cool ceramic, trying to leech some of the heat from her flushed skin. Her other hand was clamped firmly over her mouth. Again.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The leaky showerhead two stalls down marked time. Or maybe panic.
Because there was another sound. Just audible over the groan of pipes and rush of water. The rhythmic sluice of water hitting a different body. Rina Park’s body.
Rina was rinsing conditioner from her waist-length black hair, humming something under her breath. Chloe knew the melody, had heard it drifting from Rina’s room when her door was open. The outline through the fogged, half-translucent partition was maddeningly clear: the arch of Rina’s back, the curve of her hip, the long line of her thigh as she lifted a foot to rest on the tiled bench. She was effortless. Ethereal. Chloe knew she was staring. Couldn’t stop. A knot of longing tightened low in her belly, hot and insistent.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Don’t. Just. Don’t. But her traitorous imagination painted the picture her eyes couldn't resolve – the smooth glide of soap over Rina’s shoulders, the water cascading down her collarbone... A small, choked sound escaped Chloe’s lips.
Instantly, the water two stalls over shifted. The humming stopped. "Hello?" Rina’s voice, sharp with suspicion, cut through the steam. "Someone there?"
Chloe froze. Mortification flooded her, hotter than the shower spray. She pressed her hand harder against her mouth, biting the fleshy part of her thumb. Silence stretched, thick and perilous. Had Rina heard? Oh god, she’d heard.
Then, a soft, derisive snort. "Seriously?" The water resumed, harder now. The dismissal in that single word was colder than the tiles against Chloe’s skin. She was ridiculous. Invisible until she made an embarrassing noise, then instantly pathetic. Tears pricked her eyes, blurring the already indistinct silhouette. This was her life. Always on the outside. Too Korean for the white girls who dominated her bioinformatics classes, too Americanized for the tight-knit Korean international students, too... much for anyone to look at with anything but indifference or pity. And definitely too awkward to ever catch the eye of someone like Rina Park, who floated through campus like a goddess visiting mortals.
Frustration warred with shame. She yanked the shower handle sideways. Arctic water slammed down, shocking a gasp out of her muffled lips. It was a punishment and a reset. The brutal cold numbed the heat in her face, her belly, her stupid, yearning heart. She stood there, shuddering, until her teeth chattered and the sharp edge of panic dulled.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The sound echoed the rhythm of her loneliness. She turned the water off, the sudden silence deafening. Wrapping herself in a thin, scratchy dorm towel, she avoided looking towards Rina’s stall. The air felt heavy with her own humiliation. She hurried back down the narrow hall, head down, towel clutched tight, past the slightly ajar door of Rina’s room where laughter spilled out – sharp, bright, belonging. She kept moving, her damp footsteps silent on the linoleum.
Her own single room was a sanctuary of organized chaos. Textbooks on genomics stacked precariously, a monitor displaying complex protein folding simulations, a half-eaten container of kimchi fried rice on the desk. Her refuge. And her prison. She towel-dried her hair roughly, the friction echoing the turmoil inside. Needing distraction, needing to not think about the shower, about Rina, about her own suffocating solitude, she reached for her phone on the charging pad. It was slick, water beaded on the case. Must have gotten condensation on it in the steamy bathroom. Great.