It’s a faulted tendency of humankind to relate things to themselves, and true to her own sense of ( dubious ) humanity, she can’t help but wonder how alike she and the girl are — if their similarity extends past long, dark tresses and into the territory of personality and habit. Truthfully, it’s less about Aparna and more about her roommate; selfishly so, her own curiosity refuses to rest until she knows whether or not Ben had simply found a replacement Zuleika Sandoval, or if he truly had moved on to better things.
Any shred of hope that she’d find a resemblance is quickly replaced by distinct disappointment — so, she’d managed to connect with yet another soul who said ‘sorry’ more often than any other word in the English language. The disappointment is two-fold, fuel for the fear that she has no place in her friend’s life now, and born from a separate desire, one that sinks lower than just falling victim to misery loving company: nothing made a person feel more acceptable than realizing their own ugly horror in another they found beautiful. ( And, in the aftermath of Andrea’s retribution, it had been quite some time since she’d felt acceptable, let alone desired. )
It’s then that the better, or arguably worse, part of her nature assaults her thoughts, seizing hold of her tendency to light a fire only meant to keep herself warm and burn all others. When the other reappears and heads straight to the kitchenette, Zu follows, but positions herself where Aparna can’t simply run off and escape without first encountering her. “You apologize too much,” the brunette starts on an even tone, secretive smile fixed firmly in place as she ignores the girl’s question. “Frankly, the only thing worth an apology is the fact that you’ve changed into sweatpants.” The two are not terribly far apart now, and Zu’s languid gaze travels the length of Aparna’s form, wordlessly. There’s no shame in the silence, nor in the way her eyes drink in the sight of the other, and when she speaks again, the words are accompanied by a step closer, as if daring Aparna not to look anywhere but her. “Seriously, I liked what you had on before. Anyone ever tell you that you’ve got legs for days?”
There was a sort of implicit agreement between roommates that Aparna and Ben had made when he moved in. The spare room where he settled had formerly been a studio-and-deposit combo from where both her and her ex had worked when they needed some silence or time to be alone. When she started looking for a new roommate, one of the first things she mentioned was that she wanted each bedroom to be absolutely sacred. Common spaces in the apartment were free reign but she needed to have somewhere to relax and gather her thoughts, and she was grateful she’d made that a condition as soon as Ben and her started to spend more and more time together. She also found out that the small kitchen was almost exclusively hers, too – Ben would, every once in a while, become obsessed with a certain meal or snack, but most of the time, Aparna would take over cooking and deciding what groceries to get.
Zu hadn’t been part of the plan at all, so her mere presence ( and the fact that it had interfered with what Aparna had decided would be a day of rest ) was disrupting. And then she stepped into their kitchen. Her kitchen. Aparna let out a nervous laugh and cleared her throat. She had been told she apologized too much in the past, but she couldn’t really help it. Even in that moment, all she managed to say was, “Yeah, sorry about that.” Besides Zu’s words, she could clearly hear her own heart beating so loudly that she feared it might crack her chest open and explode over the counter.
Aparna would swear she could feel Zu’s gaze burn a trail through her clothes on her skin. She would have argued that her previous outfit was anything but – and that it was stained and that her parents had raised her to welcome guests in her best attire and offer a drink and a snack and make pleasant conversation. She would have, if she’d been able to get another word out. It’s the word legs that finally forced her to look down at Zu’s body – and the second she did, a shaky breath escaped her lips and she knew she was done for. “Not really, I’m– pretty short,” was the lame excuse of an answer she mustered up. But the truth was she was no longer thinking about what others had said of her body – she could only focus on the fact that Zuleika had watched her enough to comment on it. “So, uh… You sure you don’t want a cup of coffee?” Even though she asked a question, she couldn’t tear her eyes off the woman’s body anymore.
