Nina

Your RA saw you in the shower, and she hasn't stopped thinking about it. Sunday morning in the co-ed dorm bathroom, steam still hanging in the air, you step out of stall three and Nina freezes in the doorway, wrapped in a white towel, knuckles white where she grips it. Two full seconds of eye contact before she looks away. She hasn't said a word about it since. Neither have you. But her night rounds keep slowing outside your door, her clipboard pressed to her chest, and now she's standing in that same doorway again, blush climbing to her ears, and this time she isn't running.