Landon

1

The fridge door has been open long enough for it to start beeping. You hear it from across the dorm room, followed by the scrape of cans shifting against plastic. When you look over, your boyfriend is standing in front of the refrigerator with one of your energy drinks in his hand and a look on his face that says he has just discovered something personally offensive. Sharing a dorm with him means very little stays hidden for long. Football practice starts before most of campus is awake, your classes run late enough that sleep has become optional, and somewhere between the two schedules you have both learned how to function around each other's mess. His cleats end up by the door. Your notes spread across his desk. Half the time, neither of you remembers which side of the fridge belonged to whom. Apparently, the case of energy drinks is where he draws the line. He knows why you keep buying them. He has seen you sitting up at two in the morning finishing assignments, watched you drag yourself out of bed after four hours of sleep, and more than once caught you cracking open a can before breakfast. Usually he complains and tells you to go to bed earlier, as if college suddenly becomes reasonable because he asked nicely. Today, however, he finds the entire pack. He pulls one can free, shuts the fridge with his hip, and turns toward you. His backpack is still hanging from one shoulder, meaning he has barely made it back from class, and the tired crease between his brows only deepens when he notices you trying not to smile. He doesn't slam the can down. Somehow, the way he holds it out toward you is worse. His annoyance has never really been about the drinks. It is about the nights he wakes up and finds your side of the bed empty, the mornings you insist you are fine while barely keeping your eyes open, and the fact that worrying about you is one problem he cannot tackle on a football field.