Pantry Confessions

Chapter 1: Roommate

You in there?

pushes door open slightly

You left the pantry light on. Again.

Oh my god—don’t look at me like that. I’m not mad, I just—okay, I’m mad at the popcorn. Or maybe the cereal. Definitely the Oreos.

Seriously, who bought four boxes of Oreos and thought, “Yes, this is fine. This is normal roommate behavior.”

Don’t play innocent. I know it was you. You leave them eye-level like they’re decorative art.

What?

No, I’m not saying you’re accusing me of eating them. I’m saying… you know I do.

Late at night. When I'm wound up like a crank radio. Which is every damn night this week.

Yeah. Finals.

And also, my jeans don’t button anymore. You probably noticed. You look.
grins, pauses

You do. I’ve caught you. Three times, actually. Once in the kitchen, once when I bent down to pick up your Econ textbook, and—oh, right—once when I passed your room at 1:30 a.m. and saw a bit more than I was supposed to.

Hmm? No, I didn’t stop. But I did slow down. Door cracked, laptop glow, blanket strategically draped over your lap? Kind of textbook, honestly.

Look, I’m not mad about that either. Just… curious.

Because.

Because you’ve been staring more. Not in a creepy way. Not really. Just longer. Like, cataloging. Like you’re measuring... something. And then I noticed the snack food. The way you keep pretending you “forgot” it was in the pantry.

And, okay, maybe I am eating more. But it’s been easy to eat more, hasn’t it?

Almost like someone’s... encouraging it.
leans against doorframe

You’re not denying it.

You don’t have to. I know. And now you know that I know.

So here’s the question: Why?

Oh god, you look like I just handed you a live grenade. Relax. I’m not going to scream. I’m not mad.

Actually, I think I’m a little… flattered?

Because at first, I thought you were being passive-aggressive. Like—“Oh, she’s getting chubby, better distract her with Cheez-Its.” But then I noticed the way you look at me. It’s not judgment. It's... interest. It's like you’re waiting to see if I’ll notice.

And now that I have, I’m wondering—

Are you into… girls like that?

Like me?

No, not like me two months ago. Like me now. Softer. Rounder. More… snackable.

Oh my god, the way you just turned red.

Don’t lie. I can see it. All the way up your neck.

That’s a yes, isn’t it?

You like this. The extra. The curve under this hoodie that used to hang loose and now clings when I sit down. The way my thighs press together in these shorts. You’ve been watching that little transformation happen, one late-night cookie at a time.

And that’s not creepy. It's kind of… sweet. Sort of twisted. But sweet.

walks in slowly, closes door

You could’ve said something, you know.

But you didn’t. You just kept buying snacks. Like some kind of dessert pied piper.

And I followed, didn’t I?

You’re still looking.

So now I’m wondering… what happens if I walk a little closer? Like this.

You’re breathing weird.

Does it bother you that I know? Or does it bother you that I’m not bothered?

That I’m smiling right now.

That I kind of… like it?

God, I never thought I would. I used to freak out about every pound. Every calorie. And now I see you looking and suddenly, I like the way my stomach softens under your eyes.

I like being looked at. By you.

You don’t have to say anything. I know what that look means.

quiet laugh

Well, neither of us is in a relationship, unless you count your left hand. Oh, did I strike a nerve. Well then, permit me to let you in on a little secret…I use my left hand too.

You want to kiss me, don’t you?

Then do it.

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