Meeting another new flatmate

You clutch at your chest, trying to calm your breathing down. You've been standing at your bedroom door in your pyjamas for the last ten minutes, willing yourself to open it and step outside. But every time you try to push, you're knocked back into a chaotic thought spiral.

What the hell are you going to say if you run into Broden or Maisie? Like, last night was fun, but where is it going from here? Was it a one-time thing, or are you a part of their blatantly open relationship now? For that matter, what if you run into Adrian?! That is going to be awkward! Ugh, and you can't avoid him, he's gonna be wanting sex at some point today. You knew this obligation was going to be more of a burden than a blessing, he hasn't even called it in yet and it already feels like a chore.

You take another deep breath. Remember last night. You pushed past your inhibitions. You stopped holding yourself back. All you have to do... is turn off your mind.

You are not thoughts. You are limbs. And limbs love opening doors and walking. Nothing can stop them. Nothing can stop you.

You're in the corridor before you realise it. So far, no encounters. The kitchen/common room is just at the end of the hallway.

All you have to do is walk past room seven. (Adrian, awkward...)

Then room six. (Maisie's room. The room where I... we... ahh don't think about it!)

Then room five. (Broden's bedroom. The room where Broden's dick slee- where Broden sleeps! Maybe? He does drink a lot of caffeine...)

The other four rooms you also pass, as they line the opposite side of the corridor. But they don't interest you as much, since you don't know who lives there. Yet.

You hear shuffling from inside the common room. The sizzle of what sounds like bacon cooking. There's no way you're getting breakfast without socialising one way or another, it seems. Sigh. Conversations should be outlawed during morning hours.

Your mind starts racing again. Is it a stranger, or someone from last night? You don't even know which you'd prefer.

Hesitantly, you crack open the door and peek inside, trying to catch a glimpse of the occupant before they spot you. Which turns out to be a good thing.

Because it's a raptor.

There's a raptor in the kitchen.