“God damn it, the bloody hot water isn’t running!” Cay shouted from behind the ajar shower door.
“Have you tried turning both of the knobs?” Judas called out while unpacking on the flimsy round table.
“Yes! Can you check if there’s anything wrong with the boiler?” Cay’s voice carried a shivering urgency.
Judas checked the boiler. From what his untrained eyes could tell, nothing appeared to be wrong. The switches had already been set to the "on" position before they arrived, and the pipes running through it weren’t visibly obstructed. He simply didn’t know enough to help. Cay, frustrated, stepped under the shower anyway, only to be met with a piercing stream of icy water.
It took nearly ten minutes for him to finish, hopping in and out of the freezing downpour, unsure whether to endure or escape it. When Cay emerged, Judas glanced at him with a mix of pity and restraint. Pale and shivering, Cay nonetheless looked more awake than before. Judas handed him a steaming cup of Irish cream instant coffee.
“We have a kettle,” Judas muttered with relief.
“Remind me to call Suju later about this nonsense,” Cay said, wrapping both hands around the mug and taking a large sip.
“In the meantime, I’ll pass,” Judas replied, eyes flicking warily toward the shower.
“I bet the people in the dorm are better off than we are,” Cay grumbled.
They headed out after finishing the snacks Judas had packed in Rome. Ignoring Suju’s suggested itinerary, they made their way to the Arsenale, a nearby military dock and historic site Cay had found on his GPS.
They sat on the stone steps of an arched bridge opposite the naval yard, peering through the narrow space between two sharp watchtowers. Uniformed personnel in crisp white navy attire crossed the wooden bridge intermittently. The ancient shipyard—still in strategic military use—carried echoes of history that stretched back before the Napoleonic wars.
But stale pancetta and cheap dried meat could only go so far. Judas volunteered to find better food nearby, and soon returned with freshly toasted vegetarian flatbreads. They lingered for a while, eating slowly as the sun climbed toward its peak. Dreading the heat, they ducked inside the Naval History Museum.
It wasn’t large, but it held just enough to be interesting: small fishing boats, historical ship parts, and a mini-destroyer from the pre–World War I era. Most exhibit signs were in Italian, so the tour was short.
Re-energized, they decided to walk along the coast despite the midday sun. Cay welcomed the sweat—it helped wash away the sour memories of Rome.716Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyyhKPy75eN
Jenna didn’t love Cay solely for sex—far from it. In fact, that was the least of it. His subtle gestures, his quiet concern, and even his clinging tendencies were what made him stand out. These were traits she and her friends all agreed were rare and valuable.
Despite Cay's efforts to shield his past, Jenna had slowly wormed her way into his thoughts, especially at night when everything else faded into silence. Their intimacy felt most alive then.
Her love followed its own logic: “Love me back when I love you. Love me even more when I don’t,” she once told him. And she always answered his call. But their shift from passion to peace hadn’t been easy. They adjusted in the end—their nightly intimacy became every few days, and unanswered texts no longer stirred panic.
Eventually, the spontaneous day trips waned. No more one-day sprints to nearby towns like before. But one trip stood out: Glastonbury. Not for the festival—it wasn’t June yet—but for what happened at the Tor.
There, beneath a bright sun and gentle breeze, they witnessed a man proposing to his partner. The romance of the moment overwhelmed Cay, and he turned to Jenna, who met him with a kiss. Passion, it seemed, was contagious.
That night, the warmth lingered. They joked, played, and climaxed again and again. Afterward, lying beside one another, Jenna asked, “Have you ever thought about marrying someone?”
Caught off guard, Cay nonetheless smiled and answered, “Yes. You.”
They were preparing to move out of their noisy residence hall and into a mouldy, modest home in Twerton. It wasn’t perfect, but they didn’t mind. They’d be together.
Gordon, a Creative Music student who had quietly tolerated their nighttime escapades, agreed to join them. A quiet housemate was ideal. The couple hoped their new home would offer the same love with fewer interruptions.
On moving day, Kuan and Dylon—Jenna’s parents—arrived to help. It was Cay’s first official meeting with them. Kuan skipped formalities and pulled him into a hug before Cay could even extend a hand to Dylon.
“So, where shall we begin?” Dylon asked, eyeing Jenna’s impressive pile of luggage with a mix of amusement and dread.
ns216.73.216.143da2
