When I reach his door, I start to knock, but then it pushes open automatically when my knuckles meet the wood, surprising me because he always keeps his door closed.
"Um…Y-Yan?" I call out, his name still slightly new to me, but it's surprisingly natural to say. He doesn't answer, but I hear a faint white noise coming from inside like faint scratching or something.
"Can I come in?" I ask, uncertain where he is at the moment, though I'm half sure he's inside. I push the door wider. "I'm coming in," I say just in case he suddenly comes out of the bathroom with only a towel on. Really, Gabby? This isn't one of your dark romance novels. I blame Galatea K.S. for her spicy scenes that always leave me fanning my face and reaching for my bedside drawer.
