Knop blinked at the ceiling a few more times, the sticky mess in his shorts a harsh reminder that his body didn't give a damn about reality. He sat up slowly, the couch creaking under him like it was judging his life choices. Max lifted his head again, ears perked, but then flopped back down with a huff, as if saying, "Not my problem, dude." The TV droned on with some post-game analysis, but Knop barely heard it. His mind was still half-stuck in that bathroom, her whispers echoing in his ears like a bad hangover.
He glanced at the clock on the wall—8:15 AM. Shit. School started in forty-five minutes, and he hadn't even showered. With a groan, he pushed himself off the couch, ignoring the damp spot he'd have to clean later. Tenner's door was still shut; the guy was probably deep in some lovey-dovey call with his girl, forgetting the world existed. Lucky bastard.
Knop shuffled to the bathroom—the real one, not the steamy dream version. He stripped off his shorts, tossed them in the hamper, and cranked the shower to cold. The water hit him like a slap, shocking his system awake. He stood there, letting it run over his face, trying to wash away the fog. But every time he closed his eyes, there she was: Madame Teelh, her red dress hiked up, her body pressed against his. He shook his head, lathered up with whatever cheap soap was on the shelf—smelled like fake pine—and scrubbed hard, as if he could erase the obsession.
By 8:40, he was out, towel around his waist, rummaging through his room for clean clothes. Faded jeans, a black t-shirt that said "Miami Vibes" in cracked letters, and his beat-up sneakers. He grabbed his backpack—stuffed with half-finished notes and a textbook he hadn't cracked open in days—and headed to the kitchen. Quick breakfast: a banana from the counter that was more brown than yellow, and a swig of orange juice straight from the carton. Max followed him, tail wagging hopefully, so Knop tossed him a dog treat from the cabinet.
"See ya, buddy," he muttered, scratching Max behind the ears. The dog woofed softly, like he understood the struggle.
Outside, the Miami morning hit him full force—humid air thick as soup, the sun already blazing down on the palm-lined streets. Their apartment building was a rundown complex in South Beach, close enough to the ocean that you could smell the salt, but far enough from the tourist spots that rent wasn't insane. Knop hopped on his bike, an old fixie he'd fixed up himself, and pedaled toward school. The ride was his ritual: dodging potholes, weaving through traffic, the wind whipping his hair back. It cleared his head a bit, but not enough. Thoughts of her kept creeping in—how she'd looked over her shoulder in the dream, that hungry smile.
Miami High was a sprawling campus with white stucco buildings and a courtyard full of kids milling around like ants. By the time Knop locked his bike to the rack, the bell was ringing for first period. He jogged inside, backpack slung over one shoulder, nodding to a few guys from the basketball team.
"Yo, Knop! You look like shit, man," called out Rico, his best friend besides Tenner. Rico was leaning against a locker, tall and lanky with a fade haircut and a perpetual grin. He was munching on a breakfast burrito, sauce dripping down his chin.
"Thanks, asshole. Rough night," Knop replied, bumping fists.
Rico laughed. "Yeah? Party or girl trouble?"
"Neither. Just... studying." Knop lied, but Rico didn't buy it.
"Studying my ass. You got that zombie look again. Let me guess—dream girl keeping you up?"
Knop shot him a warning glance as they walked to homeroom. "Shut up about that. Not here."
Homeroom was the usual chaos: kids yelling across the room, phones buzzing despite the no-cell rule, Mrs. Alvarez at the front trying to take attendance over the noise. Knop slid into his seat next to Sarah, a cute brunette from his math class who'd been flirting with him off and on. She smiled, twirling a strand of hair.
"Hey, stranger. You ready for that pop quiz in calc?"
Knop's stomach dropped. "Quiz? What quiz?"
Sarah rolled her eyes. "The one Mr. Patel mentioned last week? Derivatives and shit?"
"Damn. I forgot." He hadn't forgotten—he just hadn't paid attention. His mind had been elsewhere, replaying fantasies instead of formulas.
Sarah leaned closer, her perfume sweet and flowery. "You need help? We could study after school."
Knop forced a smile. She was hot, no doubt—curves in all the right places, laugh that could light up a room. But she wasn't her. "Maybe. I'll let you know."
The announcements crackled over the intercom midway through homeroom. Principal Ramirez's voice boomed out, all fake enthusiasm.
"Good morning, Miami High! A few quick updates: Spirit Week starts next Monday—get your themes ready. And for our seniors, remember, the final baccalaureate exams are now scheduled in exactly three months. That's right, May 30th. Start prepping now; your futures depend on it!"
The room groaned collectively. Three months? Knop felt a knot tighten in his chest. He'd thought it was sooner, like next week or something. But three months meant more time to screw up, more nights lost to dreams that left him wrecked. Rico leaned over from the row behind.
"Three months? Plenty of time to party first, right?"
"Yeah," Knop muttered. "Plenty."
The rest of the morning blurred by. English class: debating some book about lost love that hit too close to home. Knop zoned out, doodling in his notebook—sketches of a woman in a red dress, her back turned, mysterious. History: Mr. Gomez droning on about the Cuban Missile Crisis, but Knop's mind wandered to crises of his own, like how to stop obsessing over a woman he barely knew.
Lunch was in the courtyard, under the shade of palm trees rustling in the breeze. Knop grabbed a tray—burger, fries, soda—and joined Rico and a few others at their usual table: Jamal, the quiet gamer kid, and Mia, Rico's on-again-off-again fling who was always up for drama.
"Man, three months till exams? I'm doomed," Jamal said, poking at his salad. "My parents are already on my case."
Mia laughed, flipping her long black hair. "At least you guys have time. I heard Knop here's been 'studying' extra hard." She winked at him, teasing.
Knop smirked. "Yeah? What'd you hear?"
"Oh, nothing. Just that you've been spacing out in class, staring at the window like you're waiting for someone to walk by."
Rico jumped in. "He's got a crush. Big time. On that hot neighbor lady."
"Shut up, Rico!" Knop punched his arm lightly, but the table erupted in laughs.
Mia leaned in, eyes sparkling. "Ooh, details! Is she like, MILF level?"
Knop felt his face heat up. "None of your business. And no, it's not like that."
But it was. Exactly like that. The banter continued—Jamal talking about some new video game where you conquered kingdoms, Rico bragging about a date gone wrong, Mia sharing gossip about who was hooking up with who. Knop joined in, cracking jokes, but inside he was miles away. Three months. What if he actually talked to her? What if the dreams became real?
Afternoon classes dragged: Math quiz he bombed, science lab where he nearly mixed the wrong chemicals because his head was foggy. By the final bell, he was exhausted, brain fried from fighting the constant pull of his thoughts.
The ride home was slower, the sun lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the streets. Miami buzzed around him—cars honking, tourists in flip-flops, the distant crash of waves. He pedaled past the beach, smelling salt and sunscreen, but his mind was fixed on one thing: home. And her.
As he turned into the apartment complex, there she was.
Madame Teelh, in the small garden patch in front of her unit. She had a hose in hand, watering the hibiscus bushes that bloomed red and pink under her care. She wore a simple sundress—yellow, flowing to her knees, hugging her curves just enough to make his throat dry. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame her face. She hummed softly to herself, oblivious to the world, water sparkling in the late afternoon light.
Knop slowed his bike, heart hammering like in the dream. She looked up, caught his eye, and smiled—that warm, effortless smile that hit him like a gut punch.
"Hey, Knop. Long day at school?"
He nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah. You know how it is."
She laughed lightly, turning off the hose. "I do. Hang in there—exams will be over before you know it."
If only she knew how much he wished for something else to be over. Or to begin.
He waved awkwardly, pedaled the last few yards to his door, and slipped inside. The apartment was quiet—Tenner probably out, Max asleep. Knop dropped his bag, collapsed on his bed, and stared at the ceiling again.
Three months. Plenty of time for things to change.
Or for the obsession to swallow him whole.