What is it about guy's shirts smelling nice?
Like, not even every guy's shirt would smell pleasant, but I swear, the blonde-haired boy's hoody smelt heavenly. I almost didn't want to wash it, or give it back.

My finger came away from the green material, sticky from the remains of hot chocolate.

Almost.

Nor the chocolatey scent or whatever cologne the boy used could mask his natural musk - it reminded me of early springtime in the countryside, fresh strands of grass sprouting from the moist earth, of daisies littering the emerald fields, of bubbling streams and the smell of wet rocks. His scent reminded me of life, which intrigued me to no end.

Smelling people's scents, society-based, is weird. Smelling people's scents in the grande scheme of being a literal living mammal is completely normal. I had learnt the other day in science that if somebody's significant other smells nice to them, then there is less chance of a miscarriage. There was a lot more science-y stuff to it, but I couldn't remember it at all.

So, I smelt people's clothes - and I promise it's not weird - but there certainly weren't any body odours that reminded me of life. Mostly just spices or fruits or just cooked pasta. But not life.

I made it home before I even realised I was walking down my apartment building's hallway, pulling the key out from my pocket and shoving it into the lock.

"I'm back, mum!" I called out as I shut the door behind me.
"So soon?" she replied, poking her head out of the kitchen. "You only just left. I thought you were out with Naomi and Aaliyah?"

"I was, but I accidentally broke my board," I confessed sheepishly with a shrug. "Claire thought it would be best if I went home."

My mother furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.
"Did she just?" she asked cryptically, scooping a spoon around in a carton of yoghurt. "I'm not sure if she's such a good influence on you, Y/n. She just appears out of nowhere, and suddenly she's telling you what to do?"

I snorted, shaking my head as I slipped off my shoes.
"Not true. Claire's the sweetest person I know!" I said with a grin. I raised the green hoody in one hand and jostled it. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a stranger's hoody to wash."

Mum dropped the spoon she was using for her yoghurt.
"What?"

"I'll tell you soon," I called from down the hallway as I turned into the laundry and with a last whiff, I reluctantly tossed the green item of clothing into the washing machine. After I turned it on to the right setting, I wandered my way back to my mother, who had her arms crossed, eyebrows raised expectedly.

"So, what's this about washing a stranger's hoody?" she asked humourlessly. I cringed, slouching into my shoulders as I bit my lip.

"I- uh, may have accidentally hit a stranger with my skateboard, and he spilt hot chocolate over himself because of it," I confessed with red cheeks, shifting my weight between my feet uncertainly as I burnt holes into the kitchen flooring from my embarrassed glare. "Oh, and uh, the hot chocolate was mine. He was trying to return it to me, but I got a fright and whacked him on the head with my board, which then broke."

My mother stared at me for a while, not doing anything.
"Where's your board?" she finally asked after a period of silence.

"With the guy," I replied, shrugging. "He said he'd fix it."

"But you hit him."

"That's what I said!"

"What's his name?"

I blinked in surprise. I never... asked him for his name. Literally, the first thing you do when you meet someone new. I slapped my forehead in exasperation.

"In retrospect," I interrupted my mother's laughter. "He didn't ask for mine, either."

Mum shook her head, still chuckling as she wiped under an eye.
"And how are you going to contact said stranger to return each other's stuff?"

I chewed my bottom lip. I'm sure we had a conversation about contacting each other...

Contacting... contacts...

"He put himself into my contacts!" I announced heroically, as if I cracked the DiVinci Code.

"Look, here it is," I said as I pulled out my phone and got onto recently sent. He messaged himself 'skateboard girl.'
"Lloyd. That's his name. Lloyd."

My mother frowned in consideration, with her eyebrows raised. She placed a hand on her chin as she assessed the blank wall.

"Lloyd, huh?" she repeated, nodding slowly. "Sounds like a cute name. How old was he?"

"Mum!" I cried in indignation, but even my reprimand couldn't hide the burning blush that peppered my cheeks. I twisted the hem of my shirt in my hand nervously.

"Oh, come on," she chuckled, throwing her used yoghurt carton in the bin and placing the spoon in the sink with a metallic clatter. "Just answer my question."

I stared at the ground, rocking on my feet. I shrugged.
"I dunno," I mumbled helplessly. "Probably around twenty?"

I was hoping the distinct age gap that I presented my mother with - Lloyd's twenty to my seventeen - would be enough to derail her from her tracks.

It wasn't.

"And he took your skateboard to fix it?" she asked, a growing grin on her face. There was a spark in her eyes that I didn't particularly like the look of. "That's so fucking cute."

"Mum!" I cried again, burying my face in my hands as I turned on my heel and left the room. "Ugh, I want to run away to France."

"Make sure you go to Paris and take Lloyd!" Mum called from the kitchen, a heavily amused tone in her voice. "It's not called the City of Love for nothing!"

I growled loudly, which only spurred on more laughter. I should have stayed silent.

I stepped into my room, my sanctuary, my haven. Against the wall was my queen sized bed, and above that, the window that looked over Ninjago City. I was lucky enough to have a window that I'm able to crawl out of and sit on the metal grated fire escape that ran down the length of our building. Whenever I couldn't sleep, I'd clamber my way through the window and just watch the city, and the occasional stars that seemed to poke their way through the polluted clouds above, all the while listening to music. It was... soothing.

A ding from the washing machine alerted me that Lloyd's hoody was finished being washed. I gave one last look out the window at the midday sun, and left for the laundry room.

I grabbed the soaking green hoody from the machine and placed it into the dryer, setting it for an hour. The old hunk of junk rattled precariously as it worked.

I sat down, leaning against the wall as I got out my phone. I was getting notifications from Instagram that Naomi, Aaliyah, Claire and other people that consisted of our group of friends had posted. I scrolled through my feed, liking their posts until I came across Aaliyah's.

She had taken a selfie, consisting of everybody in the group - a feat that was actually impressive, given the size. Her caption read 'hanging with the best people in the universe!'

I swallowed a lump of resentment. The ball of rejection that had swelled at the bottom of my stomach was back, growing at an alarming rate.

She doesn't mean anything by it. I'm still her best friend. Her caption would've been too long if she added that I had to go home. Who wants to hear that a girl had to go home?

I grinned, shaking my head at my silliness. I've known Aaliyah for years. We're practically sisters. It was just one caption.

But what if-

A interrupting ding emitted from my phone. It shook me from my thoughts. I glanced down at the screen, and my stomach did a kick flip.

It was from Lloyd.

Feverishly, as if my life depended on it, I opened up messages and clicked on his name. There, he had sent me a text.

'Hey, it's Lloyd. You probably already knew that because of my contact, though. I never caught your name.'

The furious blush on my cheeks returned.

'It's Y/n :) ' I replied, then crushed my phone against my chest in regret. Was the smiley face too forward? Or not? I don't know. I have no clue on texting guys. Or cute guys who I accidentally hit in the face for that matter.

'Is your face okay?' I texted, hoping for a conversation starter. I lowered my phone as I stared at the green hoody in the dryer. It flung around and around in it's circular cage. A ding indicated Lloyd's response.

'Ah, good. Now I can change your contact from pretty park girl to your name.'

'My face is fine, thanks haha. My brothers couldn't believe I got bested by a girl.'

I bit back a grin, shaking my head as I leant it back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. I turned my head back towards my screen as I punched in a reply.

'Brothers, huh?' I texted. 'How many?'

Lloyd's response was immediate.
'Not biologically brothers. We're all just really close, I guess. There's five of us, and one of them has a sister that hangs out with us, too.'

I smiled softly as I replied.
'Sounds nice, how did you guys meet?'
I gritted my teeth. That was weird.
'Sorry, was that too forward?'

'Not at all :) it's really hard to explain how we all met. Us meeting was more along the lines of destiny than anything else.'

I huffed in soft amusement as I typed a reply. He's too cute, holy shit.

'That's pretty special.' I replied.

'Yeah, they're cool. They want to meet you.'

I froze. His friends want to meet me? That soon? All I did was literally hit him on the forehead with a skateboard.

'Seriously?'

'Seriously. You don't have to if you don't want to, of course,' he replied.

'No, no. I'll happily meet up with you guys somewhere. Just warn them that I might accidentally hit them with a skateboard.'

'Haha! Consider them warned ;) '

My heart jumped. He sent a winky face. What does a winky face mean?

'So, what about you?' he pressed.

'Huh?'

'Your friends? That was a big group you were hanging out with.'

My stomach dropped when I remembered Aaliyah's Instagram caption. I shook my head. She didn't mean it!

'Oh, I'm only close to a couple of them. People kind of just kept adding to the group.'

'That's cool. Hey, you want to meet up Saturday? I can give you back your skateboard then.'

'Yeah, sure,' I replied. 'Your hoody is just in the dryer.'

'Ah, cool. Thank you!' Lloyd texted. I grinned again as the drying process came to an end.

'Hey, anything for the guy I hit with my skateboard.'

'Haha! Hey, I've gtg. I'll text you later.'

With the spoken promise, Lloyd left. I inhaled a deep, relaxing breath as I retrieved his hoody from the dryer.

And although there was an overwhelming scent of my detergent, underneath that there was the unmistakeable musk of life.