Chapter Two #2
“What?” Daphne asked, then realized she’d been sitting on the couch staring out the window for the last twenty minutes, still in her sleeping tank and shorts, hair still a rat’s nest on top of her head. “Crap. Yeah. Ten minutes!”
She shot up—a move that made her dizzy—and ran for the bathroom for the fastest shower of her life, which with the time constraint now meant she would not be utilizing shampoo and conditioner.
“Ten minutes!” she yelled again.
And right before she closed the door, she heard Vivian sigh.
Daphne couldn’t get into her cabin. The door unlocked just fine with her key card, but when she tried to push it open, she was met with resistance.
And this—this dark green wooden door that would only open a few inches while she stood on the log cabin’s porch between two red Adirondack chairs—was the final straw. After an hour-long ride in a train car that smelled like Doritos, all she wanted was to lie down and stare at the ceiling.
But no, she was well and truly doomed.
Never mind her useless college degree, lack of financial security or professional prospects—this recalcitrant door was the real proof that she couldn’t function as a human being.
As she stood there, her flowing tears turning into audible sobs, she knew she was being ridiculous, but that was the thing about final straws: They rarely made any sense whatsoever.
She let out a grunt of frustration and slammed the side of her fist against the door.
“What the hell?” a voice said from inside.
Daphne heard footsteps, then rushed to wipe under her eyes, which were puffy, dark-circled messes anyway.
“Why is this door open?” the same voice said, closer now. “I thought I—” The person cut themself off, then Daphne heard what sounded like a very heavy bag or box being dragged across the floor, followed by a…meow?
“I know, Bianca, calm the hell down,” the person said, and Daphne was fully confused now.
The door drifted open effortlessly, revealing a petite woman with lavender tips in her dark hair, perfect winged eyeliner, ripped black jeans, and black boots that could probably blow a hole in a wall after one solid kick.
Colorful tattoos spiraled down both of her arms, and she smelled faintly of coffee.
“Hi,” Daphne said, then cleared her throat when her words came out a bit tear-logged. “Sorry, I couldn’t get the door open.”
The woman pursed her mouth, then looked Daphne up and down. From the way her jaw tightened and her nostrils flared a little, her gaze was more scrutiny than friendly observation.
“I’m Daphne,” Daphne said.
The woman continued to stare at her, eyes slightly narrowed now.
“Daphne Love?” Daphne tried again. “Your roommate? And, um, teaching partner?”
The woman’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. “Right. I’m April Evans.”
“It’s lovely to meet you,” Daphne said.
“Is it?” April said.
Daphne opened her mouth but closed it again without saying anything. The woman didn’t move, remaining in the doorway with her eyebrows lifted and her breathing a bit heavy for a casual meeting.
“April Evans?” April said again, her inflection rising on the end this time like she was asking a question. “From Clover Lake?”
Daphne wasn’t sure what the right answer was here.
She’d never been the most socially capable person, spending most of her childhood either hiding her true feelings about almost everything or denying them if they happened to slip into the light.
Vivian had been her only solid friend in college, and even that, it seemed, she was continuously screwing up.
Then Elena…
She shook her head. Couldn’t think about Elena right now, absolutely not. She focused, tried to figure out how this tiny, beautiful woman wanted her to respond.
She settled on something simple.
“Yes,” she said.
April tilted her head. “Yes? That’s it?”
Daphne blinked, and…oh no…please, no…she felt tears starting to swell up her throat. She swallowed repeatedly, shoving them back down again until she felt steady enough to talk.
“I’m…I’m sure Mia told me your name,” she said carefully. “I’m sorry if I forgot.”
April blinked, clearly unsatisfied. She looked a little pale, and her jaw was still like a vise. Daphne could hear her teeth grinding.
“Right. Whatever,” April said, then opened the door all the way. “Come in, I guess.”
“Thank you,” Daphne said, stepping into the cabin. She still felt a little shaky—a newborn deer on spindly legs—but at least she was inside now, at her home for the summer.
The space was small but airy, a single room with knotted pine floors, walls, and ceiling.
Two full-size beds sat on opposite sides of the room, a large dark green dresser in between.
The linens were white and crisp, with green plaid blankets folded at the foot of each mattress.
A large picture window to the right of the beds filled the room with bright light.
There was a small closet to the left, along with a bathroom, and Daphne could see a white porcelain bowl sink and tub shower with a green-and-navy plaid curtain.
She also saw a complete and total mess.
Everywhere.
The room was lovely, but Daphne was having a hard time focusing on those details because both beds were covered in clothes, the bathroom light was on and the counter was already littered with toiletries, and she could barely see the pine floor because there were boots and scarves and black jeans and tees literally everywhere.
It was as though someone had stuffed the entire contents of their suitcase into a T-shirt cannon and started firing at random.
Daphne stood frozen in the doorway, her own large suitcase next to her, blinking at the mess.
“Yeah, sorry,” April said, snatching a pile of shirts off one of the beds and stuffing them into the bottom dresser drawer. “I had a lot of shit to unpack, and it helps me organize it if I can see it all.”
Daphne let her shoulders relax. She wasn’t exactly a messy person—she liked things in their place, particularly after years of living with Elena—but she understood the harrowing unpacking process.
Which was exactly why she never quite made it that far at Vivan’s.
“No worries,” she said, pulling her suitcase behind her and heading for the now-cleared bed.
She plopped down, exhaling as she did so, before looking around and wondering what to do first. She’d been hoping April hadn’t arrived yet so she’d have a bit of time to simply stare at the ceiling fan, but that wasn’t in the cards.
The last thing she needed right now was for her grumpy roommate to develop some kind of personal issue with her.
And clearly, they were already off to a strange start.
She glanced up to find April staring at her, brows lowered in what could only be described as a glower, and a black bathing suit covered in tiny constellations in her hands.
A very, very strange start.
Daphne cleared her throat, then turned her suitcase over on its side so she could get it unzipped.
But then she heard it again—a meow.
She straightened, her eyes wide.
“Shit,” April said. She tossed the bathing suit on her bed and headed toward not one but two pet carriers by the door. “I really need to let them out. Do you mind?”
Daphne could only blink as April—who didn’t seem to need an answer from her anyway—proceeded to unlatch the wire doors, releasing two cats, who stepped out of their cages like royalty.
“Bianca del Kitty,” April said, motioning to a regal white-and-gray cat with blue eyes, then pointing to an orange feline, green eyes glowing. “And that’s Bob the Drag Cat. I’ve got their litter box in my car. I hope you’re not allergic, because I have nowhere else for them to go right now.”
Daphne had never had house pets before. Elena hated cats, and Daphne’s family in Tennessee had raised chickens, which required too much care and maintenance to add a dog or cat to the mix.
“Well, are you?” April asked.
The orange cat, Bob, wandered over to Daphne and rubbed itself on her legs, nosing at a loose string on her cuffed jeans.
“Am I what?” Daphne asked, looking down at the feline.
“Allergic,” April said, impatience tightening her voice.
“No,” Daphne said. “No, I’m—”
Bob mewed, looking up at Daphne with liquid eyes before leaping into her lap.
“Oh,” she said, lifting her hands into the air to give the beast some room. The cat kneaded Daphne’s legs, turning in circles a few times, rubbing its face on Daphne’s belly.
April scoffed, then mumbled something that sounded like traitor under her breath. Daphne couldn’t be sure, and she couldn’t slow down her emotions long enough to figure it out, because Bob settled in her lap then. It tucked its paws underneath its furry body and started purring, happy as can be.
Daphne suddenly realized it had been a full month since anyone had touched her, hugged her, patted her on the shoulder, anything. Suddenly, this tiny animal’s body—its weight and its heat—was all too much, a shock of affection Daphne hadn’t even known she needed.
And then, because this day truly couldn’t get any worse, she promptly burst into tears.