Chapter 3
JAMIE
By the end of the week, I feel like I’ve aged about ten years.
Every spare hour outside the clinic has gone into room hunting, and every single viewing has chipped away at whatever optimism I had left. Which wasn’t much to begin with.
On Tuesday, I had to take two hours off work to tour what was advertised as ‘a cozy, converted garage’. In reality, it was a dim concrete rectangle with a single flickering bulb and a mildew smell so strong I was pretty sure it would grow legs and kill me in my sleep.
On Wednesday, I met Darren. After work. When it was dark. Because I didn’t want to sacrifice any more working hours. Darren, bless his soul, collects knives. As a hobby, he said with a beaming smile while a machete glinted behind him on the wall. He is also a fan of camping.
With the promise of getting back to him later in the week that I had no intention of keeping, I bolted.
The place I went to see yesterday was actually nice and true to the ad; a three-bedroom, one bathroom apartment with a furnished room up for grabs.
What the ad didn’t mention was that four people already lived in it—two couples, to be specific.
Even overlooking the obvious obstacle, aka five people sharing one bathroom and kitchen, I wouldn’t be comfortable living with couples.
Couples argue, a lot. I hate conflict, and I hate the tension that inevitably follows every argument.
My conflict-avoidance is deep enough that I barely ever speak up, even when I’m not happy with something.
Yes, I’m a doormat, and I’m working on it…
kinda. But I’d prefer not to put myself in the line of fire.
And now it’s Friday. I’m so wrung out I could fold myself like laundry.
And yet, I’m standing here, in front of a building that looks…
nice. Way too nice for the price that was listed.
Definitely not like something within my budget.
The photos looked great too, painting the picture of a spacious, bright apartment, but if this week has taught me anything, it’s that there’s nothing you can’t achieve with the right angle and good photoshop skills.
I debate turning tail and going home, but the tiny chance that this might be just as good in reality as it is on paper keeps me rooted here.
Because this place is also close to the clinic. Close enough that I could walk instead of spending an hour on the bus, changing service twice, pressed between someone’s armpit and someone else’s backpack.
I take a fortifying breath and send a message informing the current resident that I’ve arrived. He—a guy in his late twenties, according to the ad—replies with the apartment number. I press the buzzer, and instead of a voice coming through the intercom, the glass doors slide open.
Yeah, okay, I just told the guy that I’m in front of the building, but isn’t it a little sus that he didn’t even bother to speak? What is he hiding? What if he’s not twenty-something, but some old geezer who converted his storage room into a hostage cell? Am I… Am I going to be kidnapped?
At least I wouldn’t have to pay rent. I’d probably get free food too.
Shaking my head at myself, I step into a very clean, very modern lobby and head for the elevator.
The hallway on the eighth floor, where I get off, is neat and bright. No smell from an overflowing garbage chute. No suspicious stains or walls dented from someone’s fist. No neighbor screaming so loud it carries. The peace is almost unsettling.
I find the apartment and knock on the door, holding my breath as I wait. I hear voices from inside, male, but definitely more than one. Then the door clicks open.
My jaw drops. Surely, the universe isn’t that cruel.
“Jamie?”
It’s Tyler. My Tyler. I mean, clinic-Tyler! The one with the warm voice and stupidly kind eyes and the smile that has been popping into my head at the worst possible times, like when I’m trying to sleep or forget that my ex moved out with barely a goodbye.
He’s standing there like a Greek god, his wide shoulders filling the doorway. He’s mirroring my dumbstruck expression, but even that looks sexy on him.
“H-hi. I’m…here for the viewing?” I manage to get out, too busy trying not to stare.
And then, fuck, he smiles. And I die a little.
I also get a little hard.
“I’ll be damned. What a small world. Come on in!”
He steps aside, holding the door open. I have to pass by him on my way in, and his spicy-sweet smell hits me where I’m already compromised.
I follow him on autopilot as he leads us to what must be the living room.
Sadly, all my senses are way too focused on the walking wet dream in front of me to be able to process my surroundings.
Which is a shame, because even as distracted as I am, I can still make out a spacious, bright living area with an open kitchen at the far end that just begs to be cooked in.
“I had no idea you’re hunting for a place,” Tyler says. It comes out a little… I’m not sure accusatory is the right word. Maybe disappointed? Because I didn’t share the information with him?
“I had no idea you’re roommate hunting,” I point out.
Tyler’s full, stubble-framed lips curve in another smile. “Touché. In my defense, it’s a new development. My roommate is moving in with his girlfriend, and he was kind enough to give me three-days’ notice.” He rolls his eyes, but his tone doesn’t sound particularly upset.
“You can’t wait when it comes to true love!
” someone calls from one of the rooms. I jump a little, only now recalling that I heard two voices before.
When I turn to look, I indeed see a guy—Tyler’s roommate, I presume—surrounded by a sea of clothes, working very hard to zip up his overflowing suitcase.
The scene is so resemblant of last Friday, when David was the one packing up his things like he couldn’t get away fast enough, it makes my chest throb.
“You met her two months ago!” Tyler calls back.
“That’s irrelevant! If you know, you know!”
“You don’t know shit!” Tyler returns his attention to me, rolling his eyes again. “Men. So dumb. Thinking with their dicks.” He chuckles. “What’s your excuse?”
“My—Oh. Well, I’ve only known for a week. I’ve been checking out places all over.”
“Your roommate ditch you for a chick, too?” Tyler asks, loud enough for his roommate to hear.
“Yeah, actually.” I pause, weighing my next words.
Do I want him to know what a sad sack of a person I am?
Not particularly. But if we were to live together (damn, I can’t believe I’m considering it, this can’t end well for me!) it’s better if I come out with the truth early on, pun intended.
“Except he wasn’t just my roommate, but my boyfriend as well. Or so I thought.”
Tyler blinks, staring at me. I hold my breath waiting for his reaction. I’m not prepared for the storm in his eyes. “What an absolute cunt.”
Now it’s my turn to stare. The dry delivery forces a laugh out of me, so sudden it even surprises me.
“It’s true!” Tyler exclaims, throwing his arms up, which only sends me into a full-on laughing fit. God, it feels good to laugh again.
My vision is slightly blurry when I finally calm down. “Thanks, I needed that.”
“Happy to shit-talk your shitty ex anytime you want,” Tyler promises. He’s smiling, but I don’t doubt he’s serious.
“Thanks, but…I’d rather forget about him altogether.” I shrug. “Starting fresh, and stuff.” It should be easier in a new place. And if I were around Tyler, I bet I’d forget about David soon enough. My head tends to empty whenever Tyler is around, so there’s that.
“Sounds like a plan,” Tyler concedes. “Is that why you’re looking for a place instead of a roommate for where you live now?”
“Partially, but also my place is a studio. Kinda hard to share.”
“Oh yeah. Makes sense. When are you looking to move out?”
“I gave the landlord my two-weeks’ notice on Saturday. So I have another week left.”
Surprise flashes across Tyler’s face. “You’ve given him notice before you’ve found a new place?”
I shrug. “I kinda had to. There’s just no way I could pay the rent on my own for any longer.”
“On your own? Isn’t your ex paying half? Especially since he didn’t give you any notice.”
Heat creeps up my neck when I’m about to admit how stupid I am. “Uh, no. He’s not on the lease, so I can’t really make him pay his share.” I omit mentioning he never paid half anyway. Tyler must already think I’m a complete moron.
I sigh. No way will he want me as a roommate now.
“What’s his name?”
“Huh?”
“Your ex. Give me his name.”
“What? Why?”
“I have a way of holding people accountable,” Tyler says, explaining nothing. “I can make him pay. Literally.”
A chill runs down my spine, transforming into…something warm and tingly when it reaches the base. I don’t know what Tyler meant, but that ‘I take no shit’ expression does things to me. As does his outrage at my situation. My situation, not my stupidity. It’s…really nice.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, unable to hold back a smile. “But it’s okay. I just want to move on,” I rush to add when I see Tyler is about to protest.
“Fair,” he says with a huff. “Hey, Blake! Are you and Jen both gonna be on the lease?”
Blake pokes his head out of the room. “What do you mean? It’s her apartment, I’m just moving in.”
Tyler stares at him like Blake is a complete idiot. Funny, considering I’m a much bigger idiot, and he’s had nothing but empathy for me.
“You know she can kick you out when you piss her off, right?”
Blake scoffs. “Please. Me? Piss her off? I’m a joy to be around.”
“For fuck’s sake, Blake.”
“Whatever! Even if she kicked me out, which she will not, I’d just crash here again.”
“You’d crash on the couch, and only if Jamie didn’t mind.”
“What?” I blurt out at the same time that Blake lets out an offended, “Seriously?!”
Tyler looks at me with a sunny smile. “That is, if you want to take the room? I swear it will look better once Blake gets his shit out.”