Maggie - I’ve arrived
My optimism was slightly overshadowed by exhaustion when I finally arrived at my new apartment complex at 3pm the next day.
And then it was overshadowed by anxiety. When I made it to the front desk to sign the rest of my lease papers, I was notified that I’d be now renting apartment number 213 instead of 207 like they originally said, and I had to convince myself that the “13” wasn’t a bad sign.
At least I was only on the second floor, not the fifth, because the elevator was pretty sketchy and jerky. I had a feeling I’d be choosing to take the stairs more often than not.
The whole apartment complex was actually slightly sketch looking. I think the builders were going for an “industrial” look, but I think that was just an excuse to not cover up the concrete flooring and to leave all the piping exposed.
The other issue was that I didn’t realize my new place was technically a “micro-apartment,” meaning my studio was only about 250 square feet. The space felt even more cramped once all my suitcases and random bags were brought inside.
Despite the issues, a giddy bubble of excitement grew in my chest as I stood in the middle of the apartment. This space was all mine. This adventure was all mine.
My eyes swept over the old kitchenette built into the left wall and the little box of a bathroom at the front of the studio. Peeking in the bathroom, I realized just how “micro” this apartment really was: the toilet was almost touching the bathtub. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I forced myself to look on the bright side. I could totally spruce up the small space with some bright shower curtains, soaps, and towels. And the shower looked promising. Good showers were needed for a good life. I’d spend an hour in the shower each morning if I could.
And while the apartment didn’t have a whole bunch of natural lighting, the tiny window on the back wall would have to be sufficient. I made most of my painting examples for class at home, and it was hard to mix colors without natural light. I just hoped the school’s art room would have better lighting, maybe even multiple windows if I was lucky. I wouldn't hold my breath though because older staff always got first dibs on classrooms.
By the time I set everything up, I had a full list of essential items that I needed to pick up from Target, including a blow-up mattress that I could use until I had more time to shop for a real one. I added a cheap full-length mirror to the list because I liked seeing my whole outfit before I left the house.
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After my Target trip, I surveyed my trunk. I could totally get this all up in one trip.
Carrying two grocery bags in my right hand, I held the strap of the toilet paper with my left hand, then grabbed the flimsy $10 mirror and laid it on my shoulder.
Slow and steady, I told myself. This was all good. Way better than having to come all the way back down and risk another elevator ride.
I made it all the way to my door, but I must not have leaned the mirror properly against the wall, because a second later, it was flopping forward. With the grocery bags still in my right hand, I was too late to catch it. I watched in practically slow motion as the mirror shattered on the concrete floor. Little mirror shards went scattering all over the hallway.
The frustration in my body mounted.
I wanted to fucking scream.
I was trying so hard to look on the bright side of things all day long, but this was the nail in the coffin.
Seven more years of bad luck.
My shoulders fell as I slowly backed against my door and slid down to my butt.
And that’s when the door to my left slightly cracked open.
“Everything okay out here?” Bright blue eyes scanned the hallway. The guy cringed, then carefully stepped fully out into the hallway in socks, joggers, and a t-shirt stretched over his broad, skinny frame. His hat was turned backwards over what appeared to be dirty blonde hair, and light scruff shadowed his strong jaw. Damn. The guy looked like Paul Walker’s (RIP) long lost son.
He gave an easy smile, and it was like the gloomy clouds in my mind parted. From the way his eyes crinkled in the corners, he had to be around my age. He crossed his strong, slender arms over his chest. “You good down there?” His eyes twinkled, practically laughing at me.
A laugh bubbled out of me at the ridiculousness of this situation and my face burned bright red.
Of course I would meet my hot neighbor when I was a total mess– my hair was thrown in a haphazard bun, I was wearing one of my brother’s old Lions hoodies over biker shorts, and one of my Birkenstocks fell off my foot when I slid down to my butt.
He tiptoed around the glass shards and handed me back my shoe with an amused smirk on his face. “Need some help?”
“Uh, sure, thanks,” I said with a light laugh, trying to control my internal boiler room which was now probably making sweat appear on my hairline . Get it together, Maggie, I yelled at myself. I shoved my shoe on and popped up off the floor.
“I’ll be right back, I’ll grab my broom and dustpan,” he said oh-so-casually.
I fanned my face real quick before he returned. Wow, he was a hottie-with-a-body in real life. And the backwards hat? That always boosted a guy's attractiveness ten-fold.
He appeared a minute later and bent down to start sweeping the glass into a plastic grocery bag. “So, you new around here?”
I carefully picked up the mirror frame from the ground. “Yes, just got here today, actually.”
“Ah, nice. What do you do for work?” he asked, regarding me with his piercing blue eyes.
“I’m an art teacher. First day is tomorrow.”
“That’s awesome,” he said with a genuine smile. “I always hated school, but gym and art were always fun.”
“Mmm,” I cocked my head to the side. “Gym and art? You were a troublemaker then, eh?” I tested.
His shoulders rolled with a chuckle. “Me? Nah.”
I raised my eyebrows in question.
“Wow, you have the teacher-look down pat,” he said with a chuckle. “I guess I was maybe slightly a troublemaker.” He gave me a wink.
Say something flirty, I screamed at myself. “Well, with those eyes, you were probably the elementary school heartbreaker,” I said with a grin, then internally cringed, that was probably way too forward, but the way he rubbed his scruffy jaw and laughed made me feel instantly better. “And what do you do for work?”
“I’m a veterinarian,” he said with a grin. “Not as cool as an art teacher.”
Oh my God . That was so cute. “No, that’s so cool. I love dogs,” I practically gushed.
He gave an easy smile and shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, it keeps me busy, pretty much everyone in Colorado has a pet.” His eyes shifted to my door behind me. “You have one?”
“Oh, no, I don't, I’m just me, Maggie,” I rambled, pointing to myself, then mentally repeated my sentence. What the fuck was wrong with my brain? His smile completely melted it, apparently. Wait, wait, wait, it was probably actually really stupid to tell a complete stranger that I lived alone. Then again, he was my neighbor , he’d find out in a single day that no one else was with me. Plus, I wanted him to know I was single.
He grinned. “Well hello Maggie, I'm just me, Timothy.”
“Timothy.” I smiled. That was a cute name. Tim. Timmy. Cute.
“Have a nice day, Maggie, hopefully you stay out of trouble, seven years of bad luck and all that,” he said, gesturing to the plastic bag of mirror shards he was now holding. “I can take that to the trash,” he said, gesturing to the empty mirror frame I was still holding.
“Oh, thank you,” I said earnestly, passing it to him.
“No problem,” he said, giving me another wink before turning toward the elevator. “I’ll see you around, Maggie.” He gave me a little up-down look, like he was totally checking me out and he wanted me to know.
I could feel my cheeks heat up. “Yeah, see you around,” I forced out.
I quickly turned and fumbled with my keys to let myself in my door. As soon as I was in the privacy of my own space, I leaned against the wall. A laugh bubbled out of my chest. Wow. That totally had to be a sign that I was in the right place. Timothy. And he was my neighbor, so I’d definitely see him again. And he was a veterinarian. So, so cute. Okay, I needed to chill, he could totally have a girlfriend. But a taken guy wouldn’t wink at me the way he did. He had to be single.
And he helped me clean up my bad luck mirror. A hand fluttered to my chest. What beautiful symbolism. I let out a little squeal of happiness and did a tiny happy dance.
My face practically hurt from grinning. Finally. This could really work out. Maybe I could finally be the girl who got everything she wanted.