2. Crossroads
Crossroads
The original hardwood floors, though dulled by age, remained in excellent condition.
They wrapped around the double-sided stone fireplace that divided the left side of the space, continuing to the large island at the back that marked the start of the kitchen, where the flooring shifted to linoleum.
The wall along the right side of the living room looked naked now.
The two large bookcases that had been there belonged to Kris.
Before that, Cassie’s previous roommate’s bookcases had occupied the space.
In the five years since inheriting the house, the wall had always had books and shelving adorning it.
“Maybe I can hang some posters or something,” Cassie grumbled .
The house felt eerily quiet now that Kris and all of her stuff were officially gone.
She had known this day was coming for a couple of weeks and had even looked forward to getting the extra space back.
But standing here, staring at the blank spot where Kris’s bookshelves used to be, it finally sank in that she would be living alone for the first time in her adult life.
The doink, doink sound, signaling a new text message, drew her attention to her phone on the kitchen island.
The Law & Order theme never failed to bring a smile to her face.
“Who the hell is texting me this early?” Cassie groaned as she straightened from the door, rolling the tension from her shoulders. She trudged over, swiping the screen.
Kellan [7:02 AM]: Good morning to everyone except you, you abandoned fool. How does it feel to be a sad, lonely shell of a person?
Cassie rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smirk. “Of course.”
Cassie [7:03 AM]: I feel fantastic, thanks for asking. Nothing like waking up and realizing you no longer have to share your fridge with someone who thought kale chips were a suitable snack.
Kellan [7:04 AM]: Lies. You’re standing in an empty room, staring at the wall like a tragic main character in a drama. Maybe even tearing up a little .
Cassie turned, glaring at the very much empty wall. “Ugh! How do they do that?”
Cassie [7:04 AM]: First of all, rude. Second, if I were crying, it would be because I now have to repaint that godawful pink and yellow mess Kris called a bedroom.
Kellan [7:05 AM]: Oh yeah. That atrocity. You got paint?
Cassie [7:06 AM]: Not yet. But it’s on my to-do list.
Kellan [7:07 AM]: Add “stop being a little emo” to that list.
Cassie [7:08 AM]: Add “mind your own business” to yours.
Kellan [7:08 AM]: Never. Speaking of, you’re buying me brunch tomorrow.
Cassie [7:09 AM]: Hello?!? Roommate-less!
Kellan [7:09 AM]: Fine, you’re so demanding. See you at 10.
Cassie exhaled sharply, shaking her head as she set the phone down.
Kellan was her best friend and an absolute menace, but at least they were her menace.
Even though Kellan had loudly declared themselves another card-carrying member of the sapphic brigade when they met, they’d quickly agreed they were better off as friends.
When Kellan came out as non-binary a few years later, the dynamic never changed: chaos, solidarity, and zero romantic tension.
And at least she had something to look forward to tomorrow, even if it meant enduring Kellan’s relentless teasing.
For now, though, she had bigger problems. Like the fact that Kris’s old room still looked like an Easter egg exploded inside it.
With a sigh, Cassie grabbed a notepad from the kitchen drawer and started a list.
1. Paint (something neutral for the love of God).
2. Fill the empty space in the living room with something CHEAP.
3. Get used to being alone.
That last one was going to be the hardest.
Cassie knew she had been extremely lucky to have inherited the house when her grandmother passed away a little over five years ago.
It had been in desperate need of some repairs and general maintenance, but it had strong bones.
Not to mention, it was in a prime location, within walking distance of the beach and the famous Santa Monica Pier.
And if that wasn’t enough, the drive to her office at The Sharpe Agency was an easy ten minutes, even with rush hour traffic.
Cassie had taken out a home equity loan to pay for some urgent issues, and the reverse mortgage from her Grams notwithstanding, the monthly payment for her three-bedroom, two-bath house was still significantly below market value.
So when Kris announced she was moving out, it hadn’t been a panic moment.
Cassie was expecting to land the Senior Creative Director role at The Sharpe Agency, which opened up after the longtime department head retired and her boss was promoted.
The new position would’ve given her enough income to live alone—though she might have had to delay a few renovations.
But not only had Cassie not been promoted, she hadn’t even been able to apply for the job.
Nobody did. They just brought in somebody from a sister agency in New York.
And not just anybody, but Kimberly Sharpe.
The daughter of Robert Sharpe, owner of Sharpe Media—the parent company of The Sharpe Agency.
Nothing like getting a job because you’re the owner’s daughter . Cassie had been with the company nearly four years longer than Kimberly and was still a Creative Director. She started as an assistant while still in college and worked hard to get to where she was.
Kimberly was promoted to the senior level over a year ago.
Cassie’s boss was sympathetic to the situation—she had been campaigning for Cassie to get promoted since the moment she had found out about her own promotion.
But that hadn’t stopped her from asking Cassie to show Kimberly the ropes.
Great now I get to train my own friggin’ boss .
Because that didn’t suck… except it did . It totally did suck.
Cassie sighed and leaned back against the kitchen island. She had more pressing things to deal with. And another three weeks to prepare for her new boss. Ugh! “The roommate gods are definitely not smiling down on me.”
She eyed her open-plan living room and kitchen. The place wasn’t a mess, but it could definitely use a solid once-over. “First things first.” Exhaling loudly, she shoved off the island and headed down the hallway.
The morning disappeared under a pile of painter’s paper, spackle, sanding dust and two heavy cans of paint from the hardware store.
She worked methodically—floor covered, holes patched, window shade removed and stashed safely in the closet.
She blasted the playlist she made the night before, a hundred songs strong.
But just before the actual painting started, she realized she was already hearing repeats. Great. Another thing I underestimated .
By early afternoon, she was starving, sore and too stubborn to stop.
She rolled the first coat of antique white over the bright pink and yellow walls, humming along to round two of her favorite songs.
It would take three coats and another four rounds of her playlist before the old colors finally disappeared.
By then, her bright red hair, navy tank top, and cutoffs were splattered with paint.
Between drying times, she scrubbed both bathrooms, dusted the master bedroom, and cleaned the living room, losing herself in the satisfying rhythm of making the house her own.
By the time she tried to scrub the dried paint from her arms, legs and face, she looked like she’d lost a wrestling match with a paint roller.
The banana she’d eaten for lunch had long ago given its last energy boost, so showering would have to wait until after dinner.
Sitting on the dark gray couch with a TV tray in her lap, Cassie watched Wynonna Earp: Vengeance for the hundredth time while she ate the best damn cheeseburger of her life.
Of course, the fact that the only thing she had eaten in over 24 hours was a banana might have had something to do with her enjoyment of said cheeseburger.
She devoured the burger, the fries, and an Oreo shake.
Without a hint of guilt, she told herself, “ Hey, I deserve it!”
Fully stuffed, she tried to stay awake long enough to watch the end of the movie.
But after she’d put a kink in her neck from jerking awake for the third— maybe fourth —time, she decided it was time for that shower and bed.
She knew her body would make her pay tomorrow so a couple extra hours of sleep certainly wouldn’t hurt.
** *
Sunday brunch was a time-honored tradition for Cassie and Kellan since their college days.
They met as freshmen, thrown together as dorm-mates in a cramped room with mismatched furniture and cinder block walls.
Despite their differences, they clicked instantly in a way that baffled most of their other friends.
Kellan was outgoing and free-spirited, always chasing the next spark of inspiration, while Cassie was quieter, more disciplined, and singularly focused on graduating at the top of her class.
They both majored in Graphic Design and quickly became each other’s go-to partner for group projects.
Their creative styles meshed effortlessly, their personalities balanced one another, and by the time they crossed the stage at graduation, they had been inseparable for four years.
A decade later, they were still best friends—and now, co-workers.
Cassie dropped her bag onto one of the empty chairs before easing herself into the other with an exhausted groan. The moment she settled in, she let her head fall back, eyes drifting shut as she exhaled a long, drawn-out sigh.
Across the table, Kellan glanced up from their phone, one brow arching. “Everything okay over there?”
“Sure, if you don’t count every single one of my muscles feeling like they got run over by a truck.” Cassie groaned again. “Everything’s great.”
“Wooo! Did someone get lucky last night?” Kellan asked, their smile growing as they leaned in closer.
Raising one eyelid to give Kellan a serious stink eye, Cassie grunted out, “How the hell did you reach that conclusion? I practically just told you I’m nearly dead!”
“Okay, Miss Drama Queen,” Kellan teased. “Sue me for being an eternal optimist. ”
“I don’t think I even want to know why you equate so much pain with getting…
” Cassie shook her head and closed her eyes.
Yeah. I’m not even going there . Sighing, she continued, “No, someone did not get lucky last night. Kris moved out yesterday, remember? And I had to paint the bedroom.” Grunting again, she tried to get comfortable on the chair.
“I didn’t even know I had muscles in some of the places that hurt. Ugh… fuck.”
“Language, young lady,” Kellan teased as they picked up a giant coffee and set it down directly in front of Cassie. “One skinny vanilla latte,” they said with a slight head bow and then took a sip of their morning tea.
“Oh my God, I love you!” Cassie said as she cradled the cup of coffee to her chest.
“Yup, I know,” came Kellan’s retort. “And don’t you forget it.”
Sunday brunch was what they referred to as their “friend only” time.
During college, it was the one designated time when schoolwork wasn’t discussed.
After graduation, work talk was not allowed.
Period. It was a rule they had instituted right out of college when their time together inevitably turned to discussing work.
Sometimes, they had a ton of crazy non-work life issues to discuss, and sometimes, like today, they chose to simply soak up the Southern California sun over breakfast.