"Okay, real talk. What's your escape plan if he turns out to be a serial killer?"
I look over at Jessica, who's driving with one hand while gesturing dramatically with the other. We've been in the car for fifteen minutes and she's already covered emergency exits, self-defense tactics, and the best places to hide a body if I'm the one who snaps first.
"Jess, you literally convinced me to take this apartment."
"I know. And I stand by that decision. But I'm also a realist." She changes lanes without signaling, earning an angry honk from behind us. "I'm just saying, keep your phone charged and maybe invest in pepper spray."
"You're being ridiculous."
"I'm being prepared. There's a difference." She glances at the boxes in her backseat. "Is this really all your stuff?"
"That's everything."
"Emma, I've seen college freshmen move in with more than this."
"I'm a minimalist."
"You're broke. There's a difference."
I can't really argue with that.
Jessica merges onto the highway, narrowly avoiding a minivan. "So let me get this straight. You're moving in with a hot stranger you met online, who works from home doing vague consulting work, and you think this is going to be totally normal and not weird at all?"
"That's the plan."
She sighs, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. "Okay, fine. But we're establishing ground rules right now. Text me every night for the first week so I know you're alive. If anything feels off, even slightly off, you call me immediately. And if he so much as looks at you weird, we're moving you out."
"He's not going to look at me weird."
"All men look at women weird. It's their natural state."
Despite my nerves, I laugh. "You have such a healthy view of relationships."
"I have a realistic view. There's a—"
"A difference, yeah, I got it."
We drive in comfortable silence for a while. The city scrolls past, buildings getting progressively nicer as we get closer to my new neighborhood.
"Are you nervous?" Jessica asks, softer now.
"Terrified."
"Good. That means you're not completely delusional." She reaches over and squeezes my hand. "But you're going to be fine. This is a good thing. Your own space, affordable rent, only slightly questionable roommate. You're moving up in the world."
"I'm moving from your couch to a bedroom. It's not exactly a penthouse."
"It's progress. And progress is good."
She's right. I know she's right. But as we get closer to the building, my stomach does increasingly complicated gymnastics.
What if this is a huge mistake? What if Kai is weird? What if we can't stand each other? What if I'm making a terrible decision based purely on financial desperation?
"Stop overthinking," Jessica says, reading my mind like always. "I can literally hear your brain spiraling from here."
"I'm not spiraling."
"You're absolutely spiraling. Your jaw is doing that tense thing it does when you're catastrophizing."
I consciously relax my jaw.
"Look," Jessica continues, "worst case scenario, you hate it and you move out. Best case, you've got a stable living situation and you can finally stop sleeping on furniture designed for hobbits."
"Your couch is not that small."
"Emma, you're five-six and your feet hung off the end. It's that small."
Fair point.
We pull up to the building and Jessica lets out a low whistle. "Okay, this is actually really nice. Are you sure this is the right address?"
"This is it."
"Emma, there are flower boxes. Actual flowers that someone is actively taking care of. This is suspicious."
"Or it's just a well-maintained building."
"In this economy? Definitely suspicious."
We're unloading the first box when the building door opens and Kai walks out.
He's wearing jeans and a grey t-shirt that absolutely should not look that good on a person, and his hair is doing that casually perfect thing that suggests he either spent no time on it or exactly the right amount of time.
"Hey," he says, jogging down the steps. "Let me help with those."
Before I can respond, he's already grabbed the two heaviest boxes from Jessica's trunk like they weigh approximately nothing.
Jessica and I exchange a look.
"I've got these," Kai says. "You guys grab the lighter stuff."
He heads inside without waiting for a response.
Jessica leans over, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Emma. What the hell does this man eat for breakfast? Those boxes are like forty pounds each."
"He said he runs."
"Nobody runs that much. That's not running muscles. That's lifting a car muscles."
"You're being dramatic."
"I'm being observant. There's a—"
"Difference, I know."
We grab the remaining boxes and suitcases. Kai makes three more trips, carrying everything up three flights of stairs without breaking a sweat or even breathing hard.
By the time we get the last load upstairs, Jessica is actively staring at him.
"So, Kai," she says with her investigative journalist voice, "you work out a lot?"
"Not really. Just stay active."
"Active like gym active or active like you wrestle bears for fun?"
He actually smiles at that. "No bears. Just running, mostly."
"Huh." Jessica is clearly unconvinced but lets it go.
The apartment looks even better in daylight. Sun streaming through the windows, everything clean and organized, the kind of space that actually feels like a home instead of just a place to sleep.
"Your room's all ready," Kai says, gesturing down the hallway. "Cleared out the closet, made sure everything's clean. Towels are in the hallway closet, Wi-Fi password's on the fridge. Kitchen's fully stocked if you need anything."
"Thank you. Really."
"No problem." He checks his phone. "I've got a work call in a few minutes, but if you need anything, just knock."
He disappears into his room, closing the door quietly behind him.
Jessica immediately grabs my arm and pulls me into my new bedroom, shutting the door.
"Okay," she hisses. "We need to talk about your roommate."
"What about him?"
"Emma. Come on. You cannot possibly be this oblivious."
"Oblivious about what?"
"Your roommate is objectively gorgeous. Like stupid gorgeous. Like I-would-break-my-no-dating-policy-for-him gorgeous."
"I hadn't noticed."
"You are such a liar." She crosses her arms. "Emma Carter, look me in the eyes and tell me you haven't noticed that your new roommate looks like he walked out of a fitness magazine."
I try. I really try. But I can feel my face getting hot.
"I knew it!" Jessica points at me triumphantly. "You're blushing"
"I'm not blushing."
"You're absolutely blushing. Oh my God, this is going to be so entertaining to watch."
"There's nothing to watch. He's my roommate. That's it."
"Uh-huh. Sure. A totally normal roommate who looks like that and carries your stuff without breaking a sweat and has a voice that probably makes people pregnant."
"Jessica!"
"I'm just saying, this living situation is about to get very complicated."
"It's not complicated. It's a business arrangement. I pay rent, he pays rent, we share common spaces and stay out of each other's way."
Jessica gives me a look. "Emma, honey, I love you. But you're adorably naive if you think that's how this is going to go."
"That's exactly how it's going to go."
"We'll see." She grabs her keys from her pocket. "I should get going. I've got that thing with Brad tonight."
"Brad? I thought you hated Brad."
"I do. But he's buying dinner and I'm poor. Don't judge me."
"Never."
She pulls me into a tight hug. "You're going to be fine. Better than fine. This is good, Emma. Real progress."
"Thanks for helping me move. And for everything else."
"That's what best friends are for." She pulls back, her expression turning serious. "But I mean it. Text me tonight. And if anything feels off—"
"I'll call you immediately. I promise."
"Good." She heads for the door, then pauses. "Also, your roommate definitely works out more than he's admitting. Nobody looks like that from just running. I'm calling it now."
"Goodbye, Jessica."
"Text me!"
The door closes behind her and suddenly I'm alone in my new apartment.
Well, not completely alone. Kai's in his room, probably on his work call. But alone enough.
I look around my new bedroom. Sunlight streaming through the window, hardwood floors, enough space for all my stuff and then some. It's not fancy, but it's mine.
For the first time in six weeks, I have my own space.
I start unpacking slowly, finding spots for everything. Clothes in the dresser, books stacked in the corner, toiletries lined up on top of the furniture until I can claim some bathroom counter space.
My phone buzzes. Jessica, obviously.
You alive?
I smile. Alive. Unpacking.
Has he done anything weird yet?
It's been ten minutes.
So that's a no?
That's a no.
Keep me posted. Love you.
Love you too.
I finish unpacking and sit on the edge of my bed, looking around the room. My room. In my apartment. That I can actually afford.
For the first time in weeks, I let myself feel something other than stressed or anxious or worried.
I feel hopeful.
Maybe this is going to work out. Maybe Kai will be a good roommate. Maybe I can actually build something stable here, stop living paycheck to paycheck, stop feeling like I'm one crisis away from falling apart.
Maybe.
Through the wall, I can hear Kai's voice, muffled but professional. Work call, like he said.
I pull out my laptop and start setting up my desk space, arranging things until they feel right.
Outside my window, the street is quiet. A few people walking by, someone walking a dog, normal weekday afternoon things.
I can do this. New apartment, new start, new chance to actually get my life together.
How complicated can it possibly be?