Page 5 of Rinkmates

What if, in my case, the stranger will get me in a basement? Killed?

I may be dramatic, but those are exactly the kind of thoughts I have while mentally slapping myself right and left for agreeing to rent a place through Instagram. Who does this?

It’s dangerous.

Stupidly dangerous.

I haven’t been online in like five fucking years, but since I couldn’t find a place I could afford in New York, I posted on my story asking if anyone knew of a shoe box I could live in. Stupid, I know. And just like someone unscrewed my lightbulb, I agreed to meet with the first person who seemed halfway nice and real.

Desperate times and all…

My hand clenches around the old luggage next to me. It reaches up to my hip. It seems big but it’s actually all I have and I’m not even exaggerating. My suitcase contains my entire life within its twenty-seven-to-thirty-two-inch confines.

Yes, I’m so broke that I’m still standing right where the airport shuttle bus spit me out, waiting for someone I’ve only FaceTimed with once.

A girl named Nina.

What if this Nina doesn’t even exist?

What if someone catfished me and I’m meeting with a Sven. Or a Brutus. Or—

“Hey, Liora!” a voice rings out and I jerk up.“Liiiiiiiooooora!”

My attention is drawn to the noisy source, and I see Nina, full of bubbly energy, breaking through my panic dream like a ray of sunshine.

I glance around again, fully aware everyone at this busy train station now knows my name.Hi, New York. This is me. Liora James. The girl who quit the Olympics even though she was running for gold.

With each click of her heels on the pavement, Nina sprints toward me, evading the pedestrians as if she were the police chasing a burglar. Oh my.

Her face lights up with an apologetic smile, holding a frappuccino that looks like it has been through a hurricane. The trail of evidence behind her is a sticky brown disaster zone. “Oh my goodness,” she gasps between breaths as she comes to a halt.

Her frame casts a shadow over mine by a solid three inches. “I’m so sorry for being late, hon. You know how New York can be.”

I blink at her but muster up a grin. No, I don’t know how New York can be, but I see a lot of cars and busy traffic, so I imagine it’s easy to get late.

“Are you ready to see the apartment?” Nina’s excitement bubbles over, her smile lighting up the gray space around us. I try to mirror it, but my stomach churns with nerves. The TV show I’m auditioning for today could be a life changer, but now that it’s actually happening, I’m terrified. Nina has been nothingbut supportive since I explained why I needed to move to New York, which is why I agreed to stay with her for six months. Her spare room is a godsend.

And she’s definitely no Sven or Brutus.

“Sure. Thanks for picking me up again, I’m a total country bumpkin.” Not gonna lie, all these people and the constant car honking and the noise are already getting to me.

“No problem, I’m your personal city ranger!”

We head toward the subway, and I relax a little. I’m relieved to find she’s just as warm and genuine in person as she is through the screen.

Nina slurps her frappuccino and chats about the habits of true New Yorkers all the way to the subway station. She even had a MetroCard ready for me, and I think it might be easy to be friends with Nina. She seems like the type of person everyone likes. I’m not. Back home in Orlando, I don’t have many friends aside from my mom and good ol’ Dan. Our eighty-year-old neighbor.

“How was the flight?”

“Good, I mostly slept through it.” I had to wake up so early, I felt like a complete zombie. On top of that, I haven’t flown in years, which just added to my jittery nerves. With the casting happening today, I’m basically running on autopilot.

“I’m sooo jelly of your skills, girl,” Nina says as we perch on the subway seats, my luggage wedged between my legs. “I once tried figure skating, but my legs aren’t cut out for it. My feet always twist, and then my ligaments tear. Don’t even ask.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I started working as an assistant for hockey players, so it all worked out. I still get to skate for free on my days off.”

My eyes practically pop out of my head. “No rink fee?” I’m floored. Typically, a single public skate session can cost up to twenty-five dollars per day.

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