Page 17 of At Your Door

For the sake of my own sanity, I almost black out when I tell her what I think happened to her toilet. Even though theblows I know I deserve, my mind is completely focused on the solutions I could offer.

But as soon as she says, “Stay inyourapartment?” I know what I have to do. Mia stood before me, looking at me like I’d lost my mind. I’m not sure inviting her to stay at my place was the right thing to do.

“Are you serious right now?!” Mia half-jokes.

I don’t know how I do it, but the words start flowing out of me.

"Look, I know this is all fucked, but you don’t really have many options right now. You will be without water for at least two days, and you work right downstairs. We both know this is the best place for you to stay for now."

Mia’s quiet now, probably surprised that my reasoning actually makes sense. Her eyebrows are tight as if she wants to find something negative to say, but she can’t.

“I’ll stay on the couch, ONLY because I know Ben isn’t going to find another place for me to stay, and I sure as hell can’t afford anything else right now,” Mia finally says.

There’s no way I’m letting her sleep on my couch, but I’m too relieved she agreed to argue. I can only offer her a soft smile and nod in agreement.

CHAPTER 10

MIA

Even if you were holding me hostage for ransom, I don’t think I could explain how I ended up saying yes to staying in Griffon’s apartment. The words just flew out of me—I was honestly surprised with myself. But she wasn’t wrong; I don’t really have many other options. This is where I work and live, and if it’s only for a couple of days, then what’s the big deal?

I’m glad Eleanor isn’t here to witness this, though. She wouldn’t be able to contain herself, watching me drag my floral comforter—the same one I’ve had since I was 18—from my flooded apartment to Griffon’s surprisingly clean living room.

Griffon has been helping me move over some daily essentials for the past few hours. I’m grateful, but we haven’t exchanged more than a few words: a couple of “yeah,” “nos,” “thanks,” and nods. I could’ve tried to strike up a conversation, but every time I try, I’m reminded of my current situation—which, in turn, reminds me of last night.

I can't eventhinkabout what I did without wanting to die from embarrassment. I think I might just evaporate into nothingness because not only did she possibly hear me orgasm through the walls, but she definitely heard my wet, naked body crash onto the floor. Since she hasn’t said anything, I’m holdingonto the very slim chance she didn’t hear it at all. Although, maybe she’s just not mentioning it because she’s the one who messed up my plumbing and now feels sorry for the poor, horny girl next door with the fucked-up pipes.

Holy shit is this karma for masturbating?!

I mean, how could this seriously happen to me?!

Do I truly have the worst luck in the world?

What’s worse is that I don’t even have time to grieve over my apartment’s flooring or my existence. I just have to push through. Walking back into her place on my last trip, toiletries in hand, I know I can’t stay quiet forever. The closest thing I’ve ever had to a roommate is Eleanor when she sleeps over. But that’s different—she’s my best friend and always has been. Griffon… well, Griffon is practically a stranger.

A stranger–I got off to.

But still a stranger, and now I have to live with her. As uncomfortable as this is, I can’t spend the next few days wallowing in awkward silence. I know I need to say something. But when I return to her living room, all my stuff is gone.

My comforter, pillows, tote bag full of clothes, even my phone—all gone. Griffon’s green velvet couch is completely empty as if nothing has happened.

I wish it hadn’t. But as I whip my head around her perfectly curated apartment, I hear Griffon moving down the hallway.

For the second time today, I yell out, “Griffon?”

“Oh yeah! Come back here!”

I heard her, but my feet felt glued to the floor.

It shouldn’t surprise me that she’s handy, but from her style and living room vibe, I could already tell she has great taste. Still, damn. Her bedroom feels like stepping into one of those overpriced boho clothing boutiques. The dark botanical wallpaper gives the room a cozy dimness, and the lamps andfairy lights keep it from feeling cramped. Her huge, dark wood mid-century bed frame is gorgeous—no wonder I could hear so much from the other side. I try not to think about that as my eyes land on my comforter, now spread across her mattress.

My eyes widen.

“I just pulled out fresh sheets, I promise!” Griffon says quickly, probably already reading my mind.

“I know you said you’d take the couch, but I couldn’t let you do that. I promise you’ll have the room to yourself, and I won’t bother you. I’ll be in the living room the entire time.”

Her palms are raised in front of her, a clear defense. But my eyes drift to something just past her, and it really shouldn’t be the first thing that comes to mind, but I can’t help myself.

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