Page 5 of Grace

I nudge my mouse and wait for the screen to light up before I start my search, hoping it will get her out of my mind.

Petite redhead porn.

I start simple and scroll through the page, and the next and the next until I find what makes my blood pump through my veins.

three

Grace

The next day, I wait patiently in a corner booth of a diner close to my apartment. The cooks yell to each other as forks scrape across plates. The place looks like it’s been around from the fifties with plenty of wear and tear on the walls, the booths, and the floor. The air is heavy with the scents of bacon and cooking oil. I take a sip from my coffee and clutch it tighter, almost ready to leave.

“Are you Grace?” a girl says as she approaches my table. Her dark hair is tightly pulled back. But the piercings on her lip, nose, and ears make me stare before my gaze drops, trailing over the tattoos racing up and down her arms.

I nod, and she sits down. She rubs the back of her neck. “I’m Ashley. I brought proof I’m employed and my recent numbers. I’m a tattoo artist, but I definitely need a place, and your apartment is close enough to work.”

I blink a few times at the folder she gives me. It’s an old Lisa Frank style one, bright with color and girlish fun. I open it, seeher reports, see a list of her last landlords, her credit score, everything.

“I can also pay two months up front. Since I’m living with you, I also expect to pay half of the bills and you know, we won’t eat each other’s food, we’ll talk if we’re going to bring a stranger over, things like that,” she says with a shrug.

“Um, the amount I quoted is with my current bills. Water, power, internet. I have renter’s insurance and you can get it too,” I murmur.

“Even better. I might add to some costs, so if they change, I’ll pitch in,” she says clearly.

“Okay. Everything looks good,” I say, mostly because I have no idea what I’m looking for. “Do you want to see the place?” I ask cautiously.

She nods eagerly. I pay for my coffee, and we walk back to my apartment. She isn’t bothered that we’re on the second floor, thankfully. I turn the key in the door as I speak. “I’m kind of a minimalist, but feel free to add anything you need to be comfortable.”

“Cool,” she answers breezily. “I like some style, but it’s not like I have friends over every week or anything.”

“You can if you want to,” I say.

Once the door opens, I sweep my hand over the small living room separated from the kitchen with a bar-like counter. Everything is small but definitely manageable for two people. Plus, we have a terrace off the elongated living room which is especially nice in fall.

Sebastian took most of the furniture, so there’s an old couch in the living room and a small T.V. on top of a half-filled bookshelf.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you’re a minimalist,” she says with a laugh.

“Yeah, I know it’s a bit empty,” I say and open the door to the empty bedroom. It’s the bigger one of the two with a whole lot ofspace. The light tan carpet matches the white walls, and I made sure it was scrubbed to perfection.

“It’s a good foundation. I might change some things, put up wallpaper and all that, but I’ll change it back and make sure there are no damages,” she says with her hands on her hips.

I shrug. “No problem at all. If you’re living here, you should feel comfortable,” I agree.

“Cool.” She nods again, but her eyes are unfocused, like she’s already planning what she’s going to do. “It’ll be nice coming home and knowing someone is here, you know?”

“Yeah,” I admit shyly, unable to hide my smile.

“Well, I’m happy with this, and if you’re happy with me, then we’re set to get started! I don’t have a whole lot, just one or two U-Haul trips,” she says quickly.

“I can help,” I offer.

“Nah, the guys from the shop owe me,” she assures. “Just kick back and relax. We can decide what works and doesn’t, or we can unpack together with pizza and beer and get to know each other!”

A smile tugs. “That sounds great. I’ll stay out of the way for now,” I say.

As she bounces out of the apartment, already on her phone, the realization hits. I have a new roommate.

I stretch on my couch in the living room. She wasn’t bothered that none of the furniture really matches or that I don’t have much. She seems bubbly, but with a good understanding of boundaries, so I think we’ll be a good match.

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