Page 3 of A Play For The Heart
“Sorry,” I mumble, glancing down at my phone and reading the message that popped onto the screen.
Henry: Have you landed yet?
Me:In the Uber now.
I word-vomited my
entire life story to the driver.
Henry:Seems like you just
made a new best friend.
Don’t need me anymore.
Me:Trust me, this man is counting down the seconds
until I get out of his crappy Honda Civic.
You’re safe.
Henry:His loss.Your ability to
overshare is one of my
favorite things about you.
Me:Some say overshare, I say connect with
people through personal anecdotes.
Henry:Atta girl.
Way to spin it.
Spending the rest of the uncomfortable car ride scrolling on my phone, I gaze up from the screen right as the driver pulls up to my new apartment building. Muttering a thank you and crawling out from the back seat, I not-so-gracefully haul all my worldly possessions onto the curb without help from the unfriendly man in the driver’s seat. The moment I pull the last suitcase from the trunk, he zooms off with a vengeance. Not even a goodbye.
Good riddance.
I drag my suitcases behind me through the dimly lit—slightly dilapidated—lobby. The lights occasionally flicker around me, and I haul my ass to the elevator. The rent is affordable, so I casually wipe the scary lobby from my memory. Stopping on the 17thfloor, I step out of the elevator and haul my belongings in the direction of my new apartment. 1707 the door reads. I stare at the number for a breath longer than what would be considered normal. If staring at apartment doors surrounded by luggage could even be considered normal behavior in the first place.
You got this. Just knock on the door. Simple.
My pep talk does the job and I manage to muster up the courage to bang on the door.
Outside of the text messages I’ve exchanged with her about the apartment, I’ve never met my roommate. Normal Sawyer would never move across the country into an apartment with a roommate she’s never met, but Normal Sawyer apparently took a long vacation to the Caribbean and left the slightly unhinged version of Sawyer behind to make decisions. I hope Vacation Sawyer is enjoying her fruity cocktail on the beach because when she comes back she and I are going to have words. Her lack of responsibility is how I ended up standing in front of the door to my new apartment. To say I’m only slightly nervous would be the understatement of the year. More like I’m close to vomiting up the crackers I ate on the plane.
What if she’s messy?I think to myself.Worse, what if she’s really into collecting antique Victorian dolls? The ones that look like they’ve been haunted for the last century.Tingles travel down my spine and I shudder at the thought right as the door swings open.
My eyes make contact with a whole lot of collarbone. Peering upwards, I get a good look at my new roommate. The only word that flutters through my mind isgiant.I can’t exactly explain what I had expected Maren Rivers to look like, but the person standing across from me is definitely not what I had imagined.
Wearing a “save our seas” t-shirt and ripped jeans, she must be nearly six feet tall and looks like she could have been an Amazon warrior in a past life. Wavy, brown hair falls to her shoulders and a pair of shark teeth earrings dangle from her ears. She looks badass.
Right before I can stare for a moment too long, Maren reaches out her hand.
“Hey, I’m Maren,” she says, shaking my hand, “you must be Sawyer, come on in.” I silently move to the side as she grabs one of my suitcases and brings it into the apartment. My eyes linger on the spot where my half-ton suitcase sat, my mind unable to comprehend how easily she grabbed the bag. It took every muscle in my body to drag that thing around and she just picked it up like it was a cotton ball. Hesitantly, I follow behind Maren, lugging my suitcase with much less grace.
“This is the apartment; your room is on the right and the spare bathroom is down the hall.” I shuffle towards my room taking in the layout as I go. The kitchen and living room are open concept and the space is well decorated, with tasteful art covering the walls. A massive gray couch sits at the center of the room, full of fluffy, blue throw pillows with a thick oak coffee table sitting in front. Across from the couch is a large TV mounted to the wall, but the feature that stops me dead in my tracks is the floor-to-ceiling windows that boast an incredible view of the ocean.
