Page 3 of Seeds of Friendship
I look back at the three guys in the waiting room. Troy's attempting to make conversation with a stone-faced Alfie. Ethan appears to be asleep sitting up.
“What if I don't know three other people?”
She looks at me over her glasses. “Then you find off-campus housing. Good luck with that on move-in day.”
Fuck.
I head back to the waiting room. “So, uh, weird question...”
Twenty minutes later, we're all standing in the housing office while the worker—Kelly, according to her name tag—explains our options with the enthusiasm of someone describing their own funeral.
“It's a four-bedroom house on Oak Street. Full kitchen, two bathrooms, and a living room. Usually reserved for seniors, but”—she shrugs—“I guess you guys are lucky.”
“We'll take it,” Troy says immediately.
“We will?” Alfie looks horrified.
“You got a better option?” Troy shoots back.
“Living alone. Literally anywhere else. A cardboard box.”
“Look,” I interrupt, “none of us are thrilled about this. But it's this or sleeping in our cars.”
“I don't have a car,” Ethan pipes up, slightly more conscious now. “Took an Uber here. Cost me a fortune.”
We all stare at him.
“It seemed like a good idea earlier,” he defends.
Kelly slides papers across the desk. “If you're doing this, I need signatures now.”
“We won’t be staying in it,” I reply. “We just need somewhere to live this year. Then next year, we’ll find somewhere else that’s more…suitable.” The idea of staying in a house with these three guys any longer than necessary is enough motivation to sort out housing early.
Troy grabs a pen first. “Fuck it. Can't be worse than the guy who wants my head.”
“Jesus Christ,” Alfie mutters, but he signs too.
Ethan signs without even reading it.
“Thank you,” Kelly murmurs to us all.
I stare at the paper. A year with these three strangers. A guy who compares himself to Jesus. A walking hangover. And someone who looks like he might murder us in our sleep.
“The house comes furnished,” Kelly adds. “The house is yours for the full year, renewable too if you want to stay in it. You’ll get first dibs.”
“We definitely won't need that,” Alfie says quickly.
“God no,” Ethan agrees.
Troy nods. “Obviously.”
I sign the paper.
Kelly hands Troy the keys. “Oak Street. Big white house. Try your best to look after it, ok?”
We walk out together, awkward as fuck. Four strangers who just agreed to live together because we're all too incompetent to handle basic adult tasks. Literally, the first challenge since flying the nest and becoming adults.
“So,” Troy says, jingling the keys, “who’s up for seeing the bone zone?”
