Page 19 of Safe Place

Wyatt snorts. “Micah, don’t fuck this up.”

“There isn’t anything to fuck up. Not yet, anyway.” I pause, jaw tight. “I don’t know why, but she’s always taking hits—Ella in class, some creep at the cafe. She’s not my usual type, so I keep wondering if it’s just an instinct to protect her or something.”

“Sorry to break it to you, Mic, but that instinct is not something you possess.” Grant says it with a straight face, like he's delivering a medical diagnosis. “When's the last time you had the mental space to care about anybody else but you and your calendar? This is a Sophie-specific phenomenon.”

Wyatt claps a hand on my shoulder, deadpan. “Accept it, Mic. You’re already screwed.”

SIX

We’re friends, right?

SOPHIE

I sit near the tiny coffee stand inside the student center, hands wrapped around a warm cup of tea I barely sipped. It’s quiet for once.

I glance at the time. Poppy should be here soon. I’m really hoping this works out. I need a roommate fast. Rent for the full apartment is due next month, and the landlord made it clear: no exceptions after this one. And I can’t afford to carry it all on my own.

I dig through my bag and pull out a small, worn notebook. It’s a habit I’ve kept for years—writing down my thoughts whenever I get the chance—which I don’t get much of. It helps. Especially when nothing else makes sense.

I feel like everything has been piling up lately, one thing after another, and I’m just trying to stay a step ahead before it all collapses on me. Some days it feels like I’m barely holding the pieces together. Still, something strange is happening this semester. I didn’t expect to meet anyone new. I thought I’d just keep my head down, get through my classes, and move quietly through it all like I always do. But somehow, people have found their way in anyway. Micah and Grant from class, and now I’m about to meet someone who might become my roommate. It’s strange, letting the possibility of something new exist in my life. But for the first time in a while, I think I might be a little hopeful. I just hope it goes well.

If I were guaranteed success in one thing, I’d be a writer. I’ve always loved it. I do the best in my writing classes—my professors said as much. That’s actually how I got the recommendations to be a tutor. But writing doesn’t come with stability. Not unless you’re one of the lucky ones. And I’m not lucky. I need something real. Something certain. And that’s why I need to become a lawyer.

I need to protect myself. I need to understand the system, learn how it works—so I never end up powerless again. I need to be intimidating. Nobody messes with a lawyer. I’ll never go back to how it was. Not with my mom. Not with my stepfather.

It’s been almost three years since I emancipated myself. Three years since I signed my own forms, found my own apartment, filed my own taxes. There were so many moments I didn’t think I could do this. I didn’t know how. But I’m still here, still standing. And I’ll keep going—because I have to.

The door opens, and the girl walking in has to be Poppy—her energy matches her emails almost exactly. Her hair is a light brown, almost blonde in the right lighting, and it falls past her shoulders in loose waves. There’s a simple yellow barrette clipped to one side. It’s nothing flashy, but it suits her. And her eyes—green, clear, striking—scan the room before landing on me. She’s stunning.

She offers a confident smile, like she’s already decided this won’t be awkward.

I sit up a little straighter. Please let this go well.

She walks over with a small wave and a warm smile. “Hi, are you Sophie? I’m Poppy Reed.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say, standing to shake her hand, “So, you need a place to live?”

She nods. “Yeah. My lease ends at the end of this month, and I really need something fast. I’d love to be closer to the school. My current commute is like an hour. And that’s by driving, too.”

There’s something instantly likable about her. She feels easy to talk to. She tells me she’s a biology major, hoping to go to medical school after graduating. “I have a scholarship for tuition, thankfully, but that didn’t cover housing,” she adds with a dry smile. “So I work part-time in the student events office—flyers, setups, helping with programming. Pays just enough to keep me alive.”

I nod, already feeling a strange sort of relief. She doesn’t seem high-maintenance or judgmental. Just real. And maybe it’s too soon to say, but something about her makes me think we could actually be friends. My first real friend in years. Well—aside from Micah, I guess. We’re friends, right?

After a few more minutes of easy conversation, I check the time and glance back at her. “Want to check out the apartment now? I was going to grab an Uber if you're up for it.”

She shakes her head, smiling. “No need—I’ve got a car. It’s old and loud, but she’s loyal.”

We walk across campus to the student center parking lot, still chatting as we go. She leads us to an old dark green car parked near the edge of the lot and unlocks the driver’s side door manually with a key. When she turns the ignition, the car rattles loudly like it’s coughing itself awake.

“Sorry about the noise,” she says, laughing as she pats the dashboard. “Betty’s a little dramatic, but she still gets me where I need to go.”

“Betty sounds like a charm.” I smile as I buckle in. Between her quiet confidence and her honesty, I feel the tension I usually carry start to slip. Maybe this could work.

The apartment tour doesn’t take long because there’s not much to see. Two tiny bedrooms, a bathroom with low water pressure, a cramped kitchen barely big enough for one person to stand in, and a living room. I feel myself getting a little self-conscious as we do the quick loop.

“I know it’s not much,” I say as we return to the front door. “I’m taking eighteen credits this semester and working three jobs, so honestly, I’m barely here. You’ll have plenty of space to yourself.”

Poppy’s eyes are lit up, her gaze drifting across the room like she’s seeing something entirely different than I am. “I love it,” she says, beaming. “It already feels like a fresh start.”