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The rest of the day is a little like that: him setting up his space, me getting used to sharing mine. We run into each other as he’s coming out of the bathroom. We both reach for the refrigerator door at the same time, bumping hands. It’s not a cute, romantic comedy bump either, but a clash that splays my fingers with his knuckles and leaves me shaking out my stinging hand.

I start to notice things about him—little mannerisms that infringe on my personal space. He sings constantly. His voice is actually quite nice, and the volume is just a hint above a whisper, but he repeats the same parts of a song over and over as if he’s fine-tuning his voice.

He also smells—not bad. It’s a faint trace of aftershave or maybe deodorant. He’ll walk by, and I’ll catch a whiff, and every time it happens, I give the smell a different name: Thunder Rush or Iron Rebellion.

He grunts when he lifts things. There’s one piece of hair that constantly gets in his eyes. His T-shirt looks too small around his biceps.

I know that my annoyance is my brain’s reaction to the disruption in its predictive coding system. It’s used to being quiet and alone, and all of this new information it’s having to process is causing it to work harder, and it’s not really into that.

There’s also a tiny part of me that wonders if I’ve made a mistake, if I should have sent Mackenzie Smith on his way, the moment I realized the mix-up. Am I going to be regretting that split-second decision for the next few months?

My stomach begins to growl around six o’clock. On a normal Saturday, I’d be ordering Thai food right about now. I finally retrieve my phone from my purse and scroll through the menu I know by heart when it occurs to me that proper protocol might be to ask Mackenzie if he’s hungry.

But what if he is?

What if I order extra tonight and then next weekend he returns the favor? But he orders from the gross place two blocks down instead of the good place three blocks up?

What if he orders generic chain pizza?

I don’t know if I’m ready for a food-sharing relationship. I don’t know if I’m ready for a roommate. Maybe I’ll just order and eat in my room, and then—

“Annalise.”

It takes me a moment to realize he’s called my name. The way he’s staring at me, I don’t think that was the first attempt to get my attention.

He’s paused with the fridge half open.

“I was going to order dinner. I don’t have much in the fridge yet. Is there anywhere in particular you’d recommend, and are you hungry?”

My panic from a moment ago suddenly seems a little overblown.

“Sukho Thai. It’s the best spot around. I recommend the shrimp khao soi.”

He nods, “Sounds great. Is that what you’d like?”

I hold up my phone. “I can order for us. They sort of know me there.”

He smiles. “Even better.” Then he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out cash, tossing it onto the counter. “I’m moving all my bank stuff to one down here, so I’ve got cash until I get myself sorted.”

I nod. How was this all so simple?

Our food arrives thirty-five minutes later. I eat mine on the couch. He leaves his plate on the kitchen counter, stealing bites as he moves around the apartment, as if he is getting ready to go out somewhere.

When he finally sits down next to me, most of his food is already eaten.

“Not sure what you’re up to tonight.” He spears a shrimp with his fork. “I’ve got my first gig with the new band. We’ve got a practice in an hour, but then we’re playing the Gladstone at ten if you want to come and watch.”

I almost tell him that I have a standing date with my couch but stop myself. “Do you think you’ll be playing a lot of weekends?”

He nods and swallows his food. “We’re pretty booked up, I think. Gigs Thursday through Sunday with the occasional Tuesday or Wednesday. I’ll be gone most nights and home pretty late. I hope that’s not a problem.”

It’s not a problem at all. He’ll be out playing. I’ll have my TV all to myself.

“That sounds great,” I tell him. “Thanks for the invite, but I’m probably going to stay in. It’s been kind of a long week.”

He gets to his feet, his plate now empty, then reaches for my empty one on the coffee table. “You done?”

I nod. “Yeah.”