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ThemomentScottRileysmiled at me for the first time, I felt something I'd never expected to feel around a stranger. A sense of safety. For some reason, Scott’s warm brown eyes and kind smile made me feel as if I’d be protected with him. Of course, once I realized that, I started worrying about not getting the room. What if he didn’t like me? What if he had a lot of better options than a meek, scared man like me?
The room itself was gorgeous, and for the rent he was asking, it was obscenely cheap. The room had its own en-suite bathroom, and it was dominated by a queen-sized bed, a dresser, and a closet that could store my clothes twice over. There was also a cute little nook in the corner with a lounge-like sofa that I could imagine curling up with a book in. I’d taken one look at the room and fallen in love with it. That, coupled with the fact that Scott hadn’t hit even one of my warning signals, had made me even more nervous about not getting the room.
But then he’d told me he loved the magazine I worked at, and that had helped me keep the panic at bay. And once he’d told me the room was mine to move into, I’d become totally comfortable in his company.
Which was why I was now freaking out and sitting at a table inBean Yourself—my best friend’s coffee shop—and waiting for my other best friend, Angie, to show up. The café was just a few blocks away from my workplace, which was a blessing since I loved coming here.Bean Yourselfwas situated in an old building that gave it a nice character. It was a warm, familiar space that had always comforted me since I’d started coming there a year ago. I was seated at one of the window seats, watching the people mill about on the sidewalk and making up stories for the people I saw, something that usually helped me keep a level head when my anxiety tried to pull me under.
Brady, the owner of the shop, was out running errands for the Voice Out charity—where he volunteered and where I’d first met him—so I would only get the chance to talk to Angie. I needed a second opinion, and there was no one else I’d ask it of than her anyway. She understood my hesitance in trusting people since she was in the same boat as me on that front. But she also had a level head and an ability to spot assholes I lacked, so I needed her to tell me if I was being stupid by trusting Scott so quickly. I’d been there and done that once, and I had scars to show for it. I did not want to make the same mistake again, especially if I would be sharing an apartment with him.
I looked up as Angie took the seat opposite me, a mug of her favorite dark-roast coffee in hand. In appearance, we were the complete opposites. Her blond hair was cropped short, and she had multiple piercings in her ears and brows that gave her a badass look. She wore her favorite leather jacket, paired with a black band t-shirt and black jeans. Basically, the goth teen she hadn’t had a chance to be when she’d lived with her parents.
She stared at me with narrowed eyes and examined me for a moment before saying, “Spill.”
I chewed my lower lip as I tried to figure out what to say or, rather, how to say it. “The apartment I went to see today was gorgeous. I wasn’t going to go because it has a roommate, and I didn’t want that. But it’s close to work and really cheap, so I thought I’d check it out.” I also hadn’t wanted to go alone into a stranger’s house, but I’d had to since both Angie and Brady had been busy. I’d needed to make myself realize I couldn’t always depend on them.
“Was the roommate an asshole?” Angie asked as she sipped her coffee, her eyes narrowing imperceptibly.
“Not at all. He wasnice.He reads our magazine and especially loves your column.”
Angie raised her brow at that but didn’t interrupt, so I continued talking. “You know how it takes me so long to get comfortable around people, especially men?”
“Oh, I know. It took me, what? Two months before you agreed to hang out with me?” she said dryly, giving me a cheeky grin that very few people got to see.
I smiled sheepishly. I’d been very intimidated by her when we’d first met, and it had taken Brady repeatedly telling me she was a nice person for me to finally talk to her. “Yeah, I guess. But today, I felt like I could trust Scott, even though I know nothing about him. And now, I’m freaking out because I don’t know why that is. And I don’t want to be wrong like last time.”
Angie stared at me for a few long seconds before asking, “So, you got the room?”
I nodded, her stare making me fidget in my seat. Angie had this laser-focus gaze that I swore you could feel all the way down to your soul. It was unnerving.
“When are you moving in?”
“Saturday.”
“Ask him if we can come over Friday evening.”
“Okay.” I agreed readily because the look on her face told me arguing with her would be useless. She was a phenomenal judge of characterandreally good at getting information out of people, so she’d probably find out Scott’s whole life story in one meeting, which would help me out immensely.
“Now, you’ll be coming to Mama D’s for dinner next weekend, won’t you?” she asked, and I smiled, grateful for the change of topic.
“Duh, of course. I don't want to risk her wrath by missing it.”
Mama D, AKA Delilah Sparks, was our boss, our mother, as well as the woman who'd saved my life a year ago. If it weren’t for her, I’d probably be living in a shitty-ass apartment with an equally shitty job. I—and Angie, and every other person her charity, Voice Out, had ever helped—owed my life to her.
“Good. She’s hoping you’ll bake some of her favorite cookies for her, but don’t tell her I told you that.”
I grinned. Mama D loved my chocolate chip cookies, and obviously, I loved baking them for her. “If I’m settled into my new place by then, I’ll definitely bake her some.”
“Hey now, I love your cookies too,” Angie protested,almostpouting.
“I’ll bake you some too, my bubblegum. Don’t worry.”
Angie scrunched up her nose at the nickname like I knew she would before shaking her head. She glanced at her watch before standing up. “Come on. It’s work time. And for the record, I don’t get why someone would call someone they care aboutbubblegum. I mean, you chew and spit gum. Why would you ever use the word as a pet name?”
I laughed at her very valid question as I finished my coffee and followed her fast-paced stalk, hoping that my instincts about Scott were correct and that he’d pass Angie’s test.
Once I was at my desk, I texted Scott about Friday night. His reply came a few minutes later, agreeing to the plans and letting me know that he would have dinner covered. Well, that was that. I told myself there was no point in thinking about it anymore and tried to force my brain into work mode, even if it was reluctant to comply.
It was Thursday night, and I’d decided to bake some cookies for my soon-to-be-former roommates, Angie, Mama D, and Scott. My choco-chip cookies were something everyone who knew me loved, and I figured it would be a good idea to take some to Scott’s after I'd invited myself over for dinner with Angie. Now that I'd had some time and space from the day of the interview, I wasn’t so sure if it was a good idea, but I also needed Angie to confirm that my intuition wasn’t wrong. I didn’t consider myself a good judge of character anymore. After all, I’d thought my ex was perfect, and everyone knew howthathad turned out.
