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July 15th

Serotonin slammed back into my system bite by bite as I munched away on the world’s most breathtaking slice of avocado toast. It was gourmet: focaccia bread with a playful drizzle of balsamic vinegar and crumbled goat cheese—the kind I could only get here at Casa Maison Domo, or Triple House as it was known by us locals. I was soaking in the much-needed California sunshine on the patio seating as my two best friends not-so-patiently waited for me to regale them about my trip.

“You know,” Andie pointed out from where she and Rick had arranged themselves across the table from me, in classic new-couple behavior, “I feel pretty confident that they had avocado toast in Canada.”

“You sure?” I responded through my blissful haze. “Because I thought all they had was dismal weather and an excess of cousins.”

Rick snorted into his fluffy stack of honey and cinnamon French toast that I was definitely not coveting.

I had suggested to Marla, as had Mom and other choice members of the family, that we would be more than happy to host her wedding here in California, at home, at the Barclay homestead, where there would be perfect weather. But for whatever reason, she had insisted that she and Steven had found a lovely bed and breakfast not far from where they would be moving. In rainy Vancouver.

Well. One’s cousin presumably only gets married once, so alas, sacrifices must be made.

I tried, as discreetly as possible, to check my phone under the table—Darren had finally texted back after more than an hour of radio silence: When are you headed over? I’m still trapped in this meeting

I responded with one hand, relishing the final bites of avocado heaven with the other. Ok, don’t be trapped too long, I’m gonna finish this brunch and then smooch the life out of you

Ideally, Darren would’ve met me at the airport, and we could’ve had one of those deeply romantic reunions that make everyone else uncomfortable. But my boyfriend was two-hours deep in what sounded like the meeting from hell, and it was a pleasant surprise that he’d been able to discreetly text me anyway.

It’s the little things.

As it was, Rick and Andie had ended up on Lucas Pick-Up Duty, and as expected, they’d waited for me amongst the crowd in Arrivals, arms around each other as if I might already have forgotten that they had recently decided You know what our trio of friends needs? For two of us to start dating and then kick the third-wheel friend out of our shared apartment.

Which was fine. Really. Because I was happy for them, and yes, I had always kind of expected this to happen, and yes, they had assured me that this didn’t mean they were kicking me out of our friend group, but still.

It was the principle of the matter.

I took a deep, cleansing breath, having left nothing but focaccia crumbs on my plate (which was a problem for future me and my personal trainer). “You may engage now,” I announced with a satisfied grin.

“You already know what we’re gonna ask,” said Rick eagerly—we always did this when someone returned from traveling. “Weird airplane stories. Go.”

Over the years we’d collected several memorable Incidents, and for a horrifying moment, I couldn’t think of anything that had marred an ideal two and a half hours of international travel.

Well. Except.

“Okay, so this wasn’t technically from the plane,” I began, “but you’re going to let me count it on the grounds that I generously lent you my car while I was gone.”

“That’s fair,” Andie agreed. “Hit us.”

“Picture, if you will, a hulky, shaggy-haired werewolf still enamored of his goth-punk phase, who sleepwalked into an airport and has no idea how he got there and has even less idea how to leave.”

Rick and Andie dissolved into identical wheezy giggles, which was new. “Okay, but did he howl at the fluorescent lights?” Andie managed, asking the real question.

“I need you to understand that he did absolutely nothing. There I was, having a delightful text chat with Darren that I will not be sharing with you, and he’s just hunched up next to me and fully ignores me when I say hi. I think he may have grunted, but that’s it.”

“Yep,” Rick said, “that’s a werewolf.”

Andie perched her elbows on the table and grinned. “But, like, a hot werewolf?”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “So ... a werewolf?”

“Oh my god, Lucas, stop encouraging her,” Rick complained. We all laughed, and it was like our old vibe, before the two of them became a closed unit.

We ended our brunch after Rick and Andie had told me all about their week in a series of anecdotes that they tried to keep from seeming romantic.

The three of us chatted all the way back to our—their—apartment, where we staged a car-hostage exchange situation. “Thanks for hanging onto my stuff for me,” I said as we added a few more moving boxes to my already packed little car. “I would’ve left the fish with you guys too, but I’d prefer them to live.”

Andie gasped in mock offense. “That was one time!”

Rick touched her shoulder. “It was multiple times. Lucas, you were right to leave them with Darren. He’s many things, but I trust that he’s not a fish-killer.”

There was an awkward breath between them at the mention of my boyfriend. However, I wasn’t particularly in the mood to hear another round of them not-so-subtly voicing their dislike of Darren McKinley, a dislike that had been going strong since we were all in high school together nearly ten years ago.

“I think I’m going to check out the new place,” I said brightly, because they were not going to bring their conspiracy theories into my perfectly nice day. “I’ll swing by for the rest of my things tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

Rick and Andie agreed, and after a three-way hug and me thanking them for the pick-up, I slid back into my car, adjusted the seat, and left them waving from their front porch.

My new apartment, the one I’d had to sign a monthly lease for at the very last minute after Rick and Andie had decided that they just couldn’t embark on a romantic relationship with another person living with them, was all the way across town. I had, in passing, brought up the possibility to Darren of us moving in together, but he had reasoned that it felt too early in our relationship for that.

Which made sense. A decade of friendship and an on-again-off-again situation notwithstanding, four months of a solid relationship might seem a bit soon to move in.

Rick and Andie would never need to know that I had no intention of heading to my new alone-person apartment until absolutely necessary. Darren should be out of his meeting at this point, and I was itching to see him.

I pulled up to the McKinley estate and shot Darren a text, lamenting yet again that I didn’t have a spare key. It had been on his to-do list for a couple of weeks, but the case he was working on kept him busy more hours than was remotely preferable.

My phone buzzed a minute later.

Darren: so sorry, held up with work

Darren: I want to see you but if I don’t finish this, they’ll kill me :(

Disappointment lodged in my throat the longer I stared at the message. Deeply suspicious that somehow, cosmically, Rick and Andie had something to do with this particular planet misalignment, I now had no course of action except to drive to the Briars apartment complex and try my best to settle in.

After a quick stop at the housing office to pick up my keys and sign the remaining paperwork, I made my way to apartment 203.

It was ... well, the only word I could find to describe it was quaint. Less LA and more cottage-core chic than I’d been expecting. Nothing that some nice accoutrements wouldn’t fix though. Luckily it was fully furnished with a lovely island in the center of the modest kitchen.

My roommate (“Armand Demetrio,” according to the lease) must’ve moved in already—there was a faint but lingering stench of cigarette smoke, and a light trail of dust and dirt that ran directly from the front door to the first bedroom on the right.

A roommate who isn’t my best friends or my boyfriend. This is fine—better than fine. It’s ideal, even.

I dragged my suitcase to the other bedroom, reminding myself with every step that this was only temporary. On my way back into the living room with a handful of personal effects, my eyes returned to the trail of dirt in the hallway.

My fingers twitched. Quickly, I grabbed the provided cleaning supplies from the hall closet.

What about the counters? Were they sanitized before we got here? I made a beeline to the sink and got to work wiping off all the counters and anything that could possibly be mistaken for an eating surface.

There. I’d done the bare minimum.

After ordering a grocery delivery from the vegan market on 7th, I spent the next few hours unpacking and immaculately arranging the living room into a habitable area. I still needed to get the rest of my things from Rick and Andie’s, but the essentials had made it in on the first try. I was going to turn this house (well, apartment) into a home (well, acceptable living space) through the sheer force of my will.

Fleetingly, I considered leaving a note for my mysterious roommate, but resisted the impulse. If I had the choice, I would much rather greet Mr. Demetrio in person tomorrow.

But that didn’t mean I couldn’t do some internet stalking.