Become a Book Nerd
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Looking at the bulletin at the laundromat, I look for more roomie ads. Skimming my finger across the different fliers, dog walker, concerts, plant sitter, here we go! Roommates, I hope this one is better than the last one. I have been looking for a few weeks while staying with a college friend and the last place I looked at the ad was a drug dealer so he had stoners coming in at all hours of the day. And the places before that were surprisingly not much better. I shake that memory and look at the location and tear off a number. I dial while looking at other posters, ring ring. They pick up! “Hello? I am calling about the ad for the roommate?” I hope this works out, Benji, the dude I’m staying with is great, but it’s really awkward when he brings his girlfriend home. “Yes, yes that’s me, when are you free to see the place?” Finally, hope. “Actually, I’m free now if that works,” I suggest.
“Great! It’s not as clean as it could be, so don’t judge.” “I will sure try.” I assured.
I grab the laundry basket with my and Benji’s clothes and put the address into google maps. I walk over there because my most common method of transportation is running, but that’s a bit difficult when you are carrying bins of clothes. It takes me about ten minutes to get there, and I’m a bit sweaty.
I call her again to double check the building and floor, she lets me in and I take the elevator to the fourth floor. There’s only so much running a girl can do. Walking through the hallway, I notice the exposed brick, the vintage numbers on the doors, and the cool white painted, double hung windows at the end of each hall. I assume it’s to let in more natural light. The air is still cool and damp from the rain last night and the heat from the fresh clothes is fading. I walk up to door 139. I set the basket on the ground and knock, a knot ties in my stomach. The door opens with a faint creak and a kind face pops out. “Hello,” She exclaims cheerfully. “You’re the one looking for the apartment?” I smile, and nod, picking up the basket. “Don’t judge me, it’s laundry day and I didn’t have a lot of turnaround time.”
“It’s chill, come in.” Her face is small, and soft. Pale with a few freckles and hopeful and colored like the Earth, blue and green colliding and blending. I step in, and I’m in love, she can tell. It’s sun-splashed with a large window that over looks the streets below. “Can you tell me a bit about the place and you? I wanna know what I’m getting into, if you don’t mind.” I ask.
“Well,” As she talks I observe the room, it’s large with soaring ceilings. “I live here alone, and there are two extra bedrooms currently.” The sun shines on the exposed brick and gets into the crevasse of the scratched floor. “I don’t do a ton in the kitchen, so help yourself, um what else? Oh yeah, I can work from anywhere really,” I give her a confused look, “I’m a website designer so as long as I have wifi and a laptop, I’m good.” “Awesome, well I should let you know that I like to bake, so I may utilize the kitchen a bit, umm, I’m a barista at Screamin’ Beans, I think that I’m fairly respectable and know my boundaries.” I talk while still scanning the room, the built in bookshelves made of old pipes and the exposed beams on the ceiling are dope. There’s a really cool lighting fixture with a dozen or so edison bulbs, I can’t find one thing I don’t like. We talk for a while longer about price, chores, and other things in that realm. We talk for an hour or so, but then I have to head out for my shift. I think about the kitchen and the cute backsplash of tile and A. I think it’s going to work out, she seems sweet enough. I text Benji about the news. I tell him how the apartment reminds me of the ones hipsters have in Tv shows because it’s just so aesthetically pleasing.
I text A and ask to meet at the cafe tomorrow so we can talk more about the apartment and she agrees. I really have high hopes for this place.
A few days later, I start moving in! It’s a bit awkward for the first bit because we don’t really know each other and now we are living together, but we will figure it out. I boxed up all my stuff the day before, so I was ready. We borrowed her boyfriends car, I don’t know why I don’t like him. He seems nice, It’s just weird. Anyway, Benji is out of town with his family, so it’s just the three of us. We don’t live to far away, but it’s still a struggle to get all my stuff over there. I am super stoked to decorate my new room, because at Benji’s I knew I wasn’t going to stay there for a while, so I didn’t really decorate. I didn’t have a ton, mostly clothes, baking supplies, and bedroom miscellaneous. We plot on the queen size bed and pick up a few boxes. I got one with some of my clothes and hangers, and she got the one with memories and photos. I hang up my clothes while she goes through the photos. “Was this really you?” She says with shock, “Heh, yeah…” I snickered. “What a glow-up.” She exclaims analyzing the picture, then me. She looks up, “Hey that’s really cute!” she points at the acid-washed short overalls in my hand.
“You can borrow it if you want, what size are you?” I ask
“Well, I’m a 10 but I like baggy clothes if you can’t tell.” She gestures to her outfit, some ripped jean shorts, a huge hoodie, which I assume to be her boyfriends, some red converse, and a beanie. “Cool,” I toss it to her, “Try it on.” I offer. She grins, “You might want to look away, I forgot to wear an actual shirt,” She mentions. I smile, “It’s chill, I do that all the time actually.” while she takes off her hoodie, “I do that too often, really. ” She admits. I turn back, smiling “You look dope!” I assure.
“It feels great!” It’s a bit big, but it works on her, the floral bralette, the messy updo, and the sneakers. “You look like your going to a summer concert!” “Really, you don’t think it’s too revealing?” She asked. “Nah, I would wear that any day!” She smiles assuredly, I think we’re going to be friends. A rocky start is better than no start. We learn quite a bit about me as we unpack, my love for decor, books, and what not. She gets a fun look at my past, and pins one of my pictures on the wall. It’s the old polaroid with my girlfriend (who my parents didn’t know about). “This one’s cute.” She comments. “Thanks, she’s an old friend.” She raises an eyebrow, “What kind of friend,” she snarks. I chortle, “a friend.” I’ll leave that up to her connotation.
Time flies, and soon we’re down to our last box. It’s full of blankets and pillows, which gives me an idea.
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