She gave the bathroom, opposite her room, a quick wave. “It’s small, but it could be worse.”

I noted that, although the bathroom measured half the size of the one at Sam’s place, it didn’t feel cramped. The pedestal sink, tub, and toilet abutted the wall shared with my bedroom. White tile covered the walls to about midway, except for the shower area where the tiles ran from tub to ceiling. Dark-blue paint coated the walls and offset the overabundance of white. She’d also defused the white of the plastic shower curtain by layering a dark-blue, cloth shower curtain over it and used a cute, white flower clip to swag it to the side. Everything looked neat and clean.

Finally, she led us to the kitchen. An addition there extended the room five feet into the backyard and brought it from worthless to functional. Just inside the kitchen arch, to the right, a table for four sat against the interior wall. Along the wall that faced the driveway, a wall-to-wall counter supported the sink and provided four cupboards. Two separate wall cupboards hung on either side of the sink, allowing light through the kitchen’s only window. The refrigerator stood to the left of the arched kitchen entry, along with four more cupboards top and bottom. Standing free, the stove occupied the unclaimed space on the exterior wall. Just enough room separated the cabinetry from the stove to allow the bottom cabinet door to swing open. A garbage can hid between the stove and the door that led to the wooden deck and backyard.

Overall, the exterior condition of the house didn’t match the inside. The exposed carpet in the living room looked worn but relatively stain-free. The walls and ceiling could use a fresh coat of paint, but with the string of switching roommates over the last five years, the landlord probably hadn’t had a chance.

Rachel concluded the tour on the back deck.

“We’ll take turns mowing the lawn and shoveling the snow, and since it’s only a one-car garage, we’ll switch parking, too. But we’ll work that out when it starts snowing.”

I nodded in agreement as I looked at our small backyard. A new looking barn-red wooden fence separated our yard from the neighbor’s behind us while evergreen hedges barred the rest of the yard from the neighbor’s on each side. With the deck and garage, there really wasn’t a lot of grass to mow in back, but the front yard made up for it a bit. It reminded me of the Newton’s place, and I suffered an uncomfortable moment of longing before I strangled the feeling.

During the tour, Sam had remained quiet as he followed us and scrutinized the house. Outside, he stood beside me, studying the backyard as well.

“Well, Gabby, looks like you’ll be comfortable here. I’d better start heading back. You need anything, let me know.” He patted my cheek and stepped off the deck, neither of us comfortable with drawn out goodbyes.

I watched him climb into his truck and waved when he looked back. Again, my emotions ran amuck for a few moments as he pulled away, nostalgia robbing me of my moment. I’d been so ready to leave and start out on my own I’d not inspected my feelings for Sam too closely. Now I knew. I’d miss him. A lot.

Rachel seemed to understand my mood as we went back into the house.

“You have a nice grandpa,” she said, sitting on my bed as I unpacked.

I agreed and tried to shake the unhappiness that lingered. Less than five hours ago, I had looked forward to making my own rules. Here, in this house, I had the freedom I’d wanted. No more obligatory weekends in Canada. No meeting men I didn’t want to meet. My internal pep talk began to work, and I started to unpack with more enthusiasm.

Rachel took a few of the wire hangers from the closet and helped hang the tshirts I’d crammed into a bag.

“Please tell me there is more in these bags than tshirts,” she said. “I don’t mind them—they’re comfy—but where’s the clothes for going out?”

“Um, I really don’t own any.” Watching her while I said it, I didn’t miss the shocked expression that briefly flitted over her features. I looked over my small pile of clothes, most of them already on hangers thanks to her help. They lacked diversity. I’d never noticed before.

She changed the subject. “Got your bathing suit handy? With the backyard surrounded, the deck is perfect for working on a tan. Join me when you’re done.” Without waiting for my answer, she popped up from the bed and left the room.

Bathing suit? I didn’t even own one. I finished unpacking and heard the back door a few minutes later.

Tucking my suitcase under the bed, I covered the mattress with the sheets from Sam. Instead of feeling sad, a new feeling bloomed. Resolve. I needed this, living here with Rachel, someone my own age. Well, close to it. And female. Normal things like lying out in the sun had escaped me over the years. She’d help me catch up. That she didn’t seem adversely affected by me, gave me hope. Granted, she hadn’t yet faced rejection from a man because of me. Maybe we could work on becoming friends first. Who knew, it could help prevent the ugly hostility I’d grown accustomed to. I liked the idea of having a real friend. Sure, I had Paul and Henry, but I wanted a friend of the same gender.

I changed into the shortest shorts I owned and a strapless top that Barb had given me for my eighteenth birthday. I’d kept in touch with my foster parents because of their insistence. Even though they had a beautiful little girl of their own, they still thought of me, especially on my birthday. Feeling light at heart, I headed out to the deck.

Rachel turned her sunglassed-gaze my way when I closed the screen door.

“Where’s your suit?” she asked curiously.

“I don’t own one,” I admitted, lying on my stomach on the cartoon beach towel she’d laid out for me. “Didn’t want to embarrass my grandpa. He’s a little old school.” Honestly, I kept my wardrobe modest because it was safe...and I hadn’t wanted him to suggest I bring a swimsuit with me to Canada.

“Really? You don’t own one?” She propped herself up on her elbows and glanced at me over the top of her sunglasses. A wide smile spread over her lips. “Wanna go shopping? I’ll use any excuse to go.”

I hesitated. If I declined, we’d be starting out on a poor note. If I said yes, we’d most likely have an issue with guys somewhere along the way. But if I didn’t say yes, how could I hope to win her over as a friend? Any normal girl probably wouldn’t even stop to think about this. I really wanted to try for normal.

“Sure, let me go change,” I agreed.

“Yay!” She jumped up, grabbed both towels, and danced into the house behind me.

Since she had the car, she drove us to an outlet mall that she promised was the best and cheapest place to shop. Stunning in a tank top, short shorts, and cute little sandals with a heel, she outshined my drab, worn t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Still, I twisted my fingers in my lap and tried to quell my worry.

“While we’re here, we should look for some clubbing clothes for you.” She pulled into an open space and parked the car. “And don’t be afraid to tell me if I’m being too pushy. I love shopping, but have too many clothes already. By shopping for someone else, I get my fix without adding to the mayhem in my closet.”

“No, you’re not being pushy. I could use a swimsuit and a few new tops. But, I have to be honest...I’m not really into the party scene. Guys act too weird around me, and it makes me uncomfortable.”

“Weird how?” she asked as she reached for the door.

“Wait.”

She paused, turning to look at me.

I’d rather tell her where no one else would overhear. I took a deep breath. Normal. I needed to sound normal.

“Every friendship I’ve ever had was ruined by competition over a guy. Only problem was, I was never competing. I wasn’t interested in the guy my friend was. But the guy was interested in me.”