“Coffee for you, and tea for you.” Allie extended two giant mismatched mugs to Charleigh and me.

“I can’t believe I haven’t met a single American who likes tea.”

“You’re in the Pacific Northwest, babe. Land of great coffee and the best garage bands in the world,” Allie explained, reaching for her own mug, a cup with yet another design and shape.

“Are you from Portland?” Charleigh asked, looking up at me.

“No.” I shook my head and carefully set my cup on the small table beside me, watching as billows of steam evaporated into the air. “I’m from Montana, actually.”

“Montana?”

“Yup.”

“Is that where your roommate is from as well?” I repeated Charleigh’s question in my head a few times, memorizing the notes as she spoke.

“No. She’s from here.”

“How did you meet her?” Charleigh took a seat beside me, her eyes wide with interest.

I took a deep breath and released it nearly instantly. “I replied to an ad.”

“You found your roommate through an ad?” Allie turned her full focus to me “That’s crazy! She could be all single-white-female crazy.” Allie’s brown eyes were wide, and I could tell her imagination was starting to run with possibilities as to why I had truly left my apartment.

My soft laughter was inevitable. “I don’t think she’s that kind of crazy.”

“You never know.” Allie’s eyes were still stretched, catching on the light of the lamp, leading me to inspect the chestnut shade with amber tints around the edges. I couldn’t help it. Art has always been something I have loved and always led me to carefully inspecting every color, shape, texture, and movement that many disregard.

“I guess it’s a good thing I can model my way onto a couch, then, right?”

They both laughed, and I traced their faces, noting Charleigh’s upper lip, which was slightly more pronounced than the lower—became even fuller when she smiled. And that Allie’s nose bunched up and her nostrils flared in an endearing fashion.

“As long as you can learn to walk in heels,” Allie said, nodding to my flip-flop exposed feet.

“Heels … right.”

I ROLL over and try to get comfortable. It was only a few days later that their couch became an important surface to store materials with such limited space, thus leaving me to the floor. But I don’t mind. The friendly memory tickles my mind as I search for sleep.

“HEY, LAUREN, would you be interested in going to dinner with Celeste and me? We’re going to that Chinese place you like.”

I look over to Kenzie and try to hide my surprise. It’s been over a month since she has made an attempt to be friendly toward me. Most would likely think this is because I complained about her disgusting habit of inviting strange men over, leading me to sleep downstairs on the floor, but it’s not. I don’t know why I still haven’t voiced my objection. Actually, I probably do. I’m sure it has something to do with the fact that I can’t afford to live in Portland by myself, don’t know anyone looking for a roommate, and as lame as this sounds, I want her to like me.

I’m still not certain why she was looking for a roommate, because according to Charleigh, she can afford this place on her own without a problem based upon her wardrobe. Her clothes are all designer, made to look vintage and worn. I may have eventually noticed that all of her clothes were laden with popular and expensive names, but it was Charleigh who noticed one day while she was up visiting me as I finished a portrait of her that I was working on.

Kenzie had returned home and was changing her clothes, throwing her dirty clothes in a pile on the floor. Charleigh’s jaw dropped. Initially, I thought it was because Kenzie was naked; she had little concern for modesty. Then Charleigh’s eyes moved across the room. “How did you get the winter collection already? It’s not out until next month!”

My charcoal hovered over the surface of my canvas, and I followed Charleigh’s eyes over to Kenzie. I have always loved fashion. I guess it goes with being an artist—my clothes are yet another form of art—however, my clothing budget has always been sparse, forcing me to be creative with used clothing stores and sale racks, intermingled with a few more expensive items that I can mix and match. Charleigh smiled with appreciation, and the two discussed designers and brands that I had never heard of as I finished my drawing.

I guess you could say Charleigh in many ways bridged the relationship between Kenzie and me because, after their conversation, Kenzie started to spend fewer nights going out and more of them with Allie, Charleigh, and me.

A month later, Kenzie invited us to the party that changed way too much, and yet nothing, for me. It’s where I met him. Charleigh and Allie weren’t able to attend—they had a previous engagement with some other design students—but I chose to step outside of my comfort zone and go along.

The next several days following the party, everything was normal between Kenzie and me. She would tell me about her dates. Charleigh would try to make different teas in an attempt to convert us. The three of them discussed fall fashion trends. Everything was following what had become a familiar and comfortable routine. Then one day, it stopped. Kenzie’s tone became petulant when directed toward me, and she avoided eye contact with me at all costs. She started spending less time at the apartment again and more time avoiding my calls and messages as I worked to apologize for whatever I had done.

“I can’t go tonight. I had to get more canvases for class. It’s Top Ramen for me until I get paid next week. Thanks for the invite, though.”

Something flashes across Kenzie’s face, and her eyes narrow in question. “Do you like kids?”

“I don’t know if I want my own, but other people’s I like.”

My eyebrows draw down as her brown eyes grow wide and bright. “I have the perfect job for you!” she cries, jumping up from her bed.

“I have a job.”

“Yeah, but this one pays more.”

“What is it?”

“A nanny!”

“I have no experience being a nanny.”

“It doesn’t matter! You just need to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself. She’s totally easy. You’ll love it!”

“I have a feeling there’s a lot more to it than making sure she doesn’t hurt herself.”

Kenzie waves away my objection. “Trust me. I know what I’m talking about.” She grabs her phone and focuses on the screen for several seconds while I try to process if this is something I might be interested in. And why she’s had the sudden change of heart.

“They’ll need you a few nights a week and some weekends. It will be super easy. It’s just one kid.”

“So you know the family? Have you babysat her before?”

“Yeah, a few times. Don’t worry, she’s chill.”

Chill? Is there such a thing as a chill kid? “How old is she?”

“Like ten.”

“Where do they live?”

“Not far. I’m sure you could walk it.”

“I’m sure I could walk to Seattle if I had to—it doesn’t mean I’d want to.”

Kenzie’s chin drops to her chest as she lowers her phone. “There’s probably a bus that goes close to their house. Don’t you still have your bus pass?”

“Yes …”

“Great. Problem solved.”

“Kenzie, I never agreed to this. I want to meet them first. What if the kid doesn’t like me? What if I don’t get along with her parents? What if I can’t commit to how many hours they need me?”

“The job pays twenty bucks an hour.” Her words match the bored expression on her face.

“Twenty dollars? An hour? Who pays twenty dollars for a babysitter?”

“I’m done playing twenty questions with you. Do you want the job or not?”