Page 23

The street is nice, filled with homes owned by sweet families far out of my price range and a connected set of brick buildings with identical layouts—pretty brownstones that resemble a small Beacon Hill more than a strip of neighborhood closer to downtown Waterfell.

Something I could not afford in my wildest dreams.

“Yeah! If I was about fifteen tax brackets higher.”

“I don’t even think they have that many—”

“Alessia,” I beg. “Be so serious right now.”

“I am. Trust me. I talked to the girl renting it and she’s a doll. Just stop being so stubborn and fighting me at every corner. Go check it out and call me back after. Okay? Okay! Love you!” She sputters out the last of her words and quickly hangs up before I can argue further.

I slam a hand on the steering wheel in frustration, immediately preparing to throw the car in reverse and hightail it out of there. I can apologize to Alessia tomorrow and sleep in my car tonight.

Before I can back out someone calls for me to, “Wait!”

Out of the least decorated of the townhomes comes a girl in tall black boots, nylons, and a skirt, with a thick gray coat and scarf bundling her up nearly to her eyes. Her auburn hair is almost in a clip, but it’s lopsided, half fallen.

I recognize her immediately as the girl I ran into in the advisor building.

“Are you Paloma?” she asks, tripping over the end of the sidewalk and grabbing my rolled-down window with her gloved fingers. Blue eyes bright, she smiles and shoves her scarf down out of her mouth with her chin.

“I am—” I begin, but she cuts me off quickly.

“I’ve been waiting for you to show up all morning. Do you want to come inside? I can help you carry something?”

She looks like she’s pushing five feet, barely able to reach up to the window of my old SUV. I think anything heavier than fifty pounds might knock her over.

“I’m good. This is—” I shake my head as I look around again. “I don’t think I can live here.”

My tone is more defensive than I mean it, but I try to soften it.

“Oh.” She huffs a breath, biting on her lip and looking anywhere but my eyes. “But you haven’t even seen it.”

“It’s—”

“Just . . . I really need a roommate. Can you come in and see? It’s really nice, I promise.”

That’s the problem.

Something about her makes me pause. I want to leave. There’s a shameful element to this for me. But instead, I nod and direct her away from the window so I can park against the curb. I tuck my sock-clad feet back into my clogs and hop down, not bothering to roll up the too-long legs of my jeans even as they graze the bits of clinging snow dusting the pavement.

“It’s freezing.” I say the words offhand, but she doesn’t reply, only watches me over her shoulder as she leads us up the front entryway stairs. The door is cracked open.

I follow her in, nearly slamming into her as she stalls in the barren entryway. I wait for her to continue, to direct me through the house on a tour, but her big blue eyes are staring at me now in curious wonder.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

Her mouth sinks into a frown. “I forgot to say that. It’s Lily.” She chews on her lip for a moment. She gestures vaguely behind her and says, “The kitchen and living room are down here. And the office—but don’t go in there. It’s . . . messy.” It doesn’t seem to be the word she was looking for, but she nods almost to herself and then looks back at me apprehensively.

I nod, mouth stuck because I can’t think of what to say to the weird girl scuffling her feet in the entryway as if she’s the guest.

“So—can I see the bedroom?”

“Oh, right. Yes.” She cuts up the stairs, only stopping at the top to wait for me to follow.

I climb up behind her, noting the elegant ornate fixtures and knowing this entire place is far above my price range, but humoring her nonetheless. Though I continue cursing Alessia in my head.

As we pass by the first bedroom, I peek through the open doorway, quickly scanning over the half-unpacked room with things scattered all around, the walls covered in posters of famous paintings I’m sure I’ve seen before.