Lily's POV
This one says 'cozy studio'—which means a closet with a hotplate. Jazz scrolls through rental listings on her laptop. Oh, here's a good one. Two thousand a month plus first, last, and deposit. Only needs six thousand dollars upfront.
I laugh bitterly from my nest of blankets on her couch. I have eight hundred dollars to my name.
Then we keep looking.
It's been a week. Seven days of sending out resumes that disappear into the void. Seven days of watching my bank account shrink. Seven days of sleeping on Jazz's couch while she pretends it's not a problem even though I know it is.
Her apartment is a studio. One room. I'm literally living in her bedroom.
Maybe I should just leave Seattle, I say quietly. Start over somewhere else.
With what money? And go where? Jazz doesn't look up from the screen. Your parents are struggling with the restaurant. Marcus is in San Francisco with his own life. You can't just run away.
Why not? Everyone thinks I'm a cheater anyway. Nathan's dad made sure I can't get a job here. What's the point of staying?
Jazz closes the laptop and looks at me. Really looks at me.
The point is you didn't do anything wrong. And if you run, Nathan wins. He gets to tell his story. Everyone believes his lies. And the next woman he destroys? She'll have no one to warn her.
The words hit hard.
I can't fight him, Jazz. I have nothing.
You have the truth.
The truth doesn't pay rent.
My phone buzzes. Another rejection email. This one doesn't even pretend to be polite—just a generic we've decided to pursue other candidates.
Fifteen applications. Fifteen rejections.
Richard Kim's blacklist is real and thorough.
Jazz opens her laptop again. Okay. New strategy. We're not looking at solo apartments. We're looking at roommate situations.
I can't afford those either
Some people just want help with rent. They don't need huge deposits. She's scrolling fast now. Look. This one's only asking for first month. No deposit.
I lean over to see the screen.
Room available, Capitol Hill, $800/month. Available immediately. Shared bathroom/kitchen. Quiet building. First month rent only, no deposit. Email C.Hayes for details.
Eight hundred dollars. Exactly what I have left.
It's probably a scam, I mutter.
Or it's a person who actually needs a roommate and isn't trying to squeeze every penny out of you. Jazz is already opening my email. What do you have to lose?
Everything. I've already lost everything.
But Jazz is typing before I can stop her.
Hi, I'm interested in the room. I can move in immediately and have first month's rent ready. Are you still looking for a roommate? Thanks, Lily Chen
She hits send.
Jazz
It's done. If it's a scam, we'll know fast. If it's real, you have somewhere to go that's not my couch.
I want to argue. Want to say this is stupid and desperate and probably dangerous.
But she's right. I can't stay here forever.
We stare at the screen, waiting.
Three minutes later, a response pops up.
Still available. Can you come look at it today? 6pm. Address below. -C.Hayes
An address in Capitol Hill. A real address.
See? Jazz grins. Not a scam. Real person. Real room.
This feels too easy.
Girl, nothing about your life right now is easy. Maybe you're due for some luck.
I don't believe in luck anymore. But I don't have options either.
At 5:30 PM, I'm packing my two suitcases.
Everything I own fits in two bags. That's what my life has become.
Jazz watches from her tiny kitchen. You sure you don't want me to come with you? Check the place out first?
You have that work deadline. I'll be fine.
Text me the second you see it. If anything feels weird, you leave immediately.
I will.
She hugs me tight. You're going to be okay. I know it doesn't feel like it now, but you will.
I want to believe her.
The Uber drops me off at 5:58 PM. The building is older but well-maintained. Nice neighborhood. Trees lining the street.
Not a murder house. That's something.
I drag my suitcases up the stairs—no elevator—to the third floor. Apartment 3B.
My heart pounds as I knock.
Maybe this person will be nice. Normal. Someone who just needs help with rent and won't ask too many questions about why I'm basically homeless.
Footsteps approach the door.
Please be normal. Please be safe. Please be
The door opens.
My heart stops.
Connor Hayes stands there, six feet of solid muscle, dark hair messy like he's been running his hands through it, gray eyes widening in shock.
Nathan's best friend. The man who spent two years barely speaking to me. The man who looked through me like I was invisible at every dinner, every party, every moment I tried to be part of Nathan's world.
No, we say at exactly the same time.
You're the roommate? My voice comes out strangled.
You're responding to my ad? Connor looks equally horrified.
We stare at each other. Him in the doorway. Me with my pathetic suitcases.
The universe must be laughing.
I can't live with you, I say. You're Nathan's
Was Nathan's friend. Past tense. His voice is cold. Distant. The same tone he always used with me. Door's open, Chen. You taking the room or not?
I should leave. Should find literally anywhere else.
But my bank account has $847. Jazz's couch is too small. Every job application gets rejected.
And this room is $800 a month with no deposit.
Fine. The word tastes bitter. But we're not friends.
Wasn't planning on it.
Connor steps aside.
I grab my suitcases and walk into the apartment.
The space is small, maybe 900 square feet. Living room with a couch and TV. Tiny kitchen. One bathroom.
And two bedrooms.
Connor shows me to the second room without a word. Bare mattress. Empty closet. Single window overlooking the street.
Rent's due first of the month. Eight hundred dollars. Clean up after yourself. Stay out of my space. His voice is ice. Professional. Like I'm a stranger he's interviewing.
Which I guess I am. I was never anything to him.
Why did you cut off Nathan? The question bursts out before I can stop it.
Connor's jaw clenches. Because I finally saw who he really is. Took me long enough.
What does that mean?
It means your ex-fiancé is a lying piece of shit who doesn't deserve the air he breathes. Connor's gray eyes flash with something dark. Angry. And I'm done pretending otherwise just because we were friends in college.
The words shock me. Connor barely spoke to me for two years. Now he's defending me?
You knew, I whisper. You knew he was
I didn't know about Madison. If I'd known, I would've told you. His expression shifts to something almost like pain. But I knew he was a shit boyfriend. I saw how he treated you. And I— He cuts himself off. It doesn't matter now.
It matters to me.
Connor looks at me then. Really looks at me. And for just a second, I see something in his gray eyes I don't understand.
Then it's gone.
First month's rent. Cash or Venmo. Then we stay out of each other's way.
He walks out, leaving me alone in the empty room.
I sink onto the bare mattress, staring at my two suitcases.
This is my life now. Living with Nathan's ex-best friend. The man who never wanted anything to do with me.
My phone buzzes.
Jazz: How is it??? Safe???
I type back: It's fine. Moving in now.
I don't tell her who my new roommate is. Don't tell her that the universe just put me in an apartment with the one person who made me feel invisible for two years.
My phone buzzes again.
Different number. Unknown.
Against every instinct, I open it.
Nathan: Heard you moved in with Connor. Cute. Real cute, Lily. You two planning this all along? Guess everyone was right about you being a cheating whore. Enjoy your little revenge fantasy. It won't last.
My hands shake.
Another text.
Nathan: Oh, and FYI, Connor never liked you. Ask him why he really stayed away from you for two years. Ask him what he told me about you at my bachelor party. You think he's your friend now? He's using you to get back at me. You're just convenient. Again.
That word. Convenient.
The same word Madison used when she destroyed my life.
I stare at the messages until they blur.
Through the thin wall, I hear Connor moving in his room. The man who just let me move into his apartment. The man who cut off his best friend because of what Nathan did to me.
But Nathan's words echo in my head.
Ask him what he said at the bachelor party.
He's using you.
You're convenient.
What did Connor say about me at that bachelor party?
Why did he really stay away for two years?
And why, out of everyone in Seattle, did he let me move into his home?