Chapter Three
I awake to the sound of scratching, something I’m not used to. Sun shining way too brightly in my face—I really need to get some room darkening blinds for in here—I roll onto my side, groggily trying to assess the source of the sound. Henry, lying beside me with his head on one of my pillows, doesn’t even blink, snoring right through the noise.
Some guard dog.
It takes me a moment to orient myself, the bright purple walls foreign compared to the pale green walls in my bedroom at home.
Correction. This is now home. Bright purple it is.
I sit up, rubbing sleep out of my eyes while probably smearing mascara. I shake out my hair, stretch, and decide to get some coffee.
The scratching continues. Apparently Sebastian wants to be friends with Henry. Or get him evicted.
I prepare to saunter into the kitchen, but reassess my idea. Looking down, I realize I’m braless and wearing my worn-out sweatpants from college—the ones with a hole in the thigh and are almost threadbare. This whole roommate thing is out of my league. Do I need to get dressed first? Do my hair? Brush my teeth? The thought of walking out there in front of anyone, let alone a near stranger, seems inappropriate. The thought of putting real pants on at this hour, though, seems out of the question.
Figuring I might as well take Jodie’s advice and make myself at home, I opt for a thin sweatshirt to throw over my faded T-shirt before slinking out to find coffee.
Which reminds me—I don’t have any coffee. I really need to get to the store. This whole “go with the flow” lifestyle isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, I suppose.
I chastise myself for being so negative, for resorting to the old Avery ways of being the rational planner. I can make this work. I need to give it a go.
I open the door, and Sebastian dashes into my room, no doubt to stir Henry. I decide to trust Jodie. I worry too much. They’ll work it out.
I head out to the island in the kitchen.
“Hey, roomie. How’d you sleep? Sorry, I really like the word ‘roommate’. I’m actually writing a story right now about roommates, so I guess that’s why I’m using it too much.”
I manage a grin, although I’m barely following Jodie’s mile-a-minute speech. She’s on the sofa, typing away on her laptop while she turns to talk at me. She’s chipper, completely awake. It looks like she’s been up for hours.
Pretty sure I don’t look like I’m even conscious right now.
I do feel better that she’s at least in yoga pants and a T-shirt. My attire is apparently okay.
“I slept fine,” I say.
“You don’t look like it,” she says, then flashes me a huge smile. I’m already learning Jodie is one of those people who are just so darn likable, they can say anything. She can basically tell me I look like shit and then smile, and it somehow doesn’t seem offensive.
I like that, though.
“Okay, truth. It’s just not quite feeling like home yet.”
“Well, that’s because we need to add your flavor to the place, make it you. Especially in your room. Maybe after work today, we can swing by the home décor shop, pick up some things.” She puts her laptop on the coffee table, and heads to the kitchen. “Coffee, yes? It’s in the top cupboard over there. Hope you like bold roast.”
“I like any roast right now. I’ll restock your supplies later. I need to go to the store.”
Jodie waves a hand. “It’s fine. Please. It’s a cup of coffee, Avery, not a car. Give yourself some time to get settled.”
Before I can even get to the cupboard, she skips over to the coffee maker, popping a pod in the Keurig and sticking a mug that says Believe underneath it. Even her mugs scream chipper.
“So did I hear you right?” I ask as I plop myself onto one of the wooden stools by the island. “Did you say work?”
“Yeah, you did say you needed a job, right? I called Lysander yesterday. He said you’ve got the job.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Who’s Lysander? And what job?”
She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I tend to get ahead of myself. Lysander owns Midsummer Nights. I know, crazy original, right?”
I just stare, not quite getting the reference.
Jodie smiles. “Not a Shakespeare fan?”
“No, not particularly. Math was my thing.”
“Oh, right, the whole accountant thing. Well, Lysander’s mom was an English teacher and she was a Shakespeare fan, hence Lysander’s name. She owned the restaurant up until she died a few years ago. She named the restaurant Midsummer Nights because, well, it was her favorite play. The customers don’t even believe us when we tell them the owner’s name is actually Lysander.”
I just nod.
“You still don’t get it, huh? Well, one of these days, you’ll have to read it. Anyway, there I go, getting ahead of myself,” she says, shaking her head before grabbing my coffee for me. “Cream?”
“No, black coffee is fine.”
Jodie gasps. I turn to see what’s wrong. Seeing nothing, I turn back to her. This girl’s giving me whiplash.
“What is it?” I finally ask, still confused about Shakespeare and jobs and now her fear.
“Nothing, it’s just I read this study the other day how people who drink black coffee are more likely to be serial killers. And, well, this is sort of embarrassing, but when I told my mom about finding you online, she was terrified you were a serial killer.”
I stare for a moment in silence, taking in everything. Then, I burst out laughing.
“My mom thought the same thing.”
Jodie grins. “It’s sort of like fate, huh?”
“I suppose.”
“Anyway,” she says, now sitting at a stool herself as I warm my hands on the cup of coffee. “I waitress at Midsummer several days a week to help supplement my income. I talked to Lysander about you, and he actually could use another waitress. I mean, the money’s not great, but the tips on weekends are killer. Midsummer’s actually a pretty popular spot. And it would at least be a start, you know, until you figure out what you want to do.”
A waitress. Not exactly what I had in mind, especially considering I’ve got a four-year degree plus a CPA certification. Still, it’s a start. A fresh start. A chance to give up some of the restrictions of the business world, take some time to figure out what I want to be.
“Waitressing sounds great. But don’t I need an interview or something?”
Jodie waves her hand. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Lysander trusts me. We know each other well.”
“But you barely know me,” I offer.
“True. But I’m a good judge of character. The first moment I saw you standing at my door, I knew you were okay, Avery. You’ve got an aura of kindness.”
“An aura of kindness?” I raise an eyebrow, skeptical yet also flattered.
“I don’t know how else to explain it. Anyway, drink your coffee, get yourself awake, and then we’ll get going later this afternoon. We need to get there early so I can show you around. Midsummer has its quirks. I want to make sure you get off on the right foot.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“Remember what I said about not saying thanks?”
“I know. But I appreciate it.”
“I know you do. Now listen, I’m going to go write for a little while. Take your time, explore the neighborhood, and then we’ll head into work this afternoon.”
“Okay. Sounds good. I’m just going to take Henry out to pee.”
“I should probably feed Sebastian. Have you seen him?”
I realize I haven’t seen him since he wandered into my room, and I haven’t heard from Henry.
I scamper to my feet, tiptoeing to my room to peek in. Henry still sleeps on my bed, his kicking feet telling me he’s in the middle of an intense dream.
There’s an addition, though. Curled up right next to him is Sebastian. It sounds like he might be snoring a little, too.
I motion for Jodie, and she tiptoes over to my door. I point, and she smiles. “See, told you that you worry too much. Fast friends.”
“Fast friends,” I say, exhaling a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.