Peter was right on time. I found it reassuring that he was punctual, like in all things―he means what he says. The sound of the doorbell sent a thrill through me, and when I opened the door, my smile became a grin.

He looked like summer, warm and amazing. He wore shorts that, from their cut and design, I could tell were expensive. His polo shirt clung to him in all the right places, his sunglasses perched on top of his head, and his whole face smiled when he saw me.

He held a potted orchid out to me. “A housewarming gift.”

“Oh, wow! Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” I took the plant. The purple flowers reminded me of the silk gown I now owned, and I was thankful I didn’t blush. I leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Please, come in.”

I showed him the living room and kitchen. Skylar and George were there, so I introduced them. I was pretty sure they were shocked that Peter was older, and before it could get awkward, I looked at Peter and said, “Come upstairs. I’ll put this in my room, then we can go.”

Peter followed me wordlessly up the stairs and I opened the door to my room. “This is me.”

He stepped inside and looked around. “Nice. Reminds me of my college days. You’ll have a lot of fun here.”

“I hope so.” I put the plant on the dresser. “I like it.”

“Did you sleep okay on your first night?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I guess.” The truth was, it was a long night. I listened to the sounds of the house, the creaks and the sounds the wind and traffic made outside, familiarizing myself. But it was peaceful enough and I eventually fell asleep sometime after two. I also left out the part where I hid my backpack in my bed and slept with the light on. There were some things he didn’t need to know.

I took a deep breath. “Do you like it?”

Peter nodded slowly. “I do.”

I exhaled finally. “I’m glad. I wanted you to like it. I don’t know why.”

Peter slid his hand into mine. “You’re gonna do great here. I’m proud of you for doing this. I know you were unsure after last week.”

“I was. But I feel good about it.”

His smile was pure joy. “Let me buy us an early lunch to celebrate.”

I squeezed his hand, not ready to let it go, but knowing I had to. “Okay.”

We went back downstairs and I stuck my head into the kitchen. “I’m heading out for a few hours. Anyone need anything?”

No one did, so I walked Peter to the door, then out into the beautiful LA morning. “You look really good today,” I said as we got to the sidewalk. “Very summery.”

“Thanks. You do too.” He did this weird cringey kind of smile. “Sorry. I’m trying not to compliment you because I know you don’t like it. It’s just hard when you look the way you do.”

“What do you mean ‘look the way I do’?”

“Well, I could say gorgeous or stunning, but today I’m going to go with happy.”

I shook my head and let out a disbelieving laugh. “I will accept the happy because today it’s true.”

We got to the corner, and instead of waiting for the lights to change, I grabbed Peter’s hand and together we ran across the street. One car had to slow down, so Peter gave them a wave, and I laughed as we got to the sidewalk. “Are you trying to get us killed?” He might have sounded mad if he wasn’t smiling.

“That was my cardio session for the day.” Letting go of his hand, I linked my arm with his. I liked walking with him like this and was pretty sure Peter didn’t mind either. We found a 1950s retro diner, which looked like fun. We sat in a booth facing each other across the table, and when Peter’s foot bumped mine, he didn’t move it. It made my heart bloom with warmth, or maybe it was Peter’s smile. We ordered burgers and milkshakes while Chuck Berry played on a neon lit jukebox.

Peter joked about how much cardio he’d be doing this week at the gym to work off the burger and milkshake, I thanked him again for the housewarming orchid he gave me, and we talked about my new roommates and about school starting tomorrow. He had a busy week at work ahead, something to do with quarterly analytics, which I didn’t exactly understand, but it was pretty clear to see he loved his job.

In all the weeks we’d been having these non-dates, our conversations tended to center on me. So today I wanted to make it about him. I asked him to explain quarterly analytics to me, and I asked him about his colleagues, the company he worked for, and about his friends.

After the waitress had offered us another refill on coffee, we figured it was our cue to leave. Half a block up, I found a thrift store, and taking Peter’s hand, I dragged him inside. It was very obviously not his kind of shop, but it was very much mine. Well, my kind of budget anyway. He could’ve looked down at me or turned his nose up in disgust, but he didn’t. He laughed when I slouched a beret on my head and butchered the French language and again when I wore the bright orange fake fur coat and did a Muppet impersonation.

He shook his head when I’d paired up a maroon scarf with a brown tweed jacket, complete with elbow patches, but did a double take when I tried it on for him. “That actually looks really good.”

“Um, thanks?”

He laughed. “I’ve never thought of tweed as fashionable, but clearly you can pull it off.”

“I can pull anything off.” Then I realized how that sounded. “I mean, I can wear anything. I didn’t mean pulling off. Oh God.” I buried my face in my hands and only looked up when I felt a hat being put on my head.

Peter was right in front of me, smiling. “I knew what you meant. Though I won’t lie, I do like where your mind went.” I felt my face flame twenty different degrees of red, the heat curled right down to my belly. He looked at me with a spark of something I couldn’t quite identify, then changing topics, he looked at the top of my head. “I like that hat on you.”

Needing to clear my mind, I turned to face the mirror to find he’d chosen a Fedora. It didn’t sit very well with my curly hair, so I took it off and put it on Peter’s head instead. “Suits you more.”

He took the hat off and threw it back onto the pile. “No, I look like a try hard mafia boss.” Then he came up with a maroon beanie. “Here, what about this one?” He put it on my head and fixed it until it was just so. “Perfect.”

I looked in the mirror and had to admit, it suited me. I turned, checking out the ensemble from all angles. “It’s a shame I have to wait until winter to wear it.”

“Then let’s look for some summer clothes,” Peter suggested.

I found some jeans I could cut off for shorts and two cute button-down short-sleeve shirts. I’m sure they were someone’s grandfather’s at some point. One was faded lime green with pinstripes, and the other was a light blue with little dark blue palm trees on it. Peter thought they were hideous on the hanger, but when I tried them on for him, he loved them.

Happy with my find, and even happier that all of it came to a grand total of twenty-two dollars, we went to the counter. Before I could pull out the cash, Peter stopped me. “Please let me buy these for you.”

“I have the money.”

“I know you do. But you’re starting classes tomorrow, and you might need it. And this is my way of helping out.”

The little old lady behind the counter took Peter’s card. She wore really thick glasses and spoke loudly. “Listen to your daddy, son. You youngins need all the help you can get these days, with them student debts and all.”

Oh my God. She thought he was my daddy.

Peter stared, then blinked slowly, and his cheeks turned pink. Peter took back his card and I took the bag of clothes, holding in my laughter until we made it outside. “That was so funny!”

He groaned. “That’s the second time that’s happened.”

“We must give off the daddy/son vibe.” I grinned right at him and bit my bottom lip. “Thank you for the clothes, Daddy.”

His nostrils flared and his eyes focused on my mouth before meeting my eyes again. It was a look that sent a shiver down my spine. Maybe it was wrong to tease him.

Maybe I wasn’t teasing.

My phone rang in my pocket, breaking the spell between us. I fished it out, but the number was unknown. My happy, playful mood was gone. Cold dread was in its place. “I don’t know who that is,” I whispered. “What if it’s… what if he somehow got my number?”

Peter took my phone and answered the call. His voice was strong and direct. “Hello… No, this is Peter.” Whoever had called spoke for a second. Then Peter said, “May I ask who’s calling?” Another brief pause, then Peter smiled and said, “One moment, please.” He handed the phone to me. “It’s one of the coffeehouses you put your name down at. They’re calling about a job.”

Relief detonated through me. I let out my breath and took the phone. “Hello, this is Yanni.”

As it turned out, it was a coffeehouse two blocks from home, and the owner, a lady by the name of Vonna, wanted to know if I could drop by to meet her. “I can be there in ten minutes,” I said.

Her response was short and sweet. “Perfect. See you soon.”

Peter was already smiling when I ended the call. “She wants to see you now?”

I nodded. “Yes. No time to get nervous, I suppose. And thank you for answering my phone. I guess I forgot when I applied for jobs that I’d be getting calls from unknown numbers.”

“Anytime.” He looked up and down the street. “Which way are we going?”

I pointed to the block across. “That way.”

I wasn’t wrong about not having time to get nervous. Peter talked about buying the Charlie Chaplin box set of DVDs nonstop for the entire ten minutes it took to walk there. When he stopped me just outside the café, I realized it was his attempt at distracting me and not letting me overthink anything. He took my bag of clothes. “I’ll wait out here.”

“Okay. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“It’s fine.” I looked at the café door and let out a slow, nervous breath.

“Yanni?”

I turned to Peter to find courage and conviction in his eyes. He smiled so easily. “Just be yourself.”

Bolstered by his confidence, I went inside. The coffeehouse itself looked recently renovated, with dark timber paneling and highlighted color around the space in warm grays and blues. A quick glance at the menu board told me it specialized in Italian coffees, and the front cabinet was full of Italian cakes and pastries. The staff behind the counter all wore a uniform of black pants, long-sleeved white shirt, a black vest, and tie, with a short black waist apron. They looked impeccable and busy, but most importantly, they looked happy to work there.

A lady at the till smiled at me. She was in her thirties, maybe, and her name tag declared her to be Charise. “Can I help you?”

Swallowing my nerves, I tried to appear calm. “My name is Yanni. Vonna called me for an interview.”

“I’ll just get her for you.” She smiled and disappeared through a staff-only door, and from the corner of my eye, I noticed a few of the other staff look in my direction.

Vonna was a short, thin, middle-aged woman with black hair in a bob style and a round, kind face. She came in through the door, looked up at me, and smiled. “Come this way,” she said, waving me around the counter.

I followed her past a cold storeroom, a dry storeroom, to a door with an Office plaque. The room was small, barely big enough to fit a desk, two chairs, filing cabinets, and not much else. The state of her desk told me she tried to be organized but was too busy to make it happen. “Take a seat,” she said, edging her way around to her side of the desk. I was grateful she was tiny because anyone bigger would have struggled. “You dropped your details off at the right time. One of the boys finished school and moved on.” She had my résumé in front of her. “You have experience, yes? I called your last place of employment. He said you were very good, but you left with no notice.”

Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Take a breath and explain.

“My circumstances changed. I was going to school and working part-time. But I had to leave… an abusive relationship.” The words felt surreal to say out loud, but I couldn’t very well lie to her. Not if she was to hire me.

She put her hand to her heart. “Oh my.”

I gave her the best smile I could manage. “I’m on my feet again now. New place, new school, and now I just need the work.”

She paused a moment, like she forgot her train of thought, then asked me a few questions about which point of sale systems I’d used, what hours my schooling would be, when I was available to work. “And you live ten minutes away?”

“Yes, two blocks.”

She seemed happy with that. “Can you make me a coffee?”

“Right now?”

Vonna nodded. “Yes, now. Come with me.” She got up and edged her way back around the desk, dodging my long legs and making it out the door. I followed her into the dry storage room, where she pulled a black waist apron off a hook and handed it to me. And for the next ten minutes, I got to play barista.

“I’ll have a ristretto,” Vonna said.

Thankfully, the coffee machine wasn’t too different from the one I was used to. This was bigger and looked ten times more expensive but still functioned the same. So I made Vonna her coffee, then someone ordered a cappuccino, so I made that. Then a double vanilla latte, a soy long macchiato, and a decaf cappuccino, so I made those too.

Charise stood at the machine with me making her order, and she gave me a smile. “Doing good,” she whispered, and I was certain I saw her give Vonna a nod. When my time was up, Vonna waved me over toward the end of the counter. I took my apron off, folded it neatly, and placed it on the counter. She smiled and had to crane her neck to look up at me. “Can you start this week?”

And just like that, another part of my life was back on track.

We sorted out some details, she gave me some forms to take home and fill out, and I walked out into the sunshine to find Peter leaning against a street pole holding my bag of new clothes across his thighs. He must have known from my smile. “Yes?”

“I start Tuesday.”

Peter’s grin was instantaneous; excitement and happiness for me just beamed right out of him. “That’s excellent!” He gave me a hug and his warmth enveloped me and pulled me in in more than just a physical way. Something in my blood, in my bones, in my soul was drawn in, like the light in him not only kept me safe but also healed me.

I couldn’t really explain it. I couldn’t find the words, and I also couldn’t find it in me to let go of him. “You okay?” he asked. I felt his voice through his chest more than I heard it.

“Yeah.” I pulled back reluctantly. “Thank you, for before. On the way here, you kept me distracted so I didn’t overthink everything and bail out before I got here.”

He laughed, not even trying to hide the fact he’d done it. “Anytime.” He looked down the street toward my house. “Well, I should get going. Or move my car, at least, before they tow it.”

“Oh, shoot!” I’d forgotten about his car. But that also meant our time together was almost over.

He seemed unsure for a moment. Like he didn’t want our time to be over either but not sure how to prolong it. “We could take a drive to the beach if you want?”

I slid my arm through his and sidled up close as we started the walk home. “Sounds perfect.”

* * *

By the time he dropped me home, I was warmed through from the sun and had a belly full of food and gelato. It had been such an amazing day. I felt like I was buzzing.

Everyone was in the living room. Skylar and George were watching a cooking show, and Jordan had her legs curled up under her with her nose in a book. “Look at you!” Skylar said. “All glowing and shit.”

George raised the one eyebrow that wasn’t hidden by a curtain of black hair. “Dude, you look far too happy. Cut it out.”

I laughed and plonked myself onto the end of the sofa Jordan was sitting on. I was still holding my bag from the thrift store, so I kind of held it up awkwardly. “Shopping at the second-hand store. Scored six things for twenty bucks. Ate far too much, twice, but the gelato was too good to say no to. Oh, and I got a job!”

“Awesome!” Skylar said.

George nodded slowly. “Cool.”

Jordan closed her book and gave me a timid smile. “That’s really great.”

“Thanks. It’s a coffee shop, probably four shifts a week, which is all I need right now.”

We sat in silence for a beat. George played with the silver ring in his lip. “So, that Peter guy… is he your dad or something?”

I snorted, ignoring the burn I could feel across my cheeks. “Uh, no. He’s not my dad. Just a friend.” I was about to explain that neither of us was ready for anything more than friendship just yet but figured these new friends might not need all the details, and so an awkward pause filled the room instead.

“Show us what clothes you got,” Skylar said, saving us all from dying of awkwardness.

So I did that, showing each piece and telling how much each one cost. Not that they were probably too interested…

“Is that the thrift shop on San Pedro?” George asked. “They have some pretty cool stuff.”

“Yeah, I got my purple cardigan there,” Skylar added.

Jordan held her arm out and pointed to the long sleeve of her floral shirt. “I got this from there. Two bucks.”

We fell into an easy conversation about bargain shopping until Skylar declared she was going to make her dinner. George soon followed, but Jordan and I stayed on the sofa.

She spoke quietly, timidly, and I would always remember how Mrs Landon hugged her the longest. Whatever she’d been through was rough, and I didn’t know why, but it was important to me that Jordan knew I was on her side.

I sank back into the sofa and gave her a smile. “What’s the book?”

“Economies of the Waking World,” she replied. “It’s about financial ramifications of globalization in the twenty-first century.”

“So,” I deadpanned, “just a bit of light reading.”

She smiled. “Yeah. It’s not bad.”

“What are you studying? I mean, is it for class?”

“No, I’m just reading it. I’m studying psychology.”

“Oh.” God, I couldn’t even imagine… “That’s a tough one. I have enough trouble dealing with my own messed-up head. Not sure I could cope with studying anyone else’s as well.”

I wondered briefly if that was the wrong thing to say, but she smiled. “I’m opposite. I want to study why people do messed-up things to other people. Why the people who treat others terribly do what they do.”

I ran my hand over my face, trying to process that. Did I ever want to know why someone assaulted another person? Did I want to humanize them, empathize with them, sympathize with them? No, no I didn’t. “Well, you’re stronger than me. I don’t think I could do that.”

Her smile had an edge of sadness now. “I’m sure I’m not. We just deal differently. That’s all.”

And I could see it in her eyes then. A familiarity, a survivor’s tell. I’ve been through it. I’ve been where you are.

I swallowed hard. “What year are you in? With your classes?”

“This is my third year.”

“Me too. Well, I’m starting my third year. I’ve been to two different schools before now. But I start my third year tomorrow.”

“Are you excited?”

I nodded. “New school, new job, new house. New me.”

Jordan smiled and nodded in that familiar “I’ve been where you are” kind of way. “Sorry I missed meeting your friend earlier.” She shrugged, going for nonchalance, but the death grip on her book told me otherwise. “I don’t do well meeting strangers. I hope you understand.”

“It’s fine, really it is.” I waited for her eyes to meet mine. “I do understand. I don’t do well meeting new people. It’s damn hard, and some people don’t get that, but I do. So don’t apologize. It’s all cool.”

“I don’t do well in crowds or with loud noises.”

Yep. She understood. She’d definitely been where I’ve been. I frowned. “Me either.”

She grimaced. “You went out today though.”

“Because I was with Peter. I trust him. I had a freak-out in a café last week. Some drugged-out guy came in and started yelling and throwing furniture and stuff, and I had like an anxiety attack. It wasn’t pretty, but Peter was there. He talked me through it.”

Jordan looked horrified. She clutched her book with both hands to her chest. “I would have died.”

“If Peter wasn’t there, it would’ve been a whole lot worse. I can do controlled environments,” I explained. “Like classes or go to the movies because I know what to expect. I find headphones are a good way to drown out the loud noises, and it usually stops people from trying to talk to you.”

Jordan nodded and gave me a weak smile. “Yeah, I can do controlled environments. And headphones do deter some people, but not always.”

“If you ever need me to come to the store with you, please just ask. Safety in numbers kind of thing.”

She gave me a relieved huff followed by a brief smile. “Thanks.” Then she said, “I’m getting better. And I don’t mean to dump all this on you on day one, but it’s probably best if you know from the beginning.”

“I’m glad you told me.” I felt a bit more relaxed with her now. “Have you got a cell? I can give you my number and you can text me if you need. But only if you want to, that is. If you want someone to walk home with you or to school or the store.” I shrugged again, feeling a little foolish for suggesting it.

Jordan looked unsure, but in the end she nodded. “Ah, yeah, sure. That’d be great.”

I gave her my number, and after she had put her phone away, an easy silence fell between us. “So,” I started, “what’s a normal Sunday night here?”

“Depends. Sometimes a movie, sometimes study. Sometimes we all hang out here, sometimes we’re all in our own rooms.”

On this particular Sunday night, the four of us sat in the living room watching 101 Dalmatians on TV. It was relaxed, and all in all a nice way to spend the night.

When the movie was done, knowing I had my first day of school in the morning, I said goodnight and went upstairs. I called Mr and Mrs Landon quickly, to let them know I’d gotten a job.

“Oh, Yanni, that’s such good news!” Mrs Landon said. “When do you start?”

“Tuesday, after class.” I lay back on my bed and smiled at the ceiling. “I told them Wednesday afternoons are out. I have my appointment with Patrice, and I was hoping we were still doing Wednesday night dinners.”

“Oh yes, of course! That’s a wonderful idea!” She sounded about ready to burst. “Takeout or home-cooked?”

“I don’t mind.” I didn’t want to be an inconvenience, but I had loved the times we had spent in the kitchen together. And given that my appointments with my therapist usually left me feeling a little vulnerable, I suggested one thing that had been such a comfort to me. “Actually, maybe the three of us can prepare and cook dinner like we used to.”

She was quiet for a moment before she sniffled into the phone. “Perfect! That’s so perfect!”

“Tell Mr Landon I’ll see him at school in the morning.”

“I will. Thank you for calling.”

“Anytime.”

I disconnected the call and went through all the school things that Mr Landon had given me. I sorted out books and pens and put together what I hoped I’d need for my first day and put them in my backpack.

I sorted out what clothes I wanted to wear, jotted down some notes in my diary for class, and marked on my daily calendar things like work, Patrice, dinner at the Landons’ on Wednesdays, and school hours. I marked what day I would have free to do laundry and chores, and I wrote Peter’s name with a question mark on Saturday and Sunday afternoon.

It was such a simple thing to do, really. Like filling in a weekly to-do list. But for me, it was about taking back control and having direction and purpose. It truly felt like I was getting my life back.

I felt positive, excited at the possibilities, and I finally, finally, felt hope for my future.

When I was ready for bed, I gave Peter’s orchid a drink of water, then I made sure the window and door were both locked, and I climbed into bed. I shoved my backpack, with my few schoolbooks in it, under the blankets beside me, and settled in for the night.

As my thoughts wandered back over the day, I inevitably thought of Peter. I reached over for my phone and quickly thumbed out a message.

Thank you for a wonderful day.

His reply came straight back. I could say the same to you. I enjoyed every minute.

I smiled at my phone. Looking at my schedule, I think I only have Saturday and Sunday afternoons free this week. Is that okay?

Are you offering me both?

I laughed. If you want…

I want.

I finish work at two on Saturday.

I’ll pick you up. We can do something fun.

Like what?

I’ll think of something.

Sounds good.

First day of class tomorrow. Are you nervous?

A little. Mostly excited. I’m in bed, trying to sleep, but I’m all keyed up.

That was probably a little too much information—that I was in bed and excited—but I was sure Peter wouldn’t take it like that. Until I watched the dots in the bubble on screen appear, disappear, appear again, then disappear again. He was either writing me a novel, or he kept starting then deleting what he was trying to say. In the end I thought I should put him out of his misery, and I hit Call.

His deep, soothing voice crooned in my ear. “Hello.”

“Hi. You seemed a little stuck for words.”

Peter laughed. “I was trying to reply without a double meaning or an innuendo.”

“I didn’t realize how it sounded until after I’d hit Send. Sorry about that.”

He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound. It resonated in my chest, pooled a warmth around my heart that felt… a lot like something I longed for but wasn’t ready for yet. I didn’t want to get ahead of myself, but I also didn’t want to let it go. I wanted to grab it with both hands and hold onto it forever.

No matter how much it terrified me. Thrilled me.

“Can I call you tomorrow night? To ask about your first day at class?”

That warm feeling got a little warmer. “Of course you can. I’d really like that.”

“I won’t get home till a little later this week.”

“Oh, your quarterly analytics.”

“You remembered?”

“Yeah, of course.” A rush of pride ran through me. “And you can tell me all about your day too. Reports and analytics, all that data stuff, office gossip, that kind of thing.”

Peter made a happy sound. “I will.”

I yawned. “Sorry. I’m more tired than I thought.”

“I didn’t mean to bore you,” he replied, a smile in his voice.

“Hardly. More like you put me at ease.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment?”

I snorted a laugh. “You should. I meant it as one.”

“Sweet dreams, Yanni.”

“You too.”