Thank you so much, Carly. You’re such a good friend.” I struggle to say the words out loud with the lump in my throat.

“Don’t worry about it, Piper. This is what friends are for, right?” Carly asks over the phone.

“But you moved out so you could be alone with George, and now I’m just going to be there, cramping your style.”

I know Carly has been looking forward to living with George. This is a big step in their relationship, and I can’t believe I’m going to ruin it for her.

Now they have no privacy. What’s the point of moving out on your own if your roommate is a useless parasite who needs you to survive and follows you wherever you go?

“It’s not like you want this, so stop feeling guilty, okay?” Carly says.

“Yeah, but George is allergic to cats, right? God, Carly, I’m going to be such an inconvenience. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. He’ll just take some pills. It’s only temporary, right? Stop worrying about us. You have so many more important things to worry about.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely going to move out once my students are back from summer break. I’ll get a room with some roommates, or rent another studio,” I say.

“See? You have so many things on your mind right now, so I don’t want you to waste any space in that brain worrying about us. We’re going to be fine. I’m just doing what you would do if our positions were reversed.”

She makes a good point. If Carly were one step away from ending up on the streets, and I could stop that from happening, I’d do it in a heartbeat. Except, in reality, I don’t know if I’ll ever get a chance to repay Carly for her generosity.

“Just finish packing up and we’ll pick you up tonight, okay?” Carly was already planning to come here to get the furniture, but now she has to pick me up, along with the stuff.

“Okay,” I say, dabbing the tears forming at the corners of my eyes. “Thanks again, Carly.”

“If you thank me one more time, or apologize one more time, I’ll put you on the streets myself.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll see you later, then.” I laugh. That’s the first thing to cheer me up since the phone call with Dad this morning.

As I hang up, I hear knocking on the door.

Weird. I’m not expecting any guests.

I get up from my bed and cross to the other side of the apartment in a few steps. I look through the peephole and my stomach drops. At the same time, my heartbeat picks up.

It’s Raphael. The landlord. The hot-as-hell landlord, standing just on the other side of this door.

What is he doing here? I have another day to move out, don’t I? This is only the second day since his first visit.

I look back over my shoulder to check where McClaw is. He has a habit of bolting out the door whenever he gets the chance, and I don’t have the energy to be running around after him, after everything I’ve been through today.

I scan the apartment with my eyes, and finally spot him sleeping soundly on a pile of clean clothes I’ve just washed, dried, and folded.

Nice. I’m going to end up with random orange cat hairs on everything. There are so many different spots where he could sleep in this apartment, but of course he has to pick that spot. Little asshole.

Okay. I need to know exactly what to say so I don’t get distracted by Raphael’s good looks and just stand there like an idiot.

I open the door. Without giving Raphael a chance to speak, I say, “You’re not supposed to be here until tomorrow.”

I know I should probably try to be nice to him, just in case he’d be more sympathetic to my plight. But at this point, I don’t see what he could do for me anymore. It would be better for me to just move out and not have anything to do with him anymore.

Like Carly said, I have way too many things to worry about now. Too many to spend any energy trying to figure out why seeing my landlord makes my heart rate go up.

“I know, but I’m not here to make you leave,” he says with a friendly smile.

I didn’t expect that. He’s supposed to be kicking me out, so why is he being so nice? It’s weird and suspicious.

“What are you here for, then?” I ask. Suddenly, I remember something I’m supposed to do today. I raise my hand up to cover my mouth. “Oh my god. I’m supposed to pay you last month’s rent today, aren’t I? I’m so sorry. I can go to the bank right now and deposit it into your account. I wasn’t planning to run away, I promise. I wanted to pay you this afternoon, but then something happened and I forgot. But I’m going to do that now.”

Raphael watches me as I prattle on, amusement dancing in his eyes. He doesn’t look angry.

“Have you had lunch?” Raphael returns my question with another question—an unexpected one, at that.

“Uh, no,” I answer reflexively, thrown off balance by the sudden change in the subject of our conversation.

“What do you usually have for lunch? I don’t come to this area very often,” he says.

“I, uh, cook my own food,” I say.

Most people wouldn’t consider what I do with food as cooking.

Most days, I just throw together cheap sandwiches made of stale bread, cheap ham, and the store-brand version of Kraft Singles. Sometimes, I have canned tuna on the bread instead of ham and cheese, but opening a can hardly counts as cooking either. Neither does boiling water for instant ramen, which is what I do when I feel like having a hot meal.

“That’s what I thought. Want to go out and get something to eat?” He asks.

“What, like, right now?” I ask dumbly.

“Yeah. Wanna go?” He raises his eyebrows and gives me a friendly grin.

He doesn’t look dangerous. And I am hungry. I haven’t even had a chance to think about food, much less actually eat. It’s been ages since I last ate out. I don’t really have anything to lose here.

“Okay,” I say. “Wait. You’ll be paying, right?” I pause, my face growing red with embarrassment. I can’t believe I just said that out loud. “Uh, I mean, are we going to split the bill? Because you know I don’t have any money.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” Raphael chuckles.

“Okay, let me…” I look down at my clothes. I’m wearing an old, stretched-out shirt and the same sweatpants I opened the door in two days ago. “Let me change first.” I look back at McClaw, who is waking up from his nap. He yawns, then stares at the narrow gap between the door and the doorframe, looking like he’s plotting an escape. “Do you want to come in and wait inside?” I ask Raphael.

I don’t know if it’s a good idea to invite a guy I barely know into my apartment—which doesn’t have anything other than one big room, so I’m automatically inviting him into my bedroom as well.

I’ve never invited any strange guy to my bedroom, so I don’t know the etiquette. I hope I’m not giving him the wrong idea.

“Uh, I’m worried my cat might run out if I leave the door open,” I say, providing an explanation he never asked for.

“Sure.” Raphael shrugs.

I walk toward the dining table and push McClaw off the pile of clothes that are now warm from his body heat and covered with his orange hairs. He meows in protest as he walks away. I grab a pair of jeans, a pink blouse, and an animal-print belt. Raphael follows behind me and closes the door.

“Sit anywhere you like,” I tell him. I wonder if that’s the right thing to say to the landlord, considering he owns this place. As he takes a seat at the dining table, I go inside the bathroom to change.

I quickly slip off my house clothes and put on the blouse and jeans. I stand in front of the vanity and put on a little tinted moisturizer and mascara.

Then, I stare at my own reflection.

What am I doing? What is happening to my life? What the hell is going on right now?

I was just supposed to move back home today, which would’ve been embarrassing, but it’s not like everybody else isn’t doing it. That’s would’ve been completely normal for someone my age.

Now, though, I’m moving to my friend’s couch and going out to lunch with the landlord, who also happens to be evicting me?

Things are getting weird, and it’s still early in the afternoon. I have no idea what else today will bring. I think I’ll give up guessing and just deal with whatever will happen when it happens.

Maybe it’s not the best idea in the world to adopt Dad’s philosophy of short-term thinking, especially right now, considering what he has just done. But there’s nothing else I can do.

When I open the bathroom door, I see the strangest sight yet. It’s almost as shocking as Dad’s news about the foreclosure this morning.

It’s McClaw, curled up on Raphael’s lap, looking completely content and even purring softly. I stare at the furry orange thing, not quite believing it’s my cat.

He doesn’t like people—especially strangers. In fact, he gets his name because he scratches house guests who get too friendly. This is unprecedented.

My jaw hangs open as I stand in the doorway, unable to tear my gaze from Raphael’s hand, which is gently scratching and stroking McClaw.

Raphael looks up. “Oh, you’re ready? Let’s go,” he says, not realizing what magic he’s conjuring up right now.

Can this day get any weirder?