AllFreeNovel
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I freeze midway. Uh... Okay, not a pantry.
Creaking the door fully open, that dread pools into me once again, as I stare at no more than twenty shirts hung on a tiny rod. This is her closet? Everything she slips onto her back in the morning fits in here? I take in the tiny space that can hardly accommodate for my size, noting the mini dresser and the three pairs of shoes slotted underneath.
The longer I look in silence, I expect an oncoming wave of anger. But one never comes. Only sickness. And the insatiable need to wire transfer every last cent from my checking account into hers. I would, right this instant, if I didn't know her so well. Her pride would never allow it, which means I'll have to get crafty.
In due time.
With a solemn expression, I pack her clothes, each Legend of Zelda, Pokémon, and Lord of the Rings T-shirt lifting the corners of my lips a little higher, until I can't seal them any longer. "Think you need another graphic tee?" I tease.
Her response is immediate. "Only if you buy another pair of yacht shoes to match."
My jaw drops and defenses shackle high. What a garbage stereotype. Does it look like I'm on a yacht right now? I'll answer that. No, I'm not, because I'm stuck here breaking my back in a concrete prison. And even though Daddy's Money is my sole identifier, that doesn't mean I can't wear something more refined and sophisticated like a pair of...
I look down, finding my feet adorned in navy suede and leather laces.
Shit.
Eyes bulging, I whip a one-eighty. "Hey, I didn't pack up your entire apartment on a Friday just to take lip from you."
"Oh my god, Hayden, you're such a girl!" Lips spewing, Juliana laughs contagiously. I turn back toward the empty closet, hiding my smile. "If you're so tired, then I'll take the next bin." Her footfalls sound behind me.
A quiet grumble is my only reply, as I stash away her last item, a heavily worn pair of checkered Vans she practically lived in throughout high school.
"But seriously, thanks for finishing up the clo—" Her sentence cuts short, followed by a short silence. "You missed something."
Facing her, I stand to my full height, which is a good full head taller than her. "Did I?"
She looks around my shoulder, pointing. "My apron. It's hanging right there."
I arch an eyebrow, following the direction of her finger, finding The Caffeine Cove at the end. "Why would you need that? I'd like to think you don't keep souvenirs of places that don't accept tips."
"Uhh..." She chuckles awkwardly. "I can't go to work without my apron."
"And why would you need to keep working?" I ask, earning a flurry of rapid blinks.
"So I can pay rent."
Ohh, my sweet, silly Jules.
I chuckle. "Come on, now. I'm offended. You really think I'd make you pay rent at my place?
"What?" She shakes her head, her face screwing up like she's getting directions from a toddler. "No, not your place. Here. I need to work so I can pay rent here."
My shoulders sag, utterly deflated. "But you're moving out."
"Yes, temporarily."
Wearing a scowl, I look around the tiny space.
She scoffs. "Are you seriously about to ask why?"
"Uhh, yeah. The place is hardly big enough for a bed."
"You're an ass, you know that?" She shoulders past me, snatching her apron off the rack. "I live here because it's cheap. And, yes, my part-time day job might be below the likes of someone like you and, sure, the owner is a total bitch who's taking advantage of me, but at least she doesn't fire me the second she finds out I'm an entrepreneur during lunch breaks, like my last ten jobs."
Each crack in her voice is another stab to my heart. "Juliana," I say lightly, "I'm—"
"And for the record"—she breezes past me once more, carrying the final bin—"a lot of people would kill for this apartment, even if no one will notice the sudden vacancy, because it's so small I can never host anyone. In this part of the city, micro-studios—especially ones that stick to their monthly rent, year by year—are like striking gold. I had to apply five times before I was accepted, and I don't intend on losing this unit, while I'm off playing your fake girlfriend, only for me to have nowhere to live once I move out of your—"
