Brady, the owner of the shop, was out running errands for the Voice Out NGO—where he volunteered and where I’d first met him—so I would only get the chance to talk to Angie. I needed a second opinion and there was no one else I’d ask it of than her anyway. She understood my hesitance in trusting people since she was in the same boat as me on that front. But she also had a level head and the ability to spot assholes that I lacked, so I needed her to tell me if I was stupid for trusting Scott so quickly. I’d been there and done that once and I did not want to be wrong again, especially if I would be sharing an apartment with him.
I looked up at Angie as she took the seat opposite me, a mug of her favorite dark roast coffee in hand. In appearance, we were the complete opposites. Her blond hair was cropped short and though she had no tattoos, she had multiple piercings in her ears and brows that gave her a badass look. She was wearing her favorite leather jacket, paired with a black band t-shirt and black jeans. Basically, the goth teen she hadn’t had a chance to be when she’d lived with her parents.
She stared at me with narrowed eyes and examined me for a moment before saying, “Spill.”
I chewed my lip as I tried to figure out what to say or rather how to say it, “The apartment I went to see today, it was gorgeous. I wasn’t gonna go because it’s got a roommate and I didn’t want that. But it’s close to work and really cheap, so I thought I’d check it out.” I also hadn’t wanted to go alone into a stranger’s house, but I’d had to since both Angie and Brady had been busy and I’d needed to make myself realize that I couldn’t always depend on them anyway.
“Was the roommate an asshole?” Angie asked as she sipped her coffee.
“Not at all. He was nice. He reads our magazine and especially loves your column.”
Angie raised her brow at that but didn’t interrupt, so I continued, “The thing is, you know how it takes me so long to get comfortable around people, especially men?”
“Oh, I know. It took me, what? Two months before you agreed to hang out with me?” She said dryly, giving me a cheeky grin that very few people got to see.
I grinned sheepishly. I’d been very intimidated by her when we’d first met and it had taken Brady repeatedly telling me she was a nice person for me to finally talk to her. “Yeah, I guess. But today, I felt like I could trust Scott, even though I know nothing about him. And now, I’m freaking out because I don’t know why that is. And I don’t want to be wrong like last time.”
Angie stared at me for a few long seconds before speaking, “So, you got the room?”
I nodded, her stare making me fidget in my seat. Angie had this laser focus guess that I swore you could feel all the way to your soul. It was unnerving.
“When are you moving in?”
“Saturday.”
“Ask him if we can come over Friday evening.”
“Okay,” I agreed readily because I knew arguing with her would be useless, and anyway, she was a phenomenal judge of character and really good at getting information out of people. She’d probably find out Scott’s whole life story in one meeting.
“Now, you’ll be coming to Mama D’s for dinner next weekend, won’t you?”
“Duh, of course. I can’t risk her wrath if I missed it.”
Mama D a.k.a. Delilah Sparks was our boss, our mother as well as the woman who saved my life a year ago. If it weren’t for her, I’d probably be living in a shitty-ass apartment with an equally shitty job. I—and every other person her NGO, Voice Out had ever helped—owed my life to her.
“Good. She’s hoping you’ll bake some of her favorite cookies for her but don’t tell her I told you that.”
I grinned. Mama D loved my chocolate cookies and obviously, I loved baking them for her. “If I’m settled into my new place by then, I’ll definitely bake her some.”
“Hey now, I love your cookies too,” Angie protested, almost pouting.
“I’ll bake you some too, my bubblegum, don’t worry.”
Angie scrunched up her nose at the endearment as I knew she would before shaking her head. She glanced at her watch before standing up, “Come on, it’s work time. And for the record, I don’t get why someone would call someone they care about Bubblegum. I mean, you chew and spit a gum. Why would you ever use the word as a pet name?” I laughed at her question as I finished my coffee and followed her fast-paced stalk, hoping that my instinct about Scott was correct and that he’d pass Angie’s test.
Once I was at my desk, I texted Scott about Friday night. His reply came a few minutes later, agreeing to the plans and letting me know that he’ll have dinner covered. Well, that was that. I told myself there was no point in thinking about it anymore and tried to force my brain into work mode, even if it was reluctant to comply.
It was Thursday night and I’d decided to bake some cookies for my soon-to-be-former roommates, Angie, Mama D, and Scott. My choco-chip cookies were something everyone who knew me loved, and I figured it would be a good idea to take some to Scott’s after I invited myself over for dinner with Angie. I wasn’t sure if it was such a good idea, but I also needed Angie to confirm that my intuition wasn’t wrong. I didn’t consider myself a good judge of character anymore. After all, I’d thought my ex was perfect. Look how that turned out.
Shaking my head to clear the morbid thoughts, I concentrated on mixing the dough. The cookies had been one of the first things my mom taught me to bake, and they’d always helped me wind down after an emotionally stressing day, which I’d had a lot of over the past year. By now, my roommates were pretty much used to me baking at 4 a.m, though I’d decided not to wait until then to bake this time. I hoped it wouldn’t be a problem for Scott. I mean, who could even hate waking up to fresh cookies, right?
I poured the batter on the baking tray, topping them with more choco chips to make them extra chocolaty before sticking the tray into the oven. While the cookies baked, I cleaned up the mess I’d made.
“Is Luke baking again?” A voice I recognized called from the living room before a smiling head popped around the doorway.
“Hey, Brady!” I called, waving the spatula I’d been washing in greeting.
“Luke! I heard you’re leaving us. Whatever would I do without you around, honey pie?” Brady pouted as if to show me just how much he’d miss me.
Brady was a small human—almost a foot shorter than me—and his blond hair were short on the sides and falling to his forehead on the top, currently dyed baby pink at the tips. He was a whiz with makeup, which showed in the artfully applied mascara that brought out the green of his eyes. Simply put, Brady was a gorgeous man. I respected him a lot for everything he did for the NGO and the way he ran his cafe, though he looked way younger than his 27 years old because of his playful nature and that ever-present smile. He had a brightness about him that had charmed me from the moment I’d met him, especially since I’d been in such a dark place myself. Rather than staying at a safe distance, though, he’d helped me pull myself out of that darkness. Honestly, I believed he was my best friend but I’d never dare tell Angie that. It was a shame we weren’t each other’s type, because Brady was definitely a guy I could trust, not that I wanted to date anyone anytime soon. No sire, that ship had long sailed.