The Twilight Twenty-Five
Prompt: 5 - Cafe
Pen Name: Miss Winkles
Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella/Edward
Photo prompts can be viewed here:
"…twenty-six-year-old organic vegan chef seeks female roommate. Would prefer a non-meat eater, but not essential. Applicants must be tidy, employed and quiet. No smokers. No pets. No parties…"
"…twenty-eight-year-old SWM seeks female roommate. Must be between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five, slim, pretty, with ample-sized breasts…"
"What the fuck?"
Rose grabs the paper from my hands. "It does not say that. Where does it say that?"
I point to the ad in the bottom corner and her mouth drops open. "What the actual fuck?"
Trawling the wanted ads was not the way I envisioned spending my last morning with my best friend, but nevertheless, there I was. Rosalie had moved her things into Emmett's house the week before, leaving me with just the basics – a bed, a TV and a fridge. As of today, I was officially down a roommate.
"Which suburbs are you looking at?" Rose asks around a mouthful of breakfast.
I shrug, trying not to wallow in self pity as it dawns on me that this is probably the last time Rose and I will have breakfast together as roommates. "Greyhill, Blairmont, Newhaven…maybe Eastbrooke, as long as it's not too pricey."
"Oh my God, some guy's renting out a tree house."
I groan, letting my head slam against the tabletop. "See? See what I have to deal with, Rose? Why do you have to move in with Emmett?"
Stupid Emmett with his stupid house in stupid Westport.
I'd been living with Rosalie for almost three years when she decided to move in with her boyfriend. It's not that I don't like Emmett, I do. I just don't like the fact that he's taking away my best friend and hiding her away in upper-middle class suburbia. She keeps reminding me that Westport is only forty minutes away, but fuck, forty minutes when you don't have a car is three trains and a bus. It might as well be An-fucking-tarctica.
Of course, when Rose moved out it meant I'd either find another roommate, or find somewhere else to live. And because I'm a procrastinating idiot, it's now the eleventh hour, and I've done neither.
Keeping her eyes on the wanted section, Rose rubs my back. "I love living with you, and you're my brother from another mother, Bella. But Emmett and I need our own space…"
"There's heaps of space in our apartment!"
"Bullshit! That place was barely big enough for the two of us. Anyway," she waggles her eyebrows, "I can't wait to have my own place so Emmett and I can get freaky whenever we like, wherever we like."
I groan. "Ugh. Gross."
"Hey! Don't think we have it easy. Emmett couldn't look at you for a week after that guy stayed over."
Lifting my head, I peel a napkin from my cheek. "Which guy?"
"The one with the shaved head, Taylor or…"
I smile lazily, nodding as his pretty face pops into my head. "Tyler."
Rose makes a face of disgust. "Whatever. I need some space, and you need somewhere closer to work."
I sigh, sloshing the cold tea around in the bottom of my cup. "Under a thousand a month?"
"That could be tough."
She's right. Newhaven, Retrouver Hill, Blairmont, they're all beach front suburbs on the fancy side of the city. But that's where the new store is, so it's either live in the cheaper suburbs and commute every day, or live in an expensive apartment close to work. So far my search has turned up absolutely nothing; unless I'm prepared to be a live-in maid for seven hundred a month.
Rose nods, slapping away my hand as I reach for a strawberry off her plate. "Okay. So somewhere within walking distance if possible, and somewhere that's not a tree house or…oh my God, who are these people?"
"…two bedroom, one bathroom, rent negotiable. Applicants must enjoy heavy metal and/or death metal. Cleaning is not a priority, but is always welcome. Must love cats as I have twelve…"
Rose laughs so hard she snorts, earning looks from people around us.
I'm going to miss this bitch so freaking much.
The late night 'Daily Show' marathons.
The after work drinks at Moe's that always turned into one drink too many.
Bra free Sundays.
"Stop it," she snaps from behind the newspaper.
I pout. "I'm not wallowing."
"Yes you are. You're face is all squinchy."
Picking up a spoon I check my reflection. She's right, I am all squinched up. I make a hideous face at her, even though she's behind the paper.
"I saw that."
Grinning, she puts the paper down. "No, I didn't. But I know you did it anyway."
Breakfast turns into lunch as we spread ourselves out at the restaurant table. I read the travel and fashion sections of the newspaper, while Rose reads the business reports. After lunch, she pulls out the classified ads again, scouring the lists as I do the Sunday morning Sudoku puzzle.
"You said Greyhill, right?"
"I think I've found one."
I do a little fist pump as I put the last three into the Sudoku grid, completing the puzzle. "What is it, a timeshare cubby house?"
"No, seriously. It's perfect."
"…two bedrooms, two bathrooms, spacious living and dining, beach views…"
Stoner, college dropout, stripper, all of the above. I'm waiting for the catch.
"…twenty-eight year old professional male…"
He lives with his mom. He's an escort. A nudist.
"…Clean, tidy and friendly, although I work long hours, which means the house is yours most of the time…"
Where's the catch?
"…seven fifty a month including utilities."
"What? That's it?"
"Gimme that." I snatch the paper from her hands, double checking to make sure she read it all right.
She's right – it's all there, from the non-crazy sounding applicant to the totally affordable-on-my-crappy-wage rent.
Rose types the contact number into my phone. "Seems perfect."
"Yeah. A little too perfect if you ask me."
Tiff and Meg, along with PTB made this chapter perfectly pretty. Thank you.
For future reference, each chapter of this story will be 1001 words exactly. It will be 99% fluff and 1% drama. No angst - zero. In fact, it is, as AlbyMangroves calls it, 'Flomedy'.