02

NEGOTIATING

. . .

The flat was suspiciously cheap when I bought it, but I didn’t know that entailed getting a housemate.

The guy in front of me wasn’t joking. He was very much serious with those piercing brown eyes of his, and the paper between his long fingers confirmed it all.

“How much did you pay?” he asked, popping my thought bubble as I read the paper’s content in disbelief.

I was thinking of asking him the same. I understood where this was going. “No fucking way—”

He let the paper fall to the ceramic floor and interrupted me, “There is a fucking way. I knew it was too cheap to be true.” His jaw clenched, and so did his fists.

I was scared whether he could hurt me to vent his anger any second. After all, I knew nothing about how he was like.

“How’s this possible? How are these papers legal?” I wondered in disbelief. I refused to believe I was fooled that hard to buy a flat already sold to someone else. I did have my dumb moments, but was I dumb to the limit I didn’t know how legal papers looked like?

“I have no fucking idea, but this piece of shit cost all my money!”

I scowled. “You think I didn’t pay too? I have no penny left to go anywhere else now.”

He sighed and palmed his face. “I paid all my inheritance from my father for this!” he exclaimed.

“So, what now? Are we both legal owners?” I asked.

“I have no idea how legal our contracts are, but I know I certainly did not sign up for a housemate.”

“Neither have I. Does this mean you’re leaving?” I had a tiny hope he’d say yes.

“No, no, Miss Adams,” he negated, using my last name that he saw on the paper. “Do I look like a rich billionaire capable of renting another place for you?”

I grimaced. I had to change my last name as soon as possible. “Perrie. Just Perrie.”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. That doesn’t matter.”

“Look, I didn’t sign up for a housemate too, moreover, a male housemate.”

He sneered. “Don’t worry; the feeling’s mutual.”

I faked an unamused smile. “Great! Then we have a deal here. You may leave the place for me and deal with the previous owner to get back your money.”

His jaw tightened. “The fuck? Do you think that thief cares anymore? I bet he’s out of the country as we speak now.”

I remembered the call I tried to make a few minutes before. The guy, who I read his name to be Dave Wilson, was undeniably right. The previous owner robbed us and left. I should’ve known better. I was so dumb.

“You said you used your inheritance. At least it wasn’t your savings that you sacrificed in this! This drained the fuck out of my bank account!” I tried to argue.

He folded his arms against his chest. “Look, Perrie, trying to get me to leave is a lost cause. I paid and will not leave, even if I have to live with you. I don’t mind as long as you don’t disturb me. If you disagree”—he pointed to the door— “the door is over there, wide open.”

Hell, no. My shopping bags, which contained my precious scented candles, were yet to be unpacked. They lay sadly on the floor, as disappointed as me in the situation. The place was mine, or half mine, I didn’t know, so I wasn’t giving it up.

My dreams shattered before my eyes because of a reason I never expected. I moved far away to start afresh, paid all my money, quit my stinky job, yet I wasn’t succeeding. I walked over to the sofa, plumped down on it, and held my temples.

“Neither of us is leaving then, huh?” I whispered, mostly to myself.

I heard his slippers rub against the floor. “Certainly not me.”

“Fuck,” I cursed under my breath, feeling hot tears threatening to leave my eyes.

What was I going to do then? Live under the mercy of a male housemate, who had a high chance of being a typical messy guy and partied till the sun rose? The tears fell, and I held my face in my palms. That was my last straw.

“Oh, shit.” Dave walked over to me. “Look, umm, I dunno how to handle crying people, but I’m sure we’ll find a solution for this. Calm down.”

I looked up at him with my face red and swelling. “Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down when I’ve been robbed of my hard-worked money? I don’t even know what I’m having for dinner tonight!”

The money I paid came from the stinkiest job I could’ve ever taken. I promised myself I’d work it for a short while only, just until I got enough to leave my hometown, then I’d quit and never do it again. The robbery meant all my sweat went for nothing, and I possibly had to redo what I hated the most to regain the money.

“The only thing that will calm me down is you leaving and never coming back again,” I pleaded, sniffing.

He looked away at the open door. “I can’t. This is my place too. I’m not noble enough to sleep on the streets to let you have it for your own. I’m sorry.” Dave’s head hung low as he stared at the floor in defeat.

My legs started jiggling as my elbows leant on my thighs, and my black boots clicked rhythmically on the floor. My fitting jeans started to feel too tight for my comfort. I wanted to claw on them and rip them off badly. I took off my long beige coat to free myself a little from the restriction of my anxiety.

“This isn’t gonna work,” I stated.

“We can share until we find a solution,” he suggested.

I gave him a look. “Excuse me? I don’t know you!”

He sat down opposite me. “Well, hello. I’m Dave Wilson, and I’m a governmental employee. I’m twenty-nine. You?”

I thought he was kidding until I looked up and met his eyes. Dead serious. “Perrie…” I mumbled, unsure I wanted to reveal more.

“Well, I already know that,” Dave replied, “actually, you look awfully familiar, Perrie. Are you a backup actress or something?”

No. Hell, no. The fact he almost recognised me told a lot about what kind of guy he was. Who was I kidding? I am the same type, even worse.

“Umm, no. I’m unemployed.” Well, that was half true. I was accepted for an interview for the job in London, and that was why I moved there. I hadn’t had my first day yet, though.

“Age?”

“You sound like you came from Omegle, for fuck’s sake!” I snarled and got up, walking over to the window to get some air. Dusty air. After processing my words, I started regretting them. Omegle: a stranger chatting site that was filled with horndogs, who usually asked for the gender, age, and nationality first thing before they started bragging about their sizes.

“A regular there?” He followed me and smirked.

I was far worse. “Whatever.” I rubbed my forearms. “Perrie, twenty-four. That’s all you need to know.”

He nodded. “So… I already claimed the master room. You can take the other one and claim the left toilet. We’ll share the kitchen and living room. Hopefully, this doesn’t last long for our comfort.”

I looked him up and down. Did his ears hear the words that left his mouth? He even sounded proud of his efficient division, or it was just my frustrated self hearing things. I hated I was forced to cooperate with those shitty plans.

“No way. I take the master room. Clean the toilet, collect your things, and leave it for me,” I argued. “You can’t leave a lady’s toilet exposed like that!”

Dave sighed and palmed his face. “Fine.” He walked away and retrieved his contract. “Gimme yours. I’ll compare. One of them must be illegal and fake.”

I obeyed, handing the paper to the guy wordlessly. He took a close look at both, examining the differences and stamps. I silently prayed things went in my favour because if they didn’t, I’d be doomed.

“I think yours is the fake one,” he declared a minute later, eyes still on the papers. Talk about hope.

My heart pumped faster, and my palms sweated uncomfortably. “Why not yours?”

He looked up at me. “Look, I’m a governmental employee. I see stamped and signed papers every day. I know what legit papers look like. He probably thought it was easier to fool a woman, which unfortunately worked.” He frowned apologetically.

How misogynistic… and they claim the world is getting better.

“That means… This is legally your place?”

Dave grimaced. “Umm, yeah. I’m sorry.”

What a failure I was.

. . .

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