I wipe my sweaty palms on my black jeans. Oddly, they don't leave a darker stain on them. It's surprising since the amount of sweat that's being forged out of my hands is the equivalence to the Mississippi River. Intimidated was an understatement - I'm terrified.

The house is considerably ginormous and in a wealthy, remote neighborhood near Pines Forest. It's angled on the curb of the street and has a cabin feel to it. There are no bricks or block-like wooden planks; it's consisting of rounded logs that were a deep copper shade. The roof, however, was a mixture of mahogany and sage green. They're complimentary to each other, and look nice, but somehow manage to still bother me.

I [barely was able to] park the U-Haul truck on the curve. Stepping out of the vehicle, I decide to take a scan of my surroundings just one more time. All the other neighboring houses have a sleek, modern design. The buildings imitate each other in a way, almost like clones. Their bland, pearl white walls, pale blue tinted windows, and obsidian black windowsills set me uneasy. Living in such uniformity would be absurd!

I wipe my hands onto my jeans for the second time, then proceed to reach for my phone that was concealed in my back up. It's a bad habit to constantly check one's phone, and I knew that, but it gives me an excuse to not make my way over to that cabin-looking house.

I find myself burying into the chat messages that Ty had sent me yesterday. Part of me hoped that maybe, due to my own stupidity, I had driven to the wrong address. After all, what kind of rich guy would need a roommate?

Ty(ler) Ell(esb)i(an)s

dude
i mean i could set you up
for something
pull some strings n' shit
since you're in a desperate
situation

What???

i know this guy who's
looking for a roommate
because he's struggling to
pay his rent and i mean you
need a place to crash at right?

Um yeah?

like you have your shit packed
since you're being evicted right??

I told you this

i'll just call the dude up and you
can head there tomorrow
i'm sure he'll be happy 2 room
with you

Ok sure just txt me the address
read yesterday

1401 North Pine St.
sent yesterday

As an opportunist, I jumped to the chance of getting a roommate. Previously being an art student, getting a job and some income for myself wasn't precisely as simple as it had sounded to me when I was a freshman. I should have picked engineering or something.

Moreover, now wasn't the time to contemplate about my own mistakes in career choices. It's either now or never that I interact with the guy Ty had set me up with. I wipe my hands one last time on my jeans and trudge up the sidewalk and towards the door. I knock. Once, twice, hell even three times. Nothing.

I know for a fact that someone's sitting in that house, maybe two or three perhaps. The lights are all on and I'm pretty sure some stupid 8-bit song is being blasted on the second floor. I pound my fist against the door, and when that didn't work I rang the doorbell.

The music stopped. On the other side of the door I could hear dogs barking. Again, intimidated is an understatement - I'm terrified.

"Ty, I swear to fucking god, what is it?" A voice snaps as the door opens. I'm met with a petit brunet boy with round, coffee brown eyes. He's wearing an oversized pastel purple sweater and gray sweatpants that have, what I'm assuming to be, wine stains on them. He looks underweight, judging by his slender, bony fingers and his receding skin. There are dark circles under his eyes, too. "Oh, uh, you're not Ty."

It took me a while to notice the barking dogs that stood on both sides of him. I gulped, "Yeah, I'm not." Fuck, that sounded so idiotic.

"May I help you then, Not-Ty?" He huffs while crossing his arms (well, more like flappy sleeves). The dogs growl and are ready to pounce if I make the slightest move. He sees how tense I am and coo towards his pets. "Down girls, not yet."

Not yet? The hell was that suppose to mean? I attempt to ignore the two ravages and get to the point, "Well, Ty sent me your address. I heard you need a roommate and he said you'd let me move in and help with the rent."

His face doesn't light up like I expect it to. He's cocky and proceeds to raise an eyebrow, signifying curiosity, "Oh?"

"Yeah," I nod.

He turns around, not batting an eye, "Basement's all yours. Don't touch my stuff in my room. In fact, don't touch anything that's on the second floor. I respect your space, you respect mine. Don't bother me."

"Even if it's a life threatening emergency?" I question.

He glares at me, ice cold, "If you can handle it yourself, it's not an emergency. Also, respect my dogs. If I even catch you disrespecting them, you're being thrown out onto the street where you belong. Got it, blondie?"

Blondie? I'd normally reply with a crude remark, but my body is flooding with the feeling of apprehension. My Adam's apple bobs up and down. I proceed to nod subconsciously. He marches up the nearby stairs, disappearing out of sight. His dogs follow and I'm left alone on the lower level, quite dumbfounded.

I guess I'm going to have to lug all my stuff to the basement.

I sigh exasperatedly and head back towards the U-Haul truck. The guy is a total asshole, but at least I have a roof over my head.