Kenny takes a step back and cocks his head to the side, studying the hoodie spread on the table in his cramped office.

"See? I told you Hill Cottage would look better on the front."

"That's because of the font and your design. You managed to make it look trendy," I say. My fingertips run over the soft black material, and images of people wearing the garment inundate my mind. It's a bit of wishful thinking because we haven't sold anything yet, but who's heartless enough to leave kids without Christmas gifts and warm clothes?

Lots of people, but I ban the ugly truth from my mind, hoping those willing to help outnumber those who don't care.

"Take the brochures," Kenny says. "And the hoodie in case someone wants to see the quality before purchasing."

I grab the colorful glossy pages from the table and carefully put them in my purse. "Done. Thank you. You're the best."

He pulls me into a one-armed hug, smiling. "The merit is yours because you came up with the idea. Plus, I have a soft spot for those kids. I'll help you more once I hire an assistant."

"About time. You work too much."

Kenny raises his brows, and I punch his stomach lightly. "Don't."

"I wasn't going to say anything." He sighs, releasing me, and snatches the hoodie from the table. My eyes don't stray from Kenny's deft hands as he folds it and shoves it into a paper bag. He's the male Marie Kondo. If the guy made videos of himself folding stuff, he'd be able to hire three assistants instead of one or open a bunch of stores.

"Done," Kenny says, handing me the bag. "Tell me if people like it, okay?"

"They'll love it. You're amazing."

That he smirks and wiggles his brows means nothing - Kenny is the king of self-doubt despite his achievements, although his perfectionism and modesty might be why he got where he is today.

"Any plans for tonight?" he asks.

"I'm going to see Dr. Jennings. And I still have a couple of boxes to unpack."

"Are you sure about living there? You could've stayed with me. I'd be happy."

His voice is laced with concern, and he'd freak out way more if he knew I agreed to live with a guy who didn't treat me in the best of ways, but I'm not eighteen anymore. It's not Kenny's job to protect me. He'll sleep better thinking Sebastian is my friend, or so I hope.

"I'll be okay," I say, hoping I sound confident. "The apartment is close to campus, and my bedroom is big."

Kenny shrugs. "Alright. I just wanted you to know you can count on me."

"I know I can," I say.

I also wouldn't forget there was a time I couldn't count on anyone but him.

***

Dr. Jennings' office is an oasis of familiarity decorated in various shades of blue and gray. It doesn't look like a typical doctor's office, and the air is infused with the oceanic scent instead of the smell of disinfectant.

Today, our session revolves around my new roommate and the upcoming holidays, and once it's over, I retrieve a brochure from my purse and clear my throat, shifting on the navy blue couch.

"Dr. Jennings, I know I might be overstepping, but I wanted to show you something."

My therapist nods toward the colorful page in my hands. "What's that?"

"Kenny designed hoodies to help me raise money for Hill Cottage group home so the kids can have Christmas gifts and go on a skiing trip if we sell enough."

I hand him the catalog, and he studies it with a barely-there smile on his tanned face. "These are cool. Do you want me to spread the word?"

"If you're okay with it."

"More than," Dr. Jennings says. "Everyone loves hoodies. They're way better than lab coats."

A funny grimace accompanies his last words, and I heave a relieved sigh. It's never easy to ask for help, especially when money is involved, but I know Dr. Jennings well enough to be sure he's okay with supporting good causes.

"Can I keep the brochure?" he asks. "If you have more, give them to me. I'll leave some at my friend's restaurant and give the rest to my colleagues."

"That'd be amazing. If anyone's interested, tell them they can try the hoodies on in Fashion Victim, Kenny's boutique. The address is on the back."

"Awesome." Dr. Jennings rests the brochure on his desk and leans back in his chair. "Before you go, do you have any more questions?"

"I'm still wondering if I did the right thing by moving in with Sebastian."

"Probably not. But you'd definitely make a mistake if you decided to live alone. We're social creatures, Tara. And for someone who went through what you did, having a friend near is important."

Can I call Bast a friend? Not really, but that's something my doctor doesn't need to know. My dysfunctional family life gives him enough to work with.

"I'll tell you how it goes," I say. "And thank you for agreeing to help the kids."

Dr. Jennings casts another glance at the pictures of Kenny's creations plastered across the glossy paper. "My pleasure."

***

It's close to nine p.m. when I unlock the door of my new apartment. There's a vacant spot on the shoe rack where Bast's giant sneakers used to be, and I leave my boots next to it before shrugging off my coat.

In the living room-slash-kitchen, I flick on the light and pad to the sectional. It didn't have a single cushion when Bast showed the apartment to me, but I changed that by adding a bunch of throw pillows.

That they're pink didn't sit well with my new roommate, which is something I'd anticipated. The framed quote saying Swans Are Also People isn't his favorite, either, but now it proudly stands out in all its glittery glory against the dull white wall. What it means is, intelligence and beauty aren't mutually exclusive, but people like Elena might disagree.

As my eyes rove over the room, it dawns on me Bast will probably say something about the scented candles on the coffee table, too. Chuckling, I light one of them and go to get a bottle of Merlot from the kitchen. After opening the wine, I pour some into a glass and return to the couch.

While I scroll through my Instagram feed, a message from Kenny pops up, in which he says he already received an order for a dozen hoodies. I'm still grinning at the screen when the front door clicks open.

My heartbeat stutters. Bast and I haven't spent enough time as roommates because Brian and Leah had a housewarming party yesterday. It was late when we came back home, and I went to unpack while Bast locked himself in his room.

Sebastian appears in the doorway and freezes, staring at me as if he forgot I live here now.

I give him a small wave. "Hey."

He nods, raking a hand through his hair. It looks damp, and his chest heaves. "Hi," he rasps. "I went for a run."

My gaze trails over the black tee clinging to his pecs and slides down to his long legs in a pair of equally black shorts. Before he notices I'm ogling him, I grab the glass and take a generous sip.

"I need to shower," Bast says. He disappears into the dark hallway, and disappointment swirls in my insides. I'm positive he'll stay in his bedroom again, but I wouldn't mind his company tonight.

I lose myself in mindless web browsing and fashion articles, sipping the wine.

"It smells great in here."

Bast's voice sends shivers down the length of my back. I straighten and leave the phone on the couch by my side.

"Thanks. Was your run okay?"

Bast sits next to me, and instead of orange and vanilla, the fresh scent of his body wash attacks my smell receptors.

"It was," he says. "Where have you been?"

Before I get the words out, Bast shakes his head. "Sorry. It's none of my business."

"It's okay. Roommates talk."

"True." He chuckles. "It's just weird. I was used to Brian."

"And I to Leah."

"And now those two are happily fucking in their love nest."

"Jealous?" I wink.

"Nah." Bast folds his arms behind his head, sagging against the back of the sectional. "I'm happy for him. It's what he wanted. Plus, my current situation isn't that bad."

That's the closest thing to a compliment I will get, so I accept it.

"Want some?" I point to the bottle.

"Yeah. Thanks."

I hop off the couch and go to get a glass for Bast. He watches as I fill it with wine, and when he takes it from my hand, his long fingers cover mine.

I almost fool myself into thinking it's on purpose, but why would it be?

"We need to buy groceries," Sebastian says. His thumb rubs my knuckle, and my grip on the stem of the glass tightens, as does every muscle in my body.

"So tense." He continues moving the calloused pad over the back of my hand, and my cheeks heat. "Why, Tara?"

"Why what?" I choke out.

"Are you afraid of me? You did the same in the woods."

"Did what?"

"The tensing. Fuck." Bast lets go of me and runs his palm over his face. "I...it's this smell. What's it?"

I put his glass on his lap, and Bast takes it before it falls. "Orange and vanilla," I say. "It used to be my mom's favorite scent."

"Used to be? She doesn't like it now?"

"She doesn't," I whisper.

"It's a shame," Bast mumbles into the goblet. "Because I do."

"And your mom? What does she like?"

Awareness of what I'm doing spreads through me - I'm defusing the tension. Making sure we don't touch each other. Inching away, so Bast's bare knee doesn't brush mine. Asking him questions so he wouldn't say something he'd regret once he retreats into his room for the night.

"She's not really into candles and stuff. At least she wasn't before," he says. "Now the house reeks of cigarette smoke."

"Does she smoke?"

"My father does," Bast says. "I don't know how the fuck to make him quit."

"He needs to want to give it up." I wrap my hands around the glass and take a drink.

"He tried, but each time he works on a new case, he relapses."

"Case?"

"He's a detective in Ashwick," Bast says. "A run-of-the-mill town, depressing as shit. I hate it. I'd rather we'd moved to Southville. At least there's a beach, and the village is pretty."

"Where did you use to live?"

He looks into the burgundy liquid as if the words he needs swim in it. "Here. But Dad had a disagreement with his superior and wanted to start clean. I just wish he fucking asked us first, especially Mom. She loathes Ashwick even more than I do."

"So, he just told you you were moving there?"

"Basically. I mean, the guy my father worked under did really shitty stuff, and he's the boss now. I can't blame Dad for wanting a change. I guess he didn't have other options, either."

"Ashwick isn't far from where I live," I say. "The forest is beautiful."

"Always looking for a silver lining, right?" Bast leans his head against the back of the couch and swallows. "I used to be like that, too."

"Why do you think I do that?"

He turns his head, and his hazel eyes search my face. "Am I wrong?"

"I just don't think focusing on the bad helps." I trace the rim of the glass with the tip of my index finger. "It's draining. It leaves you empty and makes you resentful."

"Tara."

My gaze locks with Bast's. His stare burns me like the flame burns the wick of the candle Sebastian seems to like. Confusion overpowers everything else I feel because he acts differently, and I don't know which version is the real him.

"What?"

"I didn't mean the things I said to you. The mean stuff. I don't want us to fight now that we live together."

"I don't want to fight, either," I say. "More wine?"

"No." Bast sighs. "Thank you, but it's better if I go to my room. Don't touch my glass. I'll rinse it later."

"Sure."

Sebastian jumps off the couch and leaves me alone, and I stay in the same spot, thinking about our conversation.

I don't know if I can trust him. I don't know what crossed his mind when he touched my hand, and I have no clue why I reacted to his skin on mine in such an intense way.

An hour later, I extinguish the candle and drag my feet to my new room.

Light filters from under Bast's door, and my steps slow. I raise my hand, but common sense trumps my desire to knock and wish him goodnight.

What's more, I'm not sure there's a silver lining to wanting someone you thought you hated.

Hello to all the new and not-so-new readers! What are your thoughts on the story?
P.S. I'm always looking for song suggestions. Check out the one on top. I think it's very fitting.

Hope you're enjoying the story!