The Four Boys Next Door

Daisy

By the time I reach the address, I’m pretty sure both of my arms are going to fall off.

The bus from the train station dropped me three blocks away, which had seemed completely manageable when I looked at the route this morning. Three blocks was nothing. I liked walking.

Three blocks while dragging two enormous suitcases over cracked sidewalk was apparently a different category of walking.

I stop at the bottom of the path and let go of both handles long enough to flex my aching fingers. Then I pull out my phone and check the address again.

118 Bellamy Street.

I look up.

The number beside the front door says the same thing.

“Oh my God.”

I’m here.

The house is nicer than it looked in the listing photos. It’s semi-detached, though not in the perfectly symmetrical way I always pictured semi-detached houses. One half is noticeably larger, stretching wider and farther back, with a broad porch and several upstairs windows. The other side is narrower and somehow sweeter, with a small covered entrance and two windows facing the street.

Mine is the small side.

Which is perfectly fine with me.

I drag my suitcases up the path and park them beside the front steps, then check the time. I’m a few minutes early, so I sit on one of the bags and take everything in.

Quiet street. Big trees. Other students walking past every now and then. A bicycle chained to a railing across the road.

And somewhere beyond all of it, only about a twenty-minute walk away, the university I still can’t quite believe accepted me.

I haven’t even been sitting for two minutes when a dark sedan pulls up at the curb.

A woman steps out wearing heels, a fitted pencil skirt, and the kind of blouse that makes me suddenly aware I’ve spent the last seven hours traveling in leggings and an old sweatshirt. Her hair is twisted into a neat bun, and she smiles the second she spots me.

“Hi!” she calls, walking toward me. “Are you Miss Carter?”

I stand quickly. “I am.”

“Perfect.” Her smile somehow gets brighter. “I’m Jenna. We spoke over email about the lease.”

“Oh. Hi.” I laugh a little and hold out my hand. “It’s really nice to officially meet you.”

“You too.”

She shakes my hand, then looks at the two suitcases beside me.

“You came prepared.”

“This is pretty much everything I own right now.”

“Well, then.” She pulls a set of keys from her purse. “Let’s show you where you’re putting it.”

My stomach does a nervous little flip as she walks up the steps.

I’ve seen pictures. I’ve signed papers. I’ve transferred deposits and reread the lease enough times that I could probably recite half of it from memory.

Still, it hasn’t felt entirely real until she slides a key into the lock.

The door opens directly into a small living room.

And I fall in love with it instantly.

It isn’t fancy. There’s a couch against one wall, a low table, and a simple floor lamp tucked into the corner. Everything is clean and bright, though, and the front window lets in enough afternoon sunlight to make the whole space feel warm.

“Oh,” I say softly.

Jenna laughs behind me. “Good oh?”

“Very good oh.”

I walk farther inside.

The living room leads into a little dining area with enough space for a four-person table, and beyond that is the kitchen.

It might be my favorite part.

The cabinets are painted a soft cream, the counters are simple, and there’s a window over the sink looking out toward the back garden. It’s tiny, but not cramped. Cozy.

I can already picture mugs beside the coffee machine. Groceries in the fridge. My textbooks abandoned across the little dining table because apparently imagining myself as the kind of student who studies neatly at a desk is still a fantasy.

“Go upstairs,” Jenna says. “Take a look.”

I don’t need telling twice.

The staircase is narrow and creaks once under my foot as I climb. At the top is a short hallway with three doors.

The first bedroom is at the front of the house. It has a simple double bed, a nightstand, a dresser, and a window overlooking the street.

My room.

I decide that immediately.

Across the hall is the bathroom, small but spotless, with a shower-tub combination and a narrow cabinet beside the sink.

The second bedroom is at the back. Smaller than the first, but still big enough for another bed and nightstand.

I stand there for a second, looking at it.

A spare room.

Or maybe eventually someone else’s room.

That thought is strange.

This whole thing is strange.

In the best possible way.

I head downstairs again and find Jenna waiting by the kitchen counter.

“This place is beautiful.”

She beams. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I really do.”

And I mean it.

There’s nothing special about it yet. No pictures on the walls. No blankets draped over the couch or plants in the windows. Nothing that belongs to me except the two giant suitcases currently sitting outside.

But it feels like somewhere I could make mine.

Jenna pulls a folder from her bag and sets it on the counter.

“Well, all of your paperwork came back perfectly, so as far as we’re concerned, it’s yours.”

I stare at her.

Even though I knew that already, hearing it out loud sends this ridiculous rush through my chest.

“Mine.”

“Yours.” She smiles. “The lease officially begins on the first, but like we discussed, your first month is free.”

“I still can’t believe you’re doing that.”

“It was part of the listing.”

“I know, but still.”

Free rent for an entire month.

When I first got my acceptance letter, I’d spent about three days walking around in a daze before reality started setting in.

Housing.

Every dorm room was already taken by the time I knew I was coming, and most apartments anywhere near campus cost more than I could reasonably afford without working approximately eighty-seven hours a week.

For a little while, I genuinely thought I might have to turn the offer down.

Then this listing appeared.

Two bedrooms. Private. Walking distance to campus.

Affordable.

Suspiciously affordable, honestly.

I’d applied almost immediately.

Jenna had warned me that they’d received a lot of applications. Enough that I’d spent the next week checking my email every twenty minutes while trying not to get my hopes up.

And somehow, they chose me.

She takes the keys off the ring and places them in my palm.

“There are two copies. Front and back door. And since there’s a second bedroom, you are allowed to bring in a roommate if you decide you’d like help covering rent.”

“Okay.”

“They’ll need to be added to the lease, obviously. And just remember that because you’re the primary tenant, any damages are ultimately under your name.”

I nod. “Of course.”

“For now, though, there’s absolutely no requirement that you have someone else here.”

“Good. I think I want to get settled first.”

“I would too.”

She closes the folder and slides it toward me.

“If you need anything, email me. Repairs, questions, anything with the property. I’m usually pretty quick.”

“Thank you.” I wrap my fingers around the keys. “Seriously. For all of this.”

“You’re very welcome, Daisy.”

A few minutes later, I watch through the front window as she gets back into her car and drives away.

Then everything goes quiet.

I turn around.

My living room.

My tiny dining room.

My ridiculously cute kitchen.

Upstairs, my bedroom.

I stand in the middle of the room with the keys still clenched in my hand and let out a laugh because there’s nobody here to hear it anyway.

I actually did it.

I got into the university.

I found somewhere to live.

I made it here.

For the first time since stepping off the train, there’s nothing else I have to do right this second.

No schedule to check. No bus to catch. No suitcase to drag down another sidewalk.

Just me.

In my house.

Well.

A quarter of a house.

I smile.

Still counts.