The apartment door closes behind Cecil, and I stand in the middle of the living room feeling overwhelmed by everything that just happened.
I'm here. I'm actually here. Away from my father. Safe.
It feels surreal.
"So!" Naomi's bright voice breaks through my thoughts. She's standing by the couch, looking at me with that same warm, enthusiastic energy she's had since we arrived. "Cecil gave you the basics, but let me give you the full tour and explain all the house rules!"
"Okay," I manage, still trying to process everything.
She grabs my hand—casual, friendly—and starts pulling me through the apartment.
"This is the living room, obviously. The TV remote is temperamental, you have to hit it twice before it works. The couch is super comfortable for napping. I do it all the time."
She leads me to the kitchen.
"Kitchen! Feel free to use anything. I'm not super organized so if you want to rearrange things to make sense, please do. I cook sometimes but I'm better at ordering takeout. Oh, and the third cabinet from the left has all my snacks—help yourself anytime."
My heart does a little flip at how casually generous she is.
We move down the hallway.
"Bathroom is here. We'll have to share but I'm pretty quick in the mornings. I have a lot of hair products though, sorry in advance. The shower has good water pressure but it takes like thirty seconds to get hot."
She opens another door.
"This is my room. You can come in anytime, I don't care about privacy much. Oh, and if you ever need to borrow clothes or anything, just ask!"
Then she leads me to the room that's apparently mine now.
It's small but cozy. A bed, a desk, a closet. The window looks out over the street.
"And this is your space," Naomi says, her voice softer now. "You can decorate however you want. Paint the walls if you feel like it. Make it yours."
Mine.
I have a space that's mine.
I have to blink back sudden tears.
"Thank you," I whisper. "For letting me stay here. For—everything."
Naomi turns to face me fully, her expression serious for the first time since I met her.
"You don't have to thank me. Nobody should have to live in fear in their own home." She reaches out to squeeze my arm gently. "You're safe here, Sarah. I promise."
The sincerity in her voice makes my chest tight.
She's so genuine. So open. So...
I push that thought away before it can fully form.
"Now," Naomi says, her brightness returning. "House rules! They're pretty simple."
"Okay."
"Rule one: If you're going to be out late, just text me so I don't worry. Not because I'm trying to control you or anything, just so I know you're safe."
That's... actually really sweet.
"Rule two: Clean up after yourself in shared spaces. I'm not super strict about it but like, don't leave dishes in the sink for days."
"That's fair."
"Rule three: If you have people over, give me a heads up. Again, not to be controlling, just so I'm not surprised by strangers in the apartment."
"I don't really have people to bring over," I admit.
"Well, now you have me and Cecil," Naomi says cheerfully. "So that's two people at least!"
I smile despite myself.
"Rule four: Be honest with me. If something's bothering you, if you need space, if I'm doing something annoying—just tell me. I can't fix problems I don't know about."
"Same goes for you," I say.
"Deal!" She holds out her hand and we shake on it, and the formality of it makes us both laugh.
"Any questions?" Naomi asks.
"What about rent? We didn't really discuss—"
"Oh! Right. So my mom helps me out with rent usually, but Laura was paying half. I was thinking we could do like, a third of what Laura was paying? At least until you get more settled and figure out your finances."
"A third?" That's incredibly generous. "Are you sure?"
"Positive. You're escaping an abusive situation. I'm not going to make that harder by charging you full rent."
I don't know what to say to that.
"Thank you," I manage finally. "Really. Thank you."
Naomi waves it off like it's nothing, but it's everything to me.
"So!" She claps her hands together. "You're probably tired. It's been a really intense day. You should probably get some rest—"
"Yeah," I say, suddenly aware of how exhausted I am. Emotionally and physically drained.
"—but before you do that," Naomi continues, and there's a mischievous glint in her eye now, "we have something else to do tonight."
I freeze.
Something else to do?
At night?
Just the two of us?
My mind immediately goes to places it absolutely should not go.
Oh god.
Is she—does she want to—
Heat floods my face as about seventeen different scenarios from the dark romance books I read flash through my mind.
The ones where the roommates have tension and then one night—
"Sarah?" Naomi's voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts. "You okay? Your face is really red."
"I'm fine!" I squeak. "Just—what did you have in mind?"
Please don't say what I think you're going to say.
Please don't notice that I'm blushing.
Please—
"Girls' night!" Naomi announces cheerfully. "Face masks, snacks, trashy TV, the whole thing! I figured since it's your first night here, we should make it fun. Get to know each other better!"
Oh.
Oh.
Girls' night.
Not... the other thing my brain jumped to.
Obviously not the other thing.
What is wrong with me?
"That sounds great," I manage, trying to will the blush away.
Naomi grabs my hand again and pulls me back toward the living room.
"Perfect! I have the best face masks. And we can order pizza. What kind do you like?"
"Um. Anything is fine."
"No no no, be specific! This is important girls' night information!"
"Pepperoni?" I offer.
"Classic! I like you already."
She orders the pizza while I sit on the couch, still trying to calm my racing heart and tell my brain to stop reading so many dark romance novels because clearly it's affecting my ability to have normal human interactions.
Naomi returns with an armful of face mask packets, various snacks, and two wine glasses.
"I have wine but we could also do soda or tea or whatever you want," she says.
"Wine sounds good."
She pours us each a glass and settles beside me on the couch—close enough that our knees touch.
My heart does another stupid little flip.
Stop it, I tell myself firmly. She's just being friendly. This is what friends do. Girls' nights. Face masks. Sitting close on the couch.
This is normal.
"Okay," Naomi says, holding up different face mask options. "We have brightening, hydrating, or detoxifying. Pick your poison."
"Hydrating?"
"Good choice. My skin is so dry lately."
She hands me a packet and takes one for herself, and we spend the next few minutes applying the masks and laughing at how ridiculous we look.
The pizza arrives and we eat it straight from the box while watching some reality TV show that Naomi insists is "the perfect girls' night viewing."
And slowly, I start to relax.
We talk about everything and nothing.
She tells me about her parents—Nalani and Eleri, who apparently are actual gods, which is wild but she talks about it so casually.
She tells me about her friendship with Cecil, about how worried she was about him for a while but he's doing so much better now.
She tells me about her roommate Laura who just moved in with her boyfriend, and how she was happy for her but also sad to see her go.
"I don't make friends super easily," Naomi admits. "I come on too strong. I'm too much for a lot of people."
"You're not too much," I say immediately.
She looks at me, surprised. "You don't think so?"
"No. I think you're..." I search for the right word. "Vibrant. Genuine. Warm. Those are good things."
Her smile is so bright it makes my chest ache.
"That's really nice of you to say."
"I mean it."
She shifts slightly closer on the couch. "What about you? Tell me about Sarah Chen. What do you like? What do you hate? What's your favorite thing in the world?"
I think about it. "Books, probably. Reading. I love getting lost in stories."
"What kind of books?"
Oh god.
Do I tell her?
"Um. Romance mostly."
"Ooh, like what? Sweet romance? Historical? Contemporary?"
"Dark romance," I admit, my face heating. "The kind with... morally gray characters and intense relationships and—" I stop, not sure how to explain without it sounding weird.
"Oh my god, you mean the spicy ones," Naomi says, her eyes lighting up. "With the possessive heroes and the—" she makes a vague gesture, "—the tension?"
"Yeah," I say, relieved she gets it. "Those ones."
"I love those!" Naomi leans forward excitedly. "What's your favorite?"
And just like that, we're deep in a discussion about books and tropes and favorite characters.
Naomi is surprisingly well-read in the genre, and we bond over shared favorites and debate controversial plot points.
"Okay but the third act breakup is sometimes necessary for character growth," Naomi argues.
"It's a cop-out," I counter. "If the relationship is strong, they should be able to work through problems together."
"But what about when one character needs to grow individually first?"
"Then do it in the second act! Don't wait until eighty percent through the book to manufacture drama!"
We're both laughing now, and I realize I haven't felt this light in... I don't know how long.
The conversation drifts to other topics—favorite movies, worst dates we've been on (Naomi has some truly horrifying stories), places we want to travel.
And with each passing minute, I find myself liking her more.
The way she laughs—full and unrestrained.
The way she really listens when I talk, asking follow-up questions and remembering details.
The way she's so unabashedly herself, no pretense or performance.
"Can I ask you something?" Naomi says after a while, her voice softer now.
"Sure."
"That thing with Cecil. Pretending to be your boyfriend to get away from your dad." She pauses. "Are you actually into him? Like romantically?"
"No," I say immediately. "He's great, but no. That was just... a way to escape. He was helping me."
"Good," Naomi says, and there's something in her tone that makes me look at her.
"Why good?"
She shrugs, suddenly focused very intently on her wine glass. "Just... he's with Keith and Dylan. It would be complicated."
"Yeah, I figured that out pretty quickly," I say. "The way he talked about them—he's completely in love."
"He is," Naomi agrees. "It's actually really sweet."
Silence settles between us, but it's comfortable.
We've peeled off our face masks at some point, and Naomi's skin is glowing in the soft light from the lamp.
She's beautiful, I realize suddenly.
Not just pretty. Beautiful.
The way she moves, the way she smiles, the way she makes me feel safe and welcome and seen.
Oh no.
Oh no no no.
I'm falling for her.
I've been here for less than a day and I'm already falling for my roommate.
This is a terrible idea.
This is the worst possible timing.
This is—
"Sarah?" Naomi's voice breaks through my panic. "You okay? You got really quiet."
"I'm fine," I lie. "Just tired. It's been a really long day."
"Of course," Naomi says immediately, standing up. "I'm sorry, I should have let you rest earlier. I just got excited about girls' night."
"No, I'm glad we did this," I say honestly. "It was really nice. Thank you."
"Anytime," Naomi says, and the warmth in her voice makes my heart do that stupid flip again.
We clean up the pizza box and wine glasses, and Naomi walks me to my room.
"If you need anything during the night, just knock on my door," she says. "Seriously. Anything."
"I will. Thank you."
She hesitates for a moment, then pulls me into a hug.
It's warm and soft and smells like whatever perfume she wears—something floral and sweet.
"I'm really glad you're here," she says quietly. "I think we're going to be great friends."
Friends.
Right.
Friends.
I hug her back, trying to ignore the way my heart is racing.
"Me too," I manage.
She pulls back with a smile and heads to her own room, calling out a final goodnight.
I close my door and lean against it, my heart still pounding.
This is bad.
This is really bad.
I just escaped one complicated situation. I don't need to walk directly into another one.
But as I get ready for bed in my new room, in my new safe space, I can't stop thinking about Naomi's smile.
About the way she made me feel welcome and wanted and safe.
About the possibility of something more.
I climb into bed and stare at the ceiling.
I'm falling for her.
After one night.
One girls' night with face masks and pizza and book discussions.
And the scariest part?
I don't want to stop.