I Found You
Joe needed a new place to live.
Since moving into Radford Court Apartments he'd been subjected to aural torment every other weekend, though it was far worse during the summer months when subwoofer-powered EDM made his walls vibrate on a near-daily basis. Much to his chagrin, most of the building's tenants attended these legendary parties so the landlord paid his single complaint no mind. One Saturday in September, Joe paused from writing his sustainability report to look up at the ceiling. The fourth floor remained silent. He worked until 23:00 and tentatively went to bed, keeping an ear open for any sounds of an impending party. But none came; instead, a persistent creak woke him an hour later. He listened for a while, realizing the occupant above him was pacing. With an annoyed grunt he got out of bed and didn't bother putting on a shirt before heading up the stairwell and knocking on the door.
A skinny Asian guy answered, and when Joe chastised him about his pacing he explained that he was nervous for a date. Joe was sympathetic since he'd been awkward around girls, too… until age twelve, then puberty struck and his Slavic genetics presented themselves in all their glory. During the last few years at his coed Catholic school, girls in his grade had practically thrown their panties at him despite his vocal, vehement disinterest. His parents pressured him to attend university in his hometown so he might earn the affection of an administrator's daughter, but Joe hated politics; he wanted to do something that benefited the world instead. Because of his love for nature, he decided to study environmental science at the University of Washington. The culture of Seattle was a lot different than that of eastern Russia but the temperate forests fended off the majority of his homesickness.
Joe spent Sunday morning browsing housing ads, expanding his search to nearby communities because everything in the U District was overpriced. A tiny ad eventually caught his eye, reading: Seeking roommates for Shoreline home. $500/month rent includes utilities & cable/internet. Call to schedule an interview.
Shoreline was only ten miles north of campus; commuting twenty miles per day was well worth moving out of Radford Court. He dialed the provided number and was disappointed to get an answering machine. "Hi, my name is Josef Levin and I saw your rental ad online. I'm a senior at the University of Washington, I have a job, and I'm trying to escape the party scene. If you decide to consider me, give me a call at this number…" After showering, shaving, and getting dressed Joe returned to the kitchenette and found a message on his phone. "Mr. Levin? Sorry I missed you. I'd like to meet today if you have the time." He jammed the receiver into his ear while writing down the address; it was a bit hard to understand because the speaker had a thick Irish accent. He smiled at his hurried handwriting and headed out. The house in Shoreline could very well be his salvation.
Joe felt bad when he roared onto Cherry Loop in his Suzuki Samurai, a small old SUV that also served as the environmental class' trail rig. 'The ad couldn't possibly be for one of these houses…' But the GPS confirmed he was in the right area. He parked in front of a three-bay garage and walked up the front steps. When he rang the doorbell he heard it echo through the interior and grew nervous, wondering what kind of person lived here. The guy on the phone hadn't sounded very old. Maybe this was his parents' vacation home and they wanted to make extra money by renting it out. Had he read the ad correctly? Was it really only going to cost him five hundred dollars a month to live in this mansion?
The door opened, revealing a man who immediately held out his hand. "Mr. Levin?" he asked.
They shook firmly. "Yeah, Josef. Just call me Joe." It sounded weird for someone his age to address him as "mister".
"Joe, then. I'm Kaelan Burke. Come on in."
He stepped inside, instantly feeling dwarfed by the vast, empty abode. The walls were bare and skylights illuminated vaulted ceilings. Straight ahead of the entry was what looked like the living room; old leather couches sat around a huge fireplace, and off to the left was a staircase with a carved wooden railing. The floors were all hardwood, probably mahogany, and appeared recently refinished. Joe stopped taking in his surroundings to focus on the owner. "Did you say Burke, as in the museum?"
"Yes. Thomas Burke was my great-great-grandfather." Joe regarded him skeptically, noting that Kaelan looked nothing like the museum's founder due to his pale skin, cool grey eyes, and platinum hair. His lashes and brows were silvery as well but he had to be around Joe's age, no older than 24. "I've got a melanin deficiency," Kaelan explained in slight exasperation. "You were expecting freckles, red hair, and green eyes, yeah?"
Guilt washed over him. "Err, well, that is the stereotype…" Joe apologized, hoping he hadn't sabotaged his chances of moving in. "So the interview?"
"Right. This way, please." Kaelan led him from the foyer to the kitchen which was as impressive as expected. There were new stainless appliances, granite countertops, maple cabinets, and a breakfast nook with a bay window overlooking the woods and rocky beach beyond. An opening on the opposite wall connected to the dining room but the table and chairs were covered with moving blankets.
"How long have you lived here?" Joe asked.
"A couple weeks," Kaelan answered, earning a look of surprise. "My granddad left me this house in his will."
"Oh… I'm sorry for your loss." The words were automatic but Kaelan shrugged off the condolence.
"I didn't really know him," he explained. "He was my dad's dad, and he didn't stick around after I was born. It was just me and Mum until a month ago. One day I'm up to my elbows in fish guts and the next I get a letter saying I've got to come to America to claim an inheritance." He paused, smirking. "This house isn't even the best part. The old man left me a big chunk of the family fortune so now I'm stupidly wealthy."
Joe shook his head at the notion of unexpectedly inheriting millions of dollars and wondered if he had any estranged relatives. "Why do you want roommates, then? You'd no longer have this place all to yourself."
Kaelan shrugged at the question but his answer belied his indifference. "It'd be too easy to go wild with this money. I can't take it back to Eire, something about taxes. Since I have to stay here I figured I should try making some friends… and it's odd hearing my voice echo in every room. So I thought if I gave some people a nice place to stay they could help me figure out how to spend my millions in ways that benefit even more people. That way I can do right by my granddad."
Joe beamed; he liked the fact that Kaelan had integrity. And there was something else about the man he couldn't quite figure out. It was like he knew Kaelan from somewhere, but Ireland and Russia were a few thousand kilometers apart. Joe tried to suppress his feeling of déjà vu while answering questions about his degree and final project, his hobbies and interests, his job, and his future plans. When Kaelan finished he leaned back on a bar stool, smiling a little. "I've only got one question left– when would you like to move in?"
Mina had a sweet job on campus. She was a secretary in the sports medicine center, but there was an upside to sitting in front of a computer and filing paperwork: she got to check out all the sexy athletes as they came in for physicals, and it was football season. Some of the potential players loitered without their shirts on and tossed intrigued glances her way, wondering if she wanted what they were offering. She really, really did, but Ami would chastise her. Getting distracted by boys was one reason why she'd almost been held back in high school. Mina would never admit it, but without Ami to keep her on track she definitely wouldn't have gotten into college. She was thankful that Ami's diligent tutoring had raised her grades enough to earn a scholarship for the University of Washington. They were even roommates, which was nice because Mina didn't know if she could handle the stress of freshman year without her best friend at her side.
She averted her gaze from the male specimen at the water fountain to focus on a sheaf of exam results. Before she could deposit them into the Husky coach mailboxes another tall, muscular guy walked in and came to a stop before the front desk. Her eyes flicked up to find him staring at her in bewilderment. "Usagi?" he asked.
"Uh, no…" Mina pointed at her name tag.
He shook his head and smiled apologetically. "You look just like someone I met last week. Are you from Japan, too?"
"Yeah, Tokyo," Mina answered, wondering if the boy had encountered a gyaru somewhere. She didn't identify with that subculture since her blonde hair and tan skin were natural due to years spent on beaches and in chlorinated pools. "Are you here for a physical?"
"Yeah, I think it's at twelve-thirty. Name's Nicholas Meyer."
She consulted the day's scheduled appointments. "Sorry, you're early. It's at one-fifteen."
Nicholas dragged a hand down his face and groaned. "I was hoping to avoid my roommate for a bit, he's in a mood. Theater major."
Mina gave a short laugh. "I'm rooming with my best friend and she's already stressing even though we haven't had exams yet. Pre-med."
"At least that's justifiable. My roomie yelled at me 'cause I was humming." Nicholas rolled his eyes and leaned on the counter, directing an easy smile at the girl. He intended to stay and chat, and since he was attractive Mina obliged.
"What position do you play? I'm assuming you're on the football team."
"Yeah, I'm an outside linebacker. Do they even play football in Japan?"
"Some schools have teams, it's catching on slowly. We usually call it 'American football' because football means soccer—"
"Isn't that annoying?" Nicholas interjected, slapping the desk with his large palm. "Americans are always inventing words for things that already have perfectly good names! Where I'm from, football is rugby and soccer is diski. They don't even spell 'racquet' the right way here." He shook his head in mock disdain while Mina laughed, then he leaned in conspiratorially. "If I ask you something, will you promise not to think I'm ignorant?"
She also moved forward until their noses almost touched, narrowing her light blue eyes to scrutinize his deep brown ones. "That depends on your question."
"Why do all you Japanese girls speak such good English?"
Mina covered her laugh with one hand. "How many Japanese girls do you know, Mister Meyer?"
"Three, including you."
"I see. Well, we start learning English in primary school and study all the way through high school. Some people end up becoming teachers themselves or interpreters and translators for big companies. Speaking good English can also get you a job as a tour guide which is fun for people who like traveling."
"Lekker," Nicholas grinned. His cheeks grew warm as Mina raised an eyebrow. Upon arriving in the States he had quickly discovered that very few people understood his colloquialisms and made a point to adjust his speech patterns. "Ag, sorry…" he mumbled.
"You don't have to apologize, I got the gist of it." Mina glanced at the clock and was happy to see that it was time for her lunch break. "Want to grab something to eat with me? You have forty minutes until your physical anyway." Nicholas agreed but had to retrieve his wallet from his room, much to his annoyance. They trekked northwest across campus and entered Elm Hall.
Mina had not yet been in a boy's room so she was curious as to what it would look like, standing behind Nicholas while he knocked rhythmically upon the door. "Come on in," someone answered. The scent of Old Spice greeted her nostrils right away, but Nicholas was an Axe-wearer so it must have belonged to the room's other occupant. He rotated to face them, giving Mina an intrigued once-over before turning to his roommate. "Who's this?" he inquired.
"Minako Aino," she provided, "but call me Mina."
He held out a hand and said, "Zacharie le Blanc, but I prefer Zach. Enchanté."
When Mina clasped it he swept her knuckles to his lips, captivating her with hazel eyes of the light brown and green variety containing blatant desire. He had a masculine voice and haircut offset by androgynous facial features; it was easy to picture him rocking a contour. She didn't think the French was fake given his name and aristocratic air. As if reading her mind Nicholas remarked, "Don't let him fool you. Zach's from New Orleans, not France." Her would-be suitor glared daggers as she stifled a snicker and reclaimed her hand. Nicholas then grunted in annoyance. "Where's that dang wallet? I know I left it right here…" He began unmaking his bed.
Mina inched farther into the room. Nicholas' half was tidy and monochromatic except for a tower of brightly colored CDs with African names she couldn't pronounce. On his desk was a bulky outdated laptop-tablet combo and miniature world landmarks that appeared to be constructed from pieces of metal. Above his bed was a poster of Nelson Mandela and the quote "Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world." Oddly, she didn't see a single thing related to football. Zach's side of the room was like a tiny arts and crafts store. No two things were the same color or texture and he had a tall shelf packed with knick-knacks, art supplies, tools, and books both new and vintage. If someone asked Mina to describe this boy she would say he lived in controlled chaos. She peered over his shoulder and saw him constructing a diorama, a miniature stage complete with fabric scrap curtains and tiny actors. "What's that for?" Mina asked.
Zach beamed with pride. "It's my stage lighting project. Check it out." He flicked a switch on the side of the box and LED bulbs shone down on the cardboard, then he turned a dial and the bulbs cycled through different colors. "Lighting plays a big part in setting the tone of a scene. This baby will earn me extra credit for sure." Nicholas cleared his throat and Zach shot him an annoyed look. "Thanks to you, I guess. Perks of having an engineer for a roommate."
Mina was temporarily taken aback. "I thought you were a football player?"
"I'm actually majoring in civil engineering, but I decided to try out for the team this season." Nicholas flashed a self-deprecating smile. "I know I don't seem like someone suited for anything other than sports."
Mina bowed deeply. "I'm sorry. I guess it really is true that you can't judge a boy by his muscles."
In order not to inconvenience Mina during her lunch break, Zach surrendered Nicholas' wallet and watched him walk out the door with envy in his heart. She was beyond gorgeous, a real catch, but Nicholas was such a clod that he had no idea how to handle a girl like her. They were much better suited to being friends. If Mina started coming around more often, Zach could work his magic without seeming too obvious. She had a fantastic body and probably knew how to use every part of it in bed; if she didn't, he could teach her.
Now that his diorama was complete he had to write up the paper that went with it. Zach was a fabulous procrastinator but still received good grades since he worked better under pressure. He made his way to the library where he was unsurprised to see hundreds of freshmen fueled by coffee and desperation working to get their assignments finished by tomorrow. He smiled knowingly since he had been just like them last year; as soon as he got to college all he wanted to do was enjoy his newfound freedom. No parents, no more high school drama or two-faced friends, just parties with endless supplies of booze and hot people to hook up with. Zach didn't care who his dick ended up in as long as they were clean, but every once in a while he encountered someone seemingly immune to his seductive charms and that only made him want them all the more. There was such a target in his crosshairs currently, a female library assistant who reeked of sexual repression. He knew from asking around that she was a freshman but she was as serious and focused as a senior, maybe because she was pre-med, something to do with the brain. Zach wasn't concerned with her studies unless they were of him. Even as he sat down on the front desk she didn't look up from her notebook. "Bonjour, Amy."
"It's Ami," the girl stated, "ah-mee. Why are you incapable of saying my name correctly?"
Zach grinned; he loved teasing her. "Mademoiselle Ami, are you ready to do me the honor of having dinner with me?"
"Only in your dreams," she answered. "On second thought, I don't want you harassing me there, either."
"One could hardly call this harassment," Zach returned with a flippant wave. "We're just having a conversation, right?" He shifted forward to inhale her delectable perfume of osmanthus and magnolia. The latter scent stirred recollections of home: outdoor holiday parties, chasing fireflies, sunlit morning mist between willow trees… He shook his head before bad memories could intrude. "You'd be surprised by what you do in my dreams, Ami."
"No doubt I'm naked in some Kama Sutra position." She said this in a monotone that made him laugh.
"Not at all! But I can certainly turn that vision of yours into a reality." Ami finally released her pencil and locked her almond-shaped eyes on the boy, their dark intensity sending a shiver down his spine. She was so stoic, and he made sure to savor the moment when anger banished her otherwise impassive mask. Zach leaned even closer, his lips curving into something between a smile and a smirk. "All we do in my dreams is walk through gardens and share sweet kisses. Tell me what I have to do to make them come true."
"I want you to leave me alone," she stated, returning to her notebook. Zach sighed dramatically and hopped off the desk, tossing a wave to some theater students from last year's production. He started toward them but paused and spun around.
"Hey Ami, how many other Asians do you know?" She groaned in exasperation. "Have you met this girl named Mina Aino? Sort of a strawberry blonde?"
Ami folded her arms and scowled. "As a matter of fact, I do know Mina. She's my roommate and also happens to be my best friend, but she's not your type."
"All beautiful people are my type," Zach replied with a wink, sauntering away.
Ami wanted to slap him, anything to wipe that smug look off his face. Her distaste for the boy she hardly knew was replaced by concern for her truest friend in the entire world. How did Zach even know about Mina? Had they met somewhere? He didn't look like an athlete so he wouldn't have any reason to go to the sports clinic. Maybe he had a friend who scouted for girls he could seduce. How nefarious.
Thanks to Zach she could no longer focus on her homework. With a sigh Ami stood up and grabbed the cart of books to be shelved, thanking another assistant for organizing them. No one glanced away from their papers or computers as she skirted the tables. She was invisible to them, just the way she wanted it, but she couldn't make herself unseen by Zach no matter which tactic she tried. He hit on her at least three times a week even though she'd made it clear she wasn't interested. He obviously had a privileged upbringing and therefore felt entitled to whatever he wanted, but without a shred of humility Ami would never see him as anything other than a self-absorbed jerk. As she slipped dictionaries and thesauruses into their spaces she thought of a few choice adjectives for the boy, muttering them to her own ears.
She rounded a corner and gasped; Zach sat right in front of her! Ami froze and waited for him to turn around with that arrogant smirk on his face… but he didn't move. He must not have heard her. She exhaled and resumed her task, shooting glares at Zach all the while. He hunched over a touchscreen laptop, the stylus in his hand working furiously. Ami caught a glimpse of the monitor and what appeared to be a fashion sketch. She moved closer, intrigued by the growing amalgamation of lines.
She hated to admit that Zach was a good artist. He drew a typically elongated croquis but gave her a realistic expression, a fierce look indicative of the model's personality. The dress he sketched had a sweetheart neckline, cold shoulders, a corset belt, and ended mid-thigh. It was definitely something Mina would wear. He drew a pair of cage heels on the croquis' feet, tilted his head in consideration, and selected a color palette from a menu. A girl sitting across from Zach coughed and gave him a meaningful look, prompting him to spin in his chair as Ami retreated. He simply presented the sketch to her. "What do you think? Is it worthy of Paris?"
"I wouldn't know," she replied. Fashion wasn't really her forte much less haute couture. "Aren't you supposed to be a theatrical director, not a fashion designer?"
Zach shrugged. "I want to do it all– writing, casting, costume and set design. I don't want a bunch of people ruining my production." Ami just stood there, a little stunned by the fact that he hadn't yet contaminated their conversation with innuendo. "Do you want help with those?" He pointed at the cart and smiled kindly, though it still resembled a smirk, and grabbed some books before she could articulate a response. "I know exactly where these go. Seven-ninety, performing arts."
Ami shook her head and resumed the task at hand. She replaced texts on painting, photography, architecture and music, then pushed on to history. Zach jogged to catch up and reached for another stack of books, but she stepped in his way. "What are you doing?" she demanded.
He blinked in surprise. "I thought I was helping you."
"I didn't ask for it."
"I know, but you didn't answer when I asked."
Ami crossed her arms and glared. "You shouldn't presume silence to be a confirmation."
Neither gave an inch; Zach didn't put the textbooks down nor did Ami move aside. She didn't feel bad for confronting him since it was rational for her to be suspicious of his sudden change in demeanor. He couldn't make suggestive remarks every time he saw her and expect her to disregard them because he acted like a decent person. She'd seen Mina fall for that trick more than once.
Eventually, Zach sighed. "Fine, I'll get out of your hair."
'And stay out!' Ami wanted to say, holding her tongue. Zach surrendered the books, raised his hands in surrender, and walked backward out of the aisle as she lifted her chin in triumph. Once he disappeared she released an irritated breath. If she wasn't already certain that Zach was pursuing Mina, Ami would have asked her best friend if his change in tactic meant he was genuinely interested in her, not just a ploy to get in her pants.