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As I came back in for more things I’d left at the end of the stairs, she gave me a hug and a too-wet kiss on my cheek, sneakily trying to shove another little parcel of bills into my pocket. That I fended off successfully. “Mom! Dad already snuck me some money. I took it, see?”

I pulled out the little folded lump, and she eyed it before nodding once and pocketing hers. “We agreed we wouldn’t. Ugh.”

“He beat you to it.” I stuck my tongue out, and she swatted my shoulder, shooing me out of the house.

“Better get on the road.” She waved me off, and I dodged one last attempt at her pushing the extra money into my pocket and hopped into my car, throwing my last belongings onto the pile.

As I sat there fidgeting with my phone to get the GPS and my audiobook right, I looked up and watched as my parents stood on the porch, arms crossed, waving goodbye, sad expressions on their faces that appeared almost forced.

They’re totally having loud, gross sex everywhere the second I’m gone.

I bleached that from my mind as I waved back and put my car into reverse. When I gave my childhood home one last look, I didn’t miss my father’s hand resting lower on my mom’s back.

Yep.

As I rolled my windows up and turned the volume to that bare whisper one does when they’re listening to something filthy, I sank into a dirty little omegaverse novel. It was based in some fantasy world where the affable university nerd was some secret hottie omega when he cleaned up, living a dual life as a beta until the ambiguously hot shifter linebacker gets stuck with him in an earthquake shelter. Boing.

Chapter Three

Lex

I arrived at my apartment at the bare start of dusk, pink and purple kissing the sky as I rolled into my short driveway and stared at flaking blue paint and a shared porch.

I called the number I was supposed to, and the groundskeeper said he’d be right over. I was pleased to find out he lived a few houses down and jogged up, key in hand.

He was a chubby guy, middle-aged, bright-smiled, dark-haired but balding. The tracksuit he wore rode up in the back a little, showing me worn-out elastic and the precise location of where all his hair had gone for the winter.

“Alexei?” he asked, as if he weren’t just speaking to me on the phone. He offered a hand, and I shook it; his grip firm and jarring. “Roman! Here are your keys, as promised.”

I nodded at him in thanks as he opened the door for me and handed me the keys before walking me through the sterile space.

It had character in the way shittily split old houses did, lumpy walls, a few exposed beams, what I was certain was plywood that someone painted over like Sheetrock in spots, but it was air-conditioned, tidy, and didn’t smell of mold or the bleach they would have used to clean it.

I peeked into the bathroom at the mustard-tiled floor and the horrid pink toilet before inspecting for anything egregious, doing the same for the kitchen and bedroom. No water spots on the ceilings, no mold, no odd smells or leaks I could see.

I’d learned from my time in college and turned on the hot water, finding it satisfactory.

Lights worked. The couch had mismatched cushions as if it were the franken-amalgam of six Ikea couches long passed, but it didn’t creak under my weight. Needed rugs, though. Everything in the house echoed.

“The window in the bathroom is stuck, so that’s being worked on next week. I think it got painted shut. Dust clings to this floor, so you’ll have to get one of them bitchy little robot vacuum disks that go after your toes, or flat mop on the daily.” He glanced around, fingers tapping on his thumb as he tried to think, a characteristic gesture I recalled from somewhere. “Oh! When you flush, the pipes make some chugging noises—it’s been checked and double-checked, and it’d be like twelve grand to fix it, but it’s not harming anything… There’s a pipe somewhere to the old septic system that didn’t get capped closed enough or something. It’s a whole thing, but we have sewers here.”

I nodded as if that meant something, but glad to know the plumbing wouldn’t come alive and eat me or spew shit everywhere.

“Uhhh… Oh, your neighbor is gone six weeks at a time, back for four, off six again. I think they work the barges. I come check on the place every day or so at his request.” He spun around, glancing at the walls. “And feel free to hang stuff up. Some landlords care about holes, but honestly, if you put holes, paint covers it.”

“At least until I can afford a house of my own,” I muttered, which he laughed at, like I’d told a joke.

“Well, I think that’s it. The missus made lasagna for dinner. If you’d like to come over for a bite?”

He smiled at me, and I shook my head. “Nah, thanks. I’ve got dietary things. I appreciate the offer.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself. Call me if you need anything. Oh! I left a few of them magnets on the fridge with the local places that deliver cheap, so if you want a pie or something.”

Pizza sounded horrid, but I nodded in thanks and he saw himself out with a little dance. I thought I’d grow to like him a bit.

I turned in place and stared at the surrounding space, thinking about where I’d put things.

The only thing left was to bring my belongings in.