The Safe Zone

Chapter 1: Evie

If I ever had to write a survival guide for navigating your early twenties, Rule Number One would be printed in bold, blood-red ink: Never, under any circumstances, Craigslist a roommate.

I shoved a tangle of mismatched charging cords into my duffel bag, zipping it shut with a harsh, satisfying screech. I was sweating, a stray lock of dark, wavy hair sticking to my forehead, but I couldn't care less. I just needed to get the hell out of here.

For the past six months, I'd been living in a cramped, two-bedroom apartment with Greg—a guy who, on paper, was a quiet graphic designer. In reality, Greg was a certified creep. He didn't understand the concept of wearing pants in common areas, "accidentally" walked in on me while I was showering at least three times, and possessed a gaze so heavy and lingering it made me feel like I needed to scrub my skin with steel wool.

The final straw happened last night. I caught him lingering outside my bedroom door in the pitch-dark, breathing heavily, holding a cup of water he clearly didn't intend to drink. When I confronted him, he just gave me this slow, oily smile and muttered something about how I "shouldn't lock my door, just in case of emergencies."

Yeah. No. Bye.

I grabbed my two largest suitcases, took a deep breath, and looked around the room that had been mine since I graduated college four months ago. It wasn't much to look at. A low-paying, soul-crushing administrative assistant job at a local logistics firm didn't exactly leave room for a luxury high-rise. I made just enough to cover rent, cheap groceries, and my mounting student loans. Buying my own place—even a studio apartment—was a laughable fantasy.

Which brought the heavy knot of guilt sitting squarely in my stomach right back to the surface.

I was moving in with Maya, my best friend since middle school. She had opened her apartment doors without a single second of hesitation the moment I called her crying last night. But Maya didn't live alone. She lived with her boyfriend, Liam. And even though Liam was a sweetheart who had already texted me saying "bring whatever you want, bro, we're making tacos," I felt like a giant, intrusive parasite. I was invading their love nest because I couldn't afford my own life.

Dragging my bags down the narrow stairwell of my old building, I loaded up my beaten-down Honda Civic. When I finally climbed into the driver's seat, I caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror and winced.

Jesus, Evie. You look like a ghost.

My pale skin looked completely washed out under the grey afternoon sky, and the dark circles under my eyes made me look like I hadn't slept in weeks—which, to be fair, I hadn't. I have these massive, downturned hazel eyes that my mother always calls "striking," but I just think they make me look perpetually sad. I pulled at the collar of my oversized grey sweatshirt, suddenly acutely aware of how the fabric clung to my shoulders.

I hated looking in mirrors. It was a habit I'd perfected in high school, courtesy of a guy named Marcus and his group of popular, cruel friends. I'd been a bit softer then, a late bloomer, and Marcus had made it his personal mission to point out every single flaw I had. "Hey look, it's Evie, hiding the buffet under that sweater," they'd laugh in the hallways. "Watch out, don't sit next to her, she might crush the chair."

Ten years later, and those voices still lived rent-free in the back of my mind. I'd lost the baby fat, and my body had shifted into curves that made men like Greg stare a little too long, but when I looked in the mirror, I didn't see a pretty girl. I just saw the awkward, oversized teenager who didn't fit in anywhere.

I shook my head, putting the car in drive. "Stop it," I muttered to myself. "You're twenty-two. Move on."

Thirty minutes later, I was pulling up to Maya's apartment complex. It was significantly nicer than my old place, nestled on a quiet, tree-lined street. Before I could even turn off the engine, the front door of the building burst open, and Maya came jogging out, her bright blonde curls bouncing.