"Now arriving at Maricopa Station." The train's automated announcement jolted Isabella awake from what felt like her first peaceful slumber in years. Even in a modest train-provided bed, she'd slept better than she ever had back at the house that suffocated her dreams.
As she stepped off the train, a wave of warm Arizona air greeted her. It carried a hint of sunbaked earth and the faint sweetness of citrus. She paused on the platform, her bags at her feet, and took a deep breath. The air was light and dry, a welcome contrast to the stifling weight of her past. For the first time in years, she felt like she could finally exhale.
Isabella squared her shoulders. "First things first, I need a place to stay," she muttered. She'd planned meticulously for this escape, but leaving her phone behind in her haste meant she'd have to rework a few details. With a sigh, she flagged down a cab and directed the driver to the nearest phone store.
---
With a new phone and number in hand, Isabella felt a thrill of liberation. Cutting all ties had been more satisfying than she imagined. She downloaded her favorite playlist, her heart lifting as Tyler, The Creator's "See You Again" filled her ears.
"You live in my dreeeam state, Relocate my fantaasssyyy..." she hummed under her breath, the melody syncing with the steady beat of her steps.
Her stomach growled, interrupting her reverie. "Food first, apartment hunting later," she decided, directing the cab driver to a bustling area nearby.
---
The outdoor mall was alive with energy, a vibrant mix of colors, voices, and aromas. Groups of people strolled between shops and eateries, their laughter mingling with the hum of conversation. Isabella's eyes darted around, taking in the sheer diversity of the crowd. She couldn't help but smile.
She wandered until the scent of sizzling burgers drew her to a small restaurant with a decent line. She joined the queue, her eyes still scanning the scene. A tall, broad figure stepped into line behind her, and she caught the faint scent of cedarwood and sage. Curiosity got the better of her, and she glanced over her shoulder.
Her gaze traveled upward, tracing the contours of a solidly built man. His tan skin seemed to glow under the Arizona sun, and a tribal tattoo peeked from under the sleeve of his fitted shirt, winding up his arm and disappearing into his collar. When her eyes finally reached his face, she froze. Emerald green eyes locked onto hers, and his full lips quirked into an amused smirk.
Embarrassed at being caught staring, Isabella quickly turned away, her cheeks burning. She tried to focus on the menu ahead, but her mind lingered on the Adonis behind her.
When it was her turn to order, she stepped forward, only to feel the same shadow envelop her. Before she could turn to comment, she felt warm hands rest lightly on her waist. She froze. The man bent down, his lips grazing the shell of her ear as he spoke.
"My name is Ash, by the way," he murmured, his voice rich and husky.
A shiver ran down her spine, and she cursed her body's reaction. Ash chuckled softly, as though he could sense her unease, and let go.
When Isabella finally turned, she found him back in line, his piercing gaze fixed on her. She hurried away with her food, her heart pounding. From a distance, she could hear his voice.
"Who was that?" an unfamiliar voice asked.
"No idea," Ashton replied, his eyes narrowing slightly as a small, amused smile played on his lips. "But I'm definitely going to find out."
---
Isabella found a quiet bench in a shaded corner of the mall. As she ate, she scrolled through apartment listings. Most were out of her budget, but one ad caught her eye. A four-bedroom house with private baths, a pool, a gym, and a theater—all for $880 a month. Her brows furrowed in suspicion.
"There's no way," she whispered. But the photos were stunning, and the price was tempting. She flagged down another cab and showed the address to the driver.
---
Isabella adjusted the strap of her bag, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the edges of her phone as she stared out the cab window. The town was new, unfamiliar, yet it held the promise of a fresh start. The cab driver, a middle-aged woman with dark curls and a warm but knowing smile, glanced at Isabella through the rearview mirror.
"So, you're moving here?" the driver asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.
Isabella nodded, offering a small smile. "Yeah. Just found this listing online. It seems like a nice place to start over."
The driver chuckled, shaking her head slightly. "You're in for a surprise then, sweetheart. That house you're going to? People have been lining up down the street trying to get that fourth roommate spot."
Isabella's stomach tightened. "What?"
"Mhm. It's apparently one of the most sought-after places in town," the driver said with an amused smirk. "But no one has made it yet."
A nervous laugh escaped Isabella as she shifted in her seat. "Well, that's... comforting. I thought I'd be the first to show up."
The driver gave her a knowing look. "You might be the first to make it through the front door. But trust me, they've probably turned away a dozen before you."
Isabella exhaled, pressing her fingers against her temple. She had left home to escape pressure, not walk straight into another impossible competition.
"You're worried now, aren't you?" the driver teased, pulling onto a quiet, upscale street lined with trees. "Don't let it shake you too much. You never know, you might be exactly what they're looking for."
As they pulled up to the house, Isabella swallowed hard. It was stunning—modern yet warm, with tall windows and a beautifully maintained front yard. It didn't help the knot forming in her stomach.
The cab driver turned slightly, giving her a reassuring nod. "Tell you what, I'll wait here for a few minutes. Just in case they send you back out."
Isabella shot her an appreciative glance, inhaling deeply before reaching for the door handle. "Thanks. Hopefully, I won't need the ride back."
She stepped out of the cab, adjusting her bag one last time as she walked up to the front door. The house was nestled in a quiet neighborhood, its modern exterior sleek and inviting. Her eyes drawn to the vintage blue BMW and the ruby red Dodge SRT parked in the driveway.
She rang the doorbell, her stomach fluttering with nerves and excitement. The door opened to reveal a slender, dark-haired man with tattoos covering his arms and neck. He was dressed casually, but his presence radiated authority.
"Hi, I'm Isabella," she said, her voice steady. "I'm here about the room."
The man studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable, before stepping aside to let her in. She offered a polite smile and stepped into the house.
The interior was immaculate, a blend of black-and-white tones with sleek, modern furnishings. The kitchen gleamed, its counters spotless. Isabella wandered through the house, marveling at the gym and theater in the basement. Upstairs, Isabella noticed the names on the bedroom doors. The first read Hudson, written in bold, sharp letters. The second door featured an intricate sketch of a camera. The last closed door was marked Ashley, the name scrawled in elegant, flowing script. She paused, raising an eyebrow.
"Ashley?" she whispered to herself. "So there's another girl here?" She couldn't help but feel a flicker of relief at the thought of having another female roommate.
Her own door was the only one left unmarked. It was spacious, with an enormous window bathing the room in sunlight. It reminded her of her greenhouse back home. Isabella dropped her bags on the bed and smiled. This room was hers to make her own.
Back in the living room, the man—Hudson, she guessed—stood watching her. This time, he was dressed in just a towel, his damp hair falling into his eyes. Isabella's breath caught as she stumbled, and Hudson caught her effortlessly, his hands firm and steady on her lower back.
"Rent's due on the 6th," he said, his hazel eyes locking onto hers. "Your keys are on the top shelf of the closet."
Isabella straightened, her face flushed. Hudson released her and headed upstairs without another word. She exhaled, her heart racing.
Isabella leaned against the door, her breath catching as she replayed the moment. Hudson's hands on her waist, steady and firm. The damp strands of his hair falling into his eyes, the towel barely clinging to his hips. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the heat in her cheeks to fade.
"What kind of man opens the door like that? And why does he smell like cedar and rain?" she thought, shaking her head. She barely knew him, yet here she was, heart racing and thoughts spiraling.
"Get it together, Isabella," she muttered, pushing herself off the door. "You just moved in, and he's already in your head."
In her new room, she wrote her name on the door and took a deep breath. This was her fresh start. A new city. A new home. And maybe, just maybe, a new version of herself.