A grin lingered on my lips from Oliver's teasing, as I kept walking toward the bus stop, happy to not be walking alone. "You didn't have to accompany me, you know." I appreciated his attention, but I didn't want him to feel forced to do this every day.
"And miss our daily existential conversation? Never, Miss Walker!"
I smiled, touched. "What is your surname, by the way?"
"Twist."
"Haha, good one," I answered without missing a beat. I was not falling for it.
"What?"
"Your name most certainly isn't Oliver Twist."
"Is there something I should know about my name?"
I stopped in my tracks, looking at him. He sure was convincing, his expression one of pure confusion and innocence. For about half a second, I almost believed him, but his resolve finally wavered, and a smile pulled up the corners of his pink lips.
"You're an idiot," I declared, resuming my walk.
"I almost had you."
"You didn't."
"I did."
"Maybe for a hundredth of a second."
"Still counts."
We walked in silence for a moment, while I tried to hold back my smile. There was something truly enticing about Oli, a comfortableness I appreciated greatly. Since we were surrounded by hundreds of people also returning home, we would sometimes be separated, but he always came back near me.
"Queen," he then said out of the blue.
"What?"
"My name is Queen."
Oliver Queen? That one sounded very familiar too. Not trusting him after his initial joke, I racked my brain to find where I knew it from, searching for the trap. Oliver Queen, the Green Arrow.
"You numbnuts!" I protested, gently hitting his arm with my fist.
"Ouch! Gentle there, Rocky." He rubbed the spot I had punched, visibly happy with his joke.
"Tell me your name, Oli. It's a question of honor now."
"May I offer an 'Oliver Branch' to appease your bruised ego?" he proposed. I tried to suppress my smile but failed. "Or maybe I could invite you to 'Oliver Garden'?"
"You are the worst." My massive grin wasn't fading, and it was clear he was, indeed, not the worst.
"I would say I can go all night, but I'm already out of ideas," he responded, visibly annoyed.
"You could have said Spirit."
He thought about it for an instant and smiled. "Oli Spirit. Nice one! That opens so many possibilities. Wood, Cow, Molly, Grail..."
I side glanced at him, amused by his enthusiasm, and when I looked up front again, I saw we were reaching the crossing where we would part. I felt a twinge of regret, knowing that we'd have to separate soon.
"In the meantime, I still don't know your name," I argued, hoping that I would hear it before we reached the station.
"I am having way too much fun to just tell you now. You know what, give me your number, and I will send you a letter every hour, sleeping hours excluded," he proposed.
Oh, he was as smooth as the operator! Since we were working together, he would get my phone number eventually, so I didn't see the need to protest. I nodded and clearly saw his shoulders relax a little as if he'd been anxiously expecting a rejection. I told him the digits as he typed them in his phone, a victorious smile on his face. We reached the fateful spot and separated with a hand wave. Once a few meters away from me, he did a double finger-gun, and the corniness of the gesture made me giggle softly. Although, I was glad to see I wasn't the only one still sporting it. He then swiftly spun around and shook his head disapprovingly, scolding himself for the gesture.
I remained right there to watch him cross the road until I remembered that I was on a tight schedule. My headphones were quickly slipped on and I walked to my bus stop. Oli was standing by his, and he lifted his eyes as I arrived. He was holding his phone in front of him and pointed toward it. At the same time, mine buzzed and took it out of my back pocket. He'd sent me a message.
Another one of those unshakable grins bent my mouth when I read its content. It was an image of the puppet from Saw, with a text that said "Let's play a game." I received another message, this time it said: "Get ready for a long, long wait. My name's from Eastern Europe, and it has, like, 25 letters in it."
"Aren't you of Irish descent?"
"Dammit, I've been made!"
"Get on with it, Edward Nigma. What's the first letter?"
"Nice reference! So, the first one is right after James Bond's boss," he answered, and I understood that I would have to guess each and every letter. This one was easy.
"N!" I replied within two seconds.
"Well done! Talk to you in an hour, Andrea Walker."
My bus arrived before I could answer, so I got on reluctantly. Our gazes locked as I stood against a window, and we waved at each other one last time. There wasn't enough room for me to keep our conversation alive, but as soon as I reached the surface again, I took out my phone.
"Nolan? Neeson? Neville? Nelson?"
"Tut-tut! That's not the game! You have to wait for the letters, you cheater."
I put my phone away, half-frustrated and half-impressed by his resolve. When I reached my building, I was still smiling. Sure enough, Mrs. Godfrey was waiting for me in the hallway.
"You're late," she coldly told me.
The time on my phone indicated I was three minutes late, and I bit my tongue, held back the urge to roll my eyes, and went to her. Without another word, she invited me to a small office she had on the ground floor and made me sit in front of the desk. After she'd shuffled inside a drawer, she took out some papers and handed them to me, before showing me where I had to sign. I didn't trust her enough to sign them blindly, so I went through it rapidly. It must have been some divine assistance because I was fucking glad I did. The amount indicated wasn't right. It was almost twice the price that we had agreed upon.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Godfrey, there seems to be a problem here," I kindly said, pointing at the wrong number. "We agreed on seven hundred," I reminded her.
"Miss Walker, Ballard is one of Seattle's trendiest neighborhoods. I have to adapt to the market."
Understanding it wasn't a mistake, but she was trying to scam me instead, a burst of anger rose inside of me. But I did my best to quench it. "I'm pretty sure it didn't become this trendy between a week ago, when we agreed on the price, and now, Mrs. Godfrey."
I hadn't sounded aggressive, but she recoiled in her chair. "Listen to me, young lady. I can rent that apartment for the price I'm asking you with a snap of my fingers. If you decide to act like an unappreciative millennial, I don't see why I should bother with you."
I let out an incredulous laugh. Who the hell would rent that horrible apartment for twelve hundred dollars? She was being ridiculous! Seeing how confident she was, the truth of what was happening dawned on me. It wasn't the first time she was doing this. She waited for people to be comfortably installed in their apartment before changing the prices, pressuring her tenants to accept her ridiculous scam. She even probably added a margin for bargaining, and I might get the price down to a thousand, which was still significantly higher than what I was willing to pay.
Unluckily for her, I still hadn't unpacked my things, so I had no problem walking out on her. Either she went back to the agreed price, or I would leave, having only paid my first week here.
"Listen up, you godless woman," I angrily said. "We agreed on seven hundred, and I won't pay one dime over that price. Let's be honest, I've seen roach motels more enticing than that horrendous apartment. If you insist on that ridiculous sum, I will leave, without giving you another cent, until you find someone stupid enough to fall for your little scam. This is way too much for an apartment which, by the way, is in violation of several safety standards. Who the hell puts an electric plug so close to the showerhead?"
Once done with my little tirade, I realized she wasn't intimidated, but rather furious. Uh-oh. For the second time today, I'd poked a bear.
I was bracing myself to face her elderly wrath, but she calmed down all by herself and moved forward to snatch the papers from my hands. "I want you out by Saturday morning," she stated before going for the door and opening it, inviting me to come out.
For a second, I considered going back on what I'd said and agreeing to her price. The perspective of having to find a new place by the end of the week was frankly worrying. But I had my pride, and there was no way I'd let the harpy win. Stunned, I pushed myself up, grabbed my bag, and went out, wondering how I could have been so stupid. She slammed the door behind me, sending a shiver of dread up my spine. Reluctantly, I dragged myself up the staircase.
When I reached my door, I opened it and kicked it behind me. I dropped my things in the middle of the room and dramatically fell, face first, on my couch. Stupid, stupid Andy...
Four days into my new life, and I was already homeless.
My phone buzzed and I welcomed the distraction. A smile shyly made its way on my face when I saw it was from Oliver. Had it been an hour already? I opened the message and read it. "I wasn't very inspired, so you get a letter! So, you get a letter! And you get a letter! Everybody gets a letter!" I stared at my screen, a little confused, waiting for the letters to come, but nothing happened. Then I understood what he meant. That was a grand Oprah moment, so he probably meant Oprah. The next letter then was 'O'.
"Norbert? Nowomannocry? Norton?"
"What did we say about guessing?" quickly came his answer.
"I need you to cheer me up, I'm getting evicted on Saturday."
"What?! What happened?"
"The owner of my apartment is a greedy asshole who wanted to double the price of the rent."
"Do you want me to come and beat the shit out of him?"
I let out a soft laugh. "She is at least sixty years old."
"I don't see a problem, old people are just like us, they deserve the same treatment as anyone. And since I'm a feminist, I feel the same about women."
"How progressive of you. But don't worry about it. Your full surname would suffice."
"That's not the game, stop trying to earn my compassion. I am merciless."
I let my phone down, once more amused and bothered that I couldn't get it out of him, when I received another notification.
"I will, however, cheer you up. When Brian first started, we installed a hidden software that latches onto his Counter-Strike and delays the game by about half a second. That's why he is so slow and loses constantly."
What didn't feel possible five minutes ago happened, and I let out a loud laugh, imagining how the guys kept making fun of his awful skill, knowing perfectly well that they were the reason behind it.
Cheered up all right, I spent part of the evening chatting with Oliver, while I also spoke to Kate about my upcoming eviction. They both did their best to make me feel better, and when I went to bed, I was reassured, trusting that everything would be fine.
By the time I fell asleep, I had gotten three more letters from Oliver. So far, I had N.O.P.A.L, and it didn't make any sense. I, of course, wondered if he wasn't pulling my leg, but he swore he was sending me the legit letters. Tomorrow, my curiosity would be satisfied.
Lying in my bed, I browsed a few rental apps, looking for another apartment. Now that I was in town, I had a better idea of where to look for, and I hoped to find a place easily. There were a few matching my criteria, and I prepared the message I would send first thing in the morning. Past midnight, I eventually decided to sleep and realized that not a single time this evening had the thought of my boss emerged.
Good for me, I was already getting over the man.