Things could have been better for Dylan Kellogg.
Sure, there were some things that could have been worse. He lived in sunny southern California, in La Jolla, just north of San Diego. He had a full time job that was mostly remote, which covered the $900 a month apartment he had been lucky enough to win through the housing lottery. And the terrible roommate that he had been stuck with for the past year had finally moved out.
Unfortunately for Dylan, there were also some things that had not been going his way. Southern California was in the middle of the sweltering heat wave thanks to climate change. His apartment, while affordable, was older and did not have great air conditioning. And while his previous roommate was now gone, the landlord was eager to fill the vacancy and had already informed him that a new one had been chosen and was on their way.
Dylan's landlord was an old classmate from high school who had inherited his father's real estate business. While their parents got along fairly well, Mason Cox was anything but friendly to him during their time at school. The classic jock bully, Mason had picked on Dylan in all the usual ways while appearing outwardly pleasant to the parental figures in their lives. Mason's father was actually responsible for getting Dylan his current apartment, but had passed away a few years prior, leaving the family business to the one person who delighted in making his life miserable.
As part of the agreement with the housing commission, Dylan couldn't be removed from his home as long as he met the requirements and truth be told, he actually liked where he lived and had no intention of leaving. Although it was older, all the appliances had been replaced and updated and the location was very close to the oceanfront and got a lot of natural light and air.
Mason kept trying to find ways to get him to leave, however. The roommate from hell had been the latest attempt to get him to vacate. A beefy, muscle bound military gymbro was the antithesis of who Dylan was, so being made to share space with one for the past year had pushed him to his limits, which is exactly what Mason had wanted. However, despite the near constant harassment and invasions of personal space, he had managed to survive the year with his sanity and most of his property intact, and the military dickhead had been recalled to active duty.
Two weeks had gone by and Dylan was almost getting used to having the apartment to himself, which made the news that Mason had found a replacement quite the bitter pill to swallow. It was a little odd that one had been found without a visit by the new tenant, but Mason had always been the kind of person to shoot first, ask questions later.
"This place better be immaculate," Mason had said a few days prior, a self-satisfied grin on his face as he stood in the doorway of the apartment. "This new guy will be here in four days and I can't have you making a bad impression."
Dylan was a fairly clean person but having had to live with an inconsiderate roommate who had partied all the time and bullied him for being "soft" had made him weary. Mason had managed to catch him with the apartment in slight disarray thanks to some late work hours, though his landlord did not really need much of a reason to needle him. "Yeah, I know, I'm sorry, I'll have it ready."
"You better, Dillweed," Mason had goaded, using the childish schoolyard epithet he knew Dylan despised. "If you thought the last guy was a hardass, you ain't seen anything yet. Your new roommate just got out of the Army and probably eats losers like you for lunch. Not too late to just pack your shit up and leave, you know."
Dylan had grimaced and said that he would take his chances, which had Mason laughing all the way down the stairs to the exit of the building. Truth be told, Dylan knew how to handle himself, he had managed to live with a toxic Marine for a year, but he was still fairly nervous about what his new roommate would be like.
Rounding the corner, he shifted the grocery bags in his arms while trying not to drop everything on the ground as he walked back to his apartment. It was the day of his new roommate's arrival and he was on edge. He had gone to the store to grab some food and cleaning supplies, but had lost track of time and had to rush back home. Mason had not provided much detail about the new person aside from a name, but he had entrusted Dylan with the responsibility of handing off the keys, and Dylan could not do that without being at home.
"Ah shit," he swore as he kicked open the low gate that led into the small back courtyard of the three-story building which housed his apartment. The first floor was zoned for retail and held a laundromat and a fairly well-reviewed sushi restaurant, but the top two floors had been converted into apartment spaces. Each was entitled to one of the designated parking spots at the back of the building and Dylan could see that the one next to his was no longer vacant. A sleek black and red motorcycle sat at the top of the space, next to the concrete bumper. His former roommate had driven a smoke-belching lifted pickup truck so a motorcycle was already an improvement. Still, Dylan wondered how comfortable it must have been to ride across the country.
Pushing open the door to the staircase, he trudged up the three flights of stairs to the floor with his apartment. He was not in the worst shape, but he was certainly no athlete either and had to set down his groceries and take a few moments to catch his breath at the top of the stairs. His new roommate was nowhere to be found, but there was a note on the door. In very neat black capital letters it read, "DROPPING BIKE TRAILER OFF AT U-HAUL. BACK BY 1700."
"Dammit," Dylan swore to himself again as he pushed through the door. "Not making a good impression." Clearly his new roommate had already been to the apartment and had not been able to get in, so that was already a strike against him. He set the grocery bags down on the table and quickly got to work putting things away and straightening up the living area.
He had just finished rearranging the futon when he heard footsteps on the stairs outside the entrance. Sure enough, a few moments later a series of sharp knocks reverberated through the front door of the apartment. Smoothening his slightly sweaty shirt and walking over to the entrance, he sent one final silent prayer to the cosmos that his new roommate was not a total asshole and pulled open the door. "Hey, I'm so sorry about not being here when you got here but--" was all he managed to get out before he stopped dead in his tracks.
Dylan had been fully prepared for some buff, clean shaven musclehead in camo gear like his previous roommate. Instead, one of the most gorgeous women he had ever seen in his entire life stood before him. Long blonde hair done up in a ponytail and piercing blue eyes accentuated her delicate, expressive features, which currently held a slightly bemused look. She wore an Army green tank top, high jean cutoff shorts and black combat boots. "That's all right, it gave me some time to drop off the bike trailer," she responded before extending her hand towards him. "You're Dylan, I assume."
He reached out to grasp her hand, hoping his own was free from clamminess. Her handshake was surprisingly firm. "Yes, that's right, I'm Dylan. And you are? I think you might have the wrong address. I'm expecting a new roommate but he's a guy..."
The woman frowned. "Fairly sure I have the address right. Four-seven-two Coastal Lane, apartment three-oh-one?"
Now it was Dylan's turn to frown. "That's right but you're... not at all who I was expecting." He reached over to the side table next to the door to grab the set of keys Mason had left him to give to his new roommate. There was a tag attached to one of the rings with a name on it. "You're... Adrian Murphy?"
His incredulous look and confused tone elicited a laugh from her. "Yes, that's me, though no one calls me Adrian. You can call me Ria, it's a lot easier."
Something clicked in Dylan's brain. "And Mason told you that you'd be rooming here with me, a guy?"
Ria reached down to grab the large green rucksack at her feet and hefted it over her shoulder in one smooth motion. "Never actually spoke with the landlord, we've only corresponded through emails," she admitted while favoring him with a curious look. "Is that going to be an issue?"
Suddenly Dylan wished he'd given the apartment a much more thorough cleaning. "N-no, I don't think it will be. Please, come in, sorry for keeping you out." He moved aside to let her step through the doorway.
"Glad to hear it," she said brightly, striding into the apartment while pulling a large metal footlocker behind her. She hauled it to the middle of the small common living area with practiced ease and set it next to the couch. "This is cozy."
Dylan found himself mesmerized by her movements before jolting himself back into the present to reply to her comment. "Yeah it's not a bad place, all things considered."
