When we’d rented the little cottage in the woods together all those years ago, the facade had been peeling paint and patchily shingled roof, a little front porch that creaked so hard we’d joke it was always moments away from falling off. 

It had fallen off all right, but only to make way for a gorgeous wrap-around replacement, complete with a plushly pillowed porch swing. And the exterior changes didn’t stop there– the walls were now a cheerful blue with bright white trim, while the afternoon sun glinted off a roof covered in sleek solar panels. 

“Oh my god, you nested so hard!” I exclaimed, hopping out of the car. Gravel, just as I remembered, crunched reassuring underfoot. “I know you showed me paint samples and shit, but it just does not compare to seeing the final effect. Rose!”

“The old gal just needed a little TLC,” Rose said with feigned modesty. I didn’t bother to hide my snort. 

“Oh yeah, sure. Just some itty bitty solar panels, no big deal.”

The exterior should have prepared me for change, but walking inside Rose’s house was like stepping into a brand new world. The closed-off living room was gone, walls opened up to the kitchen making the whole place feel so much larger (even with a fucking gorgeous leather sectional taking up most of the room). The old yellowing wallpaper was gone, and I was pretty sure the windows had all gotten bigger– and probably energy efficient, if I knew my friend at all. The bathroom had updated fixtures and tiles, and I didn’t even have to walk into the kitchen to see it was like something out of a magazine– shiny and modern and optimized to store probably every cooking appliance in existence. My little engi-nerd loved her gadgets.

I finally stopped being surprised by the time I peeked out the sliding glass door to find the back deck sanded and stained, cheerfully appointed with green and white striped patio furniture. 

“OK, I can’t even with this place,” I said, throwing my hands in the air even as I flopped down on the sectional. It gave under me like butter and I could’ve maybe cried a little. As a seasoned couch surfer, my body could recognize perfection. 

Rose ran her hand fondly over a windowsill, confirming my suspicion that she likely installed the damn thing herself. Every inch of the place felt so incredibly her. 

“I can't fucking wait to see what you did to my room,” I said with a smile. Chagrin washed over her face, which I had not expected. 

“Well, about that… I may have turned it into a walk-in closet?” she admitted. “Because, well, I moved the wall over a little to expand the upstairs bathroom. Had to make room for the tub…” 

I wasn’t sure if I should be upset at the loss of my own room, or racing up the stairs to try out whatever bathtub could be so ornate as to put a blush on my friend’s cheeks. Since I was going to be living here rent free, and the couch caliber truly was high, I figured I’d go with the latter. I hopped up and made for the stairs, but a tug on my arm pulled me back. 

“But hey, that doesn’t mean I don’t have a room for you. Come on.” 

When we’d lived here together, the small room off the kitchen had probably been meant for formal dining– we’d almost exclusively used it as the rec space for drinking games. Homeowner Rose had converted it to an office, with a rich wooden desk and shelves built into one wall, a sumptuous olive couch along the other. A moody floral wallpaper ran from floor to ceiling, which might’ve made the whole space feel dark and small but for the massive bay window, complete with upholdered seat. That was definitely new, and one hundred percent Rose. The cushions were even a little worn, indicating that my friend was giving up her favorite reading perch so I could have a space of my own. 

My heart swelled a little as I tuned into her tour. 

“The couch pulls out, and I promise it’s actually really comfortable,” she said, patting one of the cushions. Even if it hadn’t converted to a bed, it looked to be of the same quality as the living room. “You have a closet here and I know it’s small, but you can put stuff in mine too, and obviously use my bathroom for the shower and stuff.”

“You say that as if I'm not already plotting to live in your bathtub.”

“I keep the bath bombs and bubbles under the sink,” she replied with a bright smile. Bright, until it twisted with uncertainty. “So… is this OK? Think you’ll manage here?”

My instinct was to snort in derision at such a concern, but I held it back. Rose knew, better than anyone, why I had resisted coming back here for so long. How much this town represented loss and pain and fear for me. 

But it also represented Rose, and how she’d given an old place new life. Maybe I could do that too, at least for as long as I was here. For her sake, I was willing to try. 

“I think we should throw my shit in the corner to deal with later, and go properly christen this Roomies Reunited thing we’ve got going,” I informed her with mock solemnity. Her nerves melted away. 

“I know just the thing!” she said, almost vibrating with excitement. 

Maybe I hadn’t wanted to get stuck in a small town again, but at least I knew that with Rose around, I’d never be bored.