We couldn’t shoot for a penthouse, but anything would’ve been a step up from the car. We had to look for something cheap. Incredibly cheap.

“Why did you do it? Why did you leave with me? You could’ve had anyone, but you picked an asshole bully,” I said.

“Because you were desperate,” Nick answered as we climbed the outdoor steps.

“Wow,” I said, sarcastically shocked.

“We’re both desperate. I know I was. Living with my grandma, I was by myself. And you were...” he stumbled as we reached the top of our climb.

We were on the third floor of an apartment complex, waiting for a realtor to let us into one of the units. It was the cheapest we’d found so far—and the biggest—because someone had died in it a year ago. Given that it was an elderly community, chances were plenty of people had died there.

“I was what?” I asked.

“You wanted someone to listen. And I wanted someone to talk to,” he said.

While we stood at the guard rail watching clouds move, I wrapped my arms around Nick’s body and rested my head on his shoulder. I could feel him breathing. That familiar scent he always carried was dense in his hair that day. It was soothing.

“So it wasn’t my good looks?” I joked.

“I think I fell in love with you the first time I saw you cry,” he said.

“I never cry.”

“You cry cutting onions. Watching The Sandlot. When we have sex,” he teased.

“Shut up,” I laughed in his ear, digging my nose into his hair.

The realtor took forever to show up, but I didn’t mind.

“You know, we’ve been in this town for almost a year, and I still get scared. Not of people seeing us—I think I’m over that. But you’re right. I am desperate. That’s why I can’t fuck this up,” I said.

“You won’t,” Nick said confidently.

“You don’t know that.”

“If you fuck up, I’ll give you a pass,” he offered.

“A pass?”

I let him go so he could turn around.

“Whatever it is, no matter how bad. I’ll forgive you,” he said, leaning in to kiss me.

Like always, he stopped short of our lips connecting, and I had to close the space.

Of course, when we started to make out, the realtor showed up. I heard her heels clanging on the metal steps before Nick and I turned to watch her climb. She was older, and I almost felt bad she had to walk up so many stairs.

When she finally let us into the apartment, I half expected it to be covered in blood. But it was normal.

Maybe not normal, but it wasn’t a murder scene.

The walls were painted a striking shade of red—like lipstick or rage. The carpeted floors were as dark brown as mud, with stains that looked like they’d been there too long. The kitchen was... decent. Nick and I didn’t have a clear idea of what to look for, but we noticed things here and there. Nothing too worrisome. Nothing we couldn’t handle.

“I can’t wait for you to go back to being goofy,” I said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nick asked as we stepped into the main bedroom.

“Ever since we made it to Seattle, you’ve been different. You’ve been responsible and mature and stuff,” I said.

“So have you, Tom.”

I agreed—quietly.

“But you were different in high school. I can’t remember the last time we smoked, the last time you did anything that wasn’t for us. Hell, you haven’t made me want to punch you in months. I miss having you teach me nerd shit I didn’t know I wanted to know,” I whispered, careful not to let the realtor hear.

“It’s how things have to be. We can’t be stupid kids if we want things to work,” Nick said.

Neither of us was old enough to drink yet, but he was right. We couldn’t be stupid kids.

Still, I had to say, “When we get this place, I want to do stuff we used to. We didn’t move here just to be boring nobodies, did we? This has to be the first part of the dream—so you can get back to being a nerd, and I can get back to being a badass.”

“You mean back to being a meathead?”

“I’m for real, Nick.”

“I am too. But for what it’s worth, you’re always a badass. You don’t have to try so hard.”

But I did. If I let up—if I gave anything less than my all—we’d both go under. I knew we would.

“I’m not convinced about this place,” Nick said as we returned to the living room.

The realtor was clearly waiting for us, standing in the middle of the floor with her hands on her hips.

“You said this was the only place we could afford by ourselves, right?” I asked her.

“Yes. Due to the long vacancy, the owner is willing to significantly reduce rent and amenity prices if you’re willing to handle repairs yourselves,” she said.

“Tom,” Nick said, grabbing my shoulder and turning me back to him.

“So we’ll have to fix it up. We can do that,” I said.

“This is a lot to fix up.”

And he wasn’t wrong. There was a smell—something sour and old. The pipes groaned when we ran the sink. The stains on the carpet were hard to ignore. I couldn’t begin to guess what caused them. Still, nothing seemed so bad we couldn’t handle it.

Funnily enough, I doubted the cost of repairs worried Nick. Sometimes, he could be lazy when it came to getting his hands dirty. I cleaned his grandma’s pool in high school for a reason. It made sense that my boyfriend didn’t want a place that came with a lot of work.

“There’s a spare room. The laundry room on the first floor is available to the community. And there’s a new frozen yogurt shop just down the street,” the realtor added, listing things we’d already seen or didn’t care about.

Her behavior almost made me not care about never knowing her name.

“How long is the lease?” Nick asked.

“Three years,” she said.

“Three years?!” Nick and I said together.

I hadn’t realized it was that long of a commitment.

We looked around a little longer before I pulled Nick aside and said, “Take off your shoes.”

I didn’t have to explain the request, despite his laughter. As he kicked off his shoes and socks, I jumped onto the kitchen counter to sit. The realtor let us feel things out, but with her old face, we could see how uncomfortable she was.

“If this is our place, we have to paint the walls,” Nick said, joining me on the counter.

“Why?”

“It’s too red.”

“Isn’t red romantic?”

“It’s making me angry.”

“Angry with a deep burning love,” I joked.

By then, we were egging the realtor on, so I asked, “Anything else we need to know?”

“No pets, no drugs, no parties. The other residents are elderly, so—”

“Old people. Got it. We’ll take it,” I said, completely forgetting there was paperwork and a long list of other steps we had to finish before we could actually move in. But we eventually moved in.