© 2015 Elle Casey, all rights reserved, worldwide.

No part of this ebook may be reproduced, uploaded to the Internet, or copied without author permission.

DEDICATION

For Tove Lo,

the artist whose song “Habits (Stay High)” inspired this story.

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Chapter One

MY FINGER HESITATES OVER THE buttons of my phone as Leah Carmichael’s contact information floats on my screen. I haven’t talked to her in over a year. Or has it been two already? I’m ashamed that I let so many of my friends slip away.

Everything I own is in the process of being packed up in boxes around me. Most of them have a big red X on them, signifying that they’ll be going to a storage unit I’ve rented. The remaining few will get stuffed into my car to start my adventure with me — the trip I’m taking to get back to basics, to find myself and figure out where I went wrong with my life… basically how I got to be thirty years old and completely clueless about what I want to be when I grow up. Turns out, being an art teacher isn’t it.

Not renewing my lease and giving notice a couple months ago seemed like a great way to kick-start this necessary process, but right now as my last days in this apartment loom large, and I realize I have exactly nowhere to go, I’m wondering if I didn’t just give myself a kick in the ass that I’m seriously going to regret.

I look up and catch my reflection in the mirror. My red hair could stand an intervention. The ends are split and way past my shoulders where I used to wear it all the time. Bangs, a bad idea at any age for me, are finally growing out to the point that I can see again and don’t have to flick my head to the side all the time to move them out of the way. Maybe when I finally land somewhere I’ll get a decent haircut and end my ponytail days forever. Some golden highlights could help perk my amber eyes. Right now this flat, dark copper color I was born with makes everything look muddy. My pale complexion isn’t helping any, that’s for sure. I need some sun. Some time outdoors, maybe. I should get back to nature or something.

I turn away from the mirror, sick of looking at myself and trying to find ways to look more interesting than I feel. The only thing I should be concentrating on now is my living situation, since I kind of boxed myself into a corner and haven’t found a way out yet.

It’s probably a good idea to avoid making any more big decisions concerning the rest of my life when under the influence of anything alcoholic. But in my own defense, that tequila I was drinking fifty-seven days ago went down really smooth. I hardly knew I was tipsy and then all of a sudden I was drunk and dropping sixty-day notice, lease-quitting letters in the post office’s mailbox and imagining my grand adventure, living the life of a newly single girl: painting, creating, being free of responsibilities and the pressure of a nine-to-five job… eat, pray, love and all that jazz.

I check my laptop again to see if anyone’s answered my emails asking for a place to stay, temporary gigs that might offer some privacy so I can work in peace. Unfortunately, my inbox is empty, save for the new message I’ve just received from a Russian girl named Tatiana looking for a good time. She has pictures, should I feel like opening the attachment. How did I get on
that
spam list, anyway? I don’t even know how to say hello in Russian.

Leah is my last real hope, the one remaining person who I can reasonably hope will say yes to my plea. We were close once, back in high school, both of us more the creative type than the hard-driving, business types that we were surrounded by. I just pray she doesn’t hate me because we lost touch so long ago and I did nothing to fix that until I needed a place to stay. I hate that I feel like a user right now. A user loser.

Hopefully her circumstances have changed a little since the last time I talked to her. If I remember the rumors correctly, she was living in a crappy little studio in a not-so-great part of New York City and she was barely scraping by. I have enough savings to pay rent for a while, but if she’s in the same bad shape as before, what I have won’t be enough to make living with her comfortable, and I need a relaxed atmosphere to create.

I press the call button on my phone, forcing my misgivings to calm down so I can focus on being contrite.
Please don’t hate me, please don’t hate me…

Her voicemail picks up on the first ring, her message just as perky as ever. “Hi, this is Leah! Please leave me a message and I’ll call you back. Unless you’re that jerk who mugged me, and in that case, I will not be calling you back and
no
you are not forgiven, so stop calling me. Bye!” The phone beeps and I’m supposed to leave a message, but I’m temporarily stunned by her greeting. She was mugged? I guess she’s still living in Manhattan … and probably not in a good area. Should I just hang up?
Ack
! I don’t know what to do! But I really need a place to stay…

“Uhhh … hey … Leah? It’s Sarah! Remember me? Sarah Booker? I’m that jerk of a friend who hasn’t called you in ages. It’s been like a year already. Maybe more than that. Ugh, I hate myself. Anyway, I have some news, so I hope you’ll call me back soon so we can talk about it.” I hesitate, wondering how much more I should say in the message. I figure I’d better say something or she might not call me back for a long time, and I’m kind of short on that time resource right now. “I have a favor to ask you. Talk to you soon, I hope.” I hang up before I can say anything that will scare her away.

Putting the phone down on my kitchen counter, I move into the living room to grab another empty moving box. I have more packing to do and a truck to fill up for the storage unit before I can take a break and eat dinner, so standing around looking at my email inbox and staring at my cell isn’t going to get my anywhere I need to be.

Listening to the radio, I pack the last few boxes, marking them with a red X as I sneak glances at my phone.
Ring, you bastard, ring!
It doesn’t listen to me; it just sits there, silently mocking me and my desperation. I grab another empty box, and another after that, and another…

A half hour later, after I’ve packed every last thing I have left to my name, my phone finally rings. I practically trip over my own feet to grab it. Leah’s name is on the screen, thank God. I take a couple deep breaths, trying to calm myself down so I can sound natural and not desperate.
I can do this. I can find a place to live two days before I need it.

“Hello?” I hope like hell that the response on the other end isn’t going to be cold.

“Sarah? Is it really you?”

“Yep, it’s me all right. How are you?”

“Oh my god!! I’m so excited!! You called me at the perfect time!!”

A smile takes over my face. I never imagined such a warm welcome. “Really? Well, that’s awesome. Why, what’s going on?”

“Oh, my
god
, you have no idea. My life is totally crazy right now. But you said you needed a favor? What’s up? Are you okay? Is everything all right?”

Her obvious concern and warm tone has me nearly in tears. I’d been so strong until now. “I’m fine, I’m great. Well, okay, not great, but I’m good. Really good.” My voice starts going up higher and higher, and I can’t seem to stop it. “I just called because it’s been such a long time, and I’m moving out of my apartment, and I’m just … kind of being a free spirit right now and I was wondering if you have the space for a visitor maybe?” I cringe as I wait for her reaction. She’s going to hang up the phone, I know she is.

“Oh my god, that would be awesome!! You can come visit me? Oh, that’s the best news I’ve heard all day. When? When can you come? Are you leaving today? Where are you right now, anyway, are you still in Massachusetts?”

“Yes, outside of Boston, actually. I can be there in a couple days.”

“Fabulous. Perfect. Can’t wait. I have so much to tell you.”

I don’t want to get too excited over this call. It could still fall apart. “Are you sure you have room? I thought you had a little studio.”

“Oh, I have room, don’t you worry about that.”

Her laugh makes me wary. “So how have you been? What’s new in your life?”

“So many things. But how about we save all that for when you get here? It’ll be fun to catch up as you settle in.”

I shrug. It’s not like I have any other options. “Okay, if you say you have room, I guess I’ll come.”

The sound of her clapping comes over the line. “Yay! I’m so happy! Can’t wait to see you.”

“I guess I’ll need your address,” I say, grabbing a pen.

“Okay, are you ready? Do you have a pen?”

“Yep,” I say, resting the phone between my cheek and shoulder. “Go for it.”

“I’m at seven-twenty-five Fifth Avenue.”

The pen stops moving after I get the number down, and it refuses to continue writing.

“Fifth Avenue? As in
the
Fifth Avenue? Manhattan?”

She giggles. “That’s the one. I’m on the thirty-fifth floor. Just tell the doorman when you get here, and he’ll buzz me to let me know you’re in the lobby.”

I’m too stunned to really absorb this information. “You live on Fifth Avenue. I can’t believe it. You must have a
lot
of news to share.” The image of my silly, hippy friend Leah Carmichael living anywhere near Fifth Avenue won’t compute. Maybe she’s giving me her work address and she just doesn’t want to tell me the details over the phone.

“Oh, trust me, I do. Karma has been good to me. But enough about me, what about you?”

“I think I’ll save my news for when I get there too. Not that it’s anything near as exciting as being on Fifth Avenue.” Actually, it’s about the opposite of that, but I’m not going to wallow in my sad situation right now. I’m going to let my mind wander through Leah’s possible life and try to guess what she’s been up to instead. It’ll keep my brain occupied as I drive the four and a half hours.

“Okay, sounds like a plan. So you think you’ll be here by Friday?”

“Yep. Friday maybe by dinner time? Late afternoon, maybe?”

“Perfect. I’ll be waiting to hear from you. And I have your number now, so I can call you if anything comes up.”

“Great. So, I guess I’ll see you soon!” I’m not faking my happiness; now I really feel it. This is turning out much better than I thought it would.

“Yes! It’s going to be so awesome. Can’t wait. Bye!”

“Bye.”

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