I smile politely as I extend my hand and stand up. “Nice to meet you and welcome. I'm Melody.” I don’t know why, but suddenly, I’m feeling nervous, as if I’m meeting a celebrity.
“Hi. Nice to meet you. I'm Jason.” He smiles politely as well as he shakes my hand.
I can almost feel the stares from Ava and Isabel over their desktops towards me and Jason. I must admit; Ava was right. Mr. Hong has all the rights to be called Mr. Hotshot. With his deep brown eyes, soft voice, and sweet smile, he’s my type. His hand feels warm in mine and for a split second, I could almost see us walking hand in hand. Then I break eye contact and release his hand.
“Jason will work directly under Melody, so, to Melody the question: if you have any feedback, say it to Jason. He's here on a three-month trial, so you must teach him quick.” She says. “If there’s anything else, then let me know.”
I nod. 3-months is doable and not too bad. However, I'm not too thrilled to have an ‘intern’ at my side now. Especially someone who looks like him. When he grabs a seat next to me, I can briefly smell his cologne. He looks like that, and he even smells good. Damn it.
“Welcome to the team, Jason.” Ava says as she extends her hand. “I’m Ava.”
They shake hands, and then Isabella also introduces herself before sitting down again. I feel jittery, like a storm is coming. “So…” he starts. “We’re should I begin, boss?”
I chuckle and look at him. I’m met with those same brown eyes, and I can’t help but think they are the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen. “Well, for starters, don’t call me boss. It makes me feel old, and I’m not that old. Don’t worry.” After those words left my mouth, I can’t help but feel stupid. He’s not at all going to care how old I am.
But thankfully he says nothing. He doesn’t even chuckle or smile or show any other sign he finds me being stupid. “Sure, thing. Melody, then?”
As soon as my name leaves his lips, a tingle in my body shoots up. “Yes, Melody is fine.” He can say my name as much as he wants.
I teach him the ropes of the trade. I try to not care too much about Ava’s stares and Isabella’s always listening ears, but I only succeed half. Jason's learning distracts the other half. Although the name is a bit cringe, ‘Mr. Hotshot’ is a fitting name for Jason. Apart from looking great, he’s also smart and seems passionate about what he’s doing. He asks smart questions, takes my feedback at heart and I feel almost proud already of being his supervisor.
About an hour into work, he sits up and taps me on the shoulder. “Melody?” I look at him, half distracted again, but this time by work. He holds up a credit card. “Do you also want some coffee?”
I shake my head. “No, don’t worry. I'll get it myself later.” Hoping I didn’t sound too rude, I turn away again, but he stops me.
“No, really,” he says. “I need some coffee and I think we all can use a break?” he gestures to Ava and Isabella as well.
From the corner of my eyes, I almost see Ava’s ears pop up. Isabella is less subtle with it. “Coffee and a small break sound great!”
“You know,” I interrupt them before they can walk off together. “You don’t have to make it a habit to get us coffee. You’re going to be a full-time employee, which means you don’t have to get us anything.”
“You’re saying, with full confidence, that I can be a full-time employee?”
“Of course. Just listen to my feedback and do as I say, and you’ll be fine.”
He laughs. A true laugh this time. Not a chuckle or a polite smile. “Well, then getting a coffee is the least thing I can do.”
He then leaves, together with Isabella, to get us coffee downstairs at the cafe. The second the elevator doors close, Ava turns to me, a smug smile on her face. But before she can say anything, I interrupt her. “Don’t say anything, please. I’m just being nice to him.” She laughs and makes a face that says she doesn’t believe me at all, but luckily says nothing. Thank god for that, because now I can hide my face for a bit. I add another thing to the mental list I created in my head, titled: all the things I like about Jason. His laugh is by far my favorite thing. Before I can think any further, I stop myself. This is an employee I’m talking about. A junior at that. There’s no way I can like this person. So, I sit, and I type, and I work, until all the thoughts, unrelated to work, have been safely tucked away.
Apart from the coffee incident, nothing else interesting happens. I have my hands full of correcting Mr. Miller’s mistakes, and Jason keeps on working in silence. And then suddenly, it’s 5 o’clock. It's the end of the working day already but I really want to finish this document so I can send it to Mr. Miller again and be done with it. I have about 3 pages left and just when I want to continue working, Jason interrupts and asks me: "Aren’t you going home?"
I look at him and see that he’s already clearing everything out so he could leave. Ava and Isabella also went home, but I don't think I noticed them going. Diverting my eye back to Jason, I notice that he’s hesitating. "Ah, I’m not done yet." I say quickly. "I’ll finish soon, though. But you can go home already! I’ll see you tomorrow." I wave at him to get him going, but he hesitates still.
"Are you sure? Can’t I do anything? Maybe I can do something too, so we can finish it faster?"
Already going to sit down again, I gesture at him. "No, it’s okay. Truthfully, I’m not even supposed to do this, so it’s not your job to take this from me. It’s okay, so don’t worry about it. Just go home and I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?"
Hesitantly, he gives in and packs his things. "Okay, well… see you tomorrow. Good luck with the work you’re not supposed to do."
"Thank you. Have a good evening." I wave at him and continue my work. "Freaking Mr. Miller. Letting me do all these things. I need to have a talk with him and Jessica too..." I mumble to myself.
Miller was Jessica’s first client ever, so I can’t just be stern with him. Or maybe I can, but I just don’t know it. I jot down "meeting Jessica" on my calendar for tomorrow and continue with the daunting task. About an hour later, I’m finally finished. I send the reviewed file to the client and then turn off my computer. I’m finally done for today. Sam has the party thing with her friend, so I’m in no hurry to get home. That is until I get a call from my landlord.
"Mr. Grant. Good evening." I gather my stuff and head towards the elevator.
"Miss Winters. Good evening. I was planning on calling you, but I completely forgot about it. Don’t worry,” he adds quickly. “it’s not about something you did or didn’t do. As always, you’re an impeccable renter."
I laugh as I press the elevator button. "Ah, that’s okay. And you know I take care of things that are given to me, especially for such a price."
When Sam and I were looking for a house or studio or room or basically anything to live in, Mr. Grant came as an angel. The older man had lived his peaceful life together with his wife in the house and wanted to rent it out when they moved to another, smaller house. When he heard about our difficult situation, he didn’t hesitate and trusted us by asking me what I could pay him and what I thought the house was worth. I named my price, and he accepted it. I’ve heard horror stories about landlords, but this man was, and is, a godsend.
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"But tell me," I continue. "What did you want to talk to me about?"
"Right." He coughs like he's uncomfortable and says: "I rented the spare room out and the new tenant, a guy, is moving in this evening."
The elevator dings and opens the doors, but I can’t move. Out of all the things he could’ve said, I never thought it would be like this. One of the amazing things about this place I was living in, was that I could live there on my own with Sam. No one else to bother me. Granted, we’ve lived here for about 3 years and things are not as desperate as in the first few months we moved in, but still. I stand still in the elevator, and it’s only when it closes again that I’m able to walk out.
"I’m sorry?" I ask, still dumbfounded, not knowing what else to say.
"I’m sure this comes as a shock to you, and I’m sorry that I’m only telling you now. I don’t want to blame it on my age, but I tend to get forgetful these days."
"When did you hear about it?" I ask him.
He thinks for a second but then answers: "If I remember correctly, and that is a big if, it was a few months ago."
Months? He knows about it for months and doesn’t call or let me know anything. Old people and their forgetfulness. I get that he’s old, but certain things should be remembered since they’re just that important.
He continues again. "Miss Winter, I’m sorry to inform you this late, but there’s a good reason to why I’m renting this room out. Please listen to me."
You better have a good story, I think by myself, but I just hum, showing he should go on. Meanwhile, I’m getting a cab. The buses and the metros and all the people listening in on my conversation shouldn't be bothering me.
Mr. Grant goes on how this new tenant, which he can’t remember the name of, desperately needed a house. “He started today at his new job and if he couldn’t find a house, he had to say no to the company. Seeing how you started out the same way; I thought it would’ve been a nice gesture of me to lend him the spare room.”
A nice gesture? I scoff. It would’ve been a nice gesture if he would’ve let me know, the first tenant, that there’s going to be a second one. I sigh reluctantly. "Mr. Grant. First, I understand your position and his position, but then again, I really would’ve wanted you to tell me before. I don’t think this can just be done like this.”
"I’m very sorry, Miss Winters, but there’s nothing I can do now about it. I only suddenly realised it because the renter texted me, asking for the address because he wanted to confirm it. What I can do is look out for any other room. If there’s an option available, I’ll let you know immediately. Maybe it can be arranged within a month."
The old man sounds apologetic, and I really want to believe him, but I’m just too overloaded with information. First, there’s someone renting the spare room. Second, it’s a guy. Third, he’s coming this evening. Like, what else is there? For all I know, he could be a serial killer. For a second, I think it's Brian. It could be. Maybe he found me. Maybe he chose another name because Mr. Grant knows that my ex’s name is Brian and that I never want to see him again. But then again, my landlord would never give the room to Brian, would he?
"I think that’s a good option." I say, closing my eyes for a second, to get rid of the image of Brian living in my house. "Please be on the lookout for any other room. Thank you for understanding the situation. If you could inform me as soon as possible, that would be great."
He apologises again, obviously feeling sorry, and disconnects the call. This is crazy, bizarre, and shouldn’t happen. Hell, I don’t think this is even legal. I’m sure there’s something in the contract about notifying a renter that someone is going to move in a few weeks before. Then again, our contract was based more on trust than actual rules. I curse at myself for being too easygoing and note that whenever we move out and get a new house contract, I would read it from beginning to end, knowing my exact rights, and keeping them. For now, that promise was futile, as it already happened.
"I can’t fucking believe this..." I mutter when I finally come out of my shocked state and tell the taxi driver to hurry. Hoping to come home to a nice person who wasn’t an abusive ex, but a normal person.
When I finally, finally reach home, because of course, there was a lot of traffic and it took longer than usual, the lights in the house were turned on.
"Damn it…" I pay the taxi driver, thank him for the ride, and get out. As I’m walking towards my house, I feel this nervous energy settling into my bones. I don't know who to expect and what to come home to. Is it a burglar? It could be. A burglar who makes it easy on himself and turns on all the nice lights. Yes, that was totally believable.
When I reach the front door, I have the strange urge to ring the doorbell. Instead, I reach for the keys in my bag and hesitantly open the door.
"Hello? Sam?" A futile hope. I knew it. Despite that, I wish it’s Sam and the call with Mr. Grant is all just a weird nightmare. In the daytime. While I’m fully awake.
"Hello?" A male voice answers.
Damn it. My heart drops in my stomach. This is not Sam. I hear clutter in the kitchen, pans being washed, and glasses in the water. No, definitely not. Sam wouldn’t do the dishes in the first place, not out of her own good self. I put down my bag in the hallway but leave my coat and shoes on. I need to know now. Nerves are clawing at my throat, my breath is too shaky, and I try to collect myself, try to brace myself to see Brian again. Until I turn the corner from the living room to the kitchen and I see who is living here now, too.
"You?" Once again this evening, my world stands still. Jason fucking Hong is in my kitchen, with my apron around his waist and my pink gloves on his hands. "What the hell are you doing here?" He looks like he was in the middle of doing the dishes, with the soap on the gloves and water dripping down onto the floor.
He laughs awkwardly. "Living here... I guess you’re the other tenant?"
“Yeah, I am…” Relief washes over me. It’s not Brian. He hasn’t found me yet. I’m still safe. For a few seconds, we just stare at each other. Me, trying to collect my thoughts and getting my heart rate down. Him, probably thinking I’m weird when I’m just staring at him like that. “Right…” I say. “Uh, well, by the way, I don’t live by myself.”
His eyes widen. "Oh, I have two new housemates? Your boyfriend, I assume?"
"No, my little sister." I say. "I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t date.” I don't know why I just said that. It's not like it's important information for him to know.
“Ah.” He smiles again, not noticing my embarrassment. "Noted." There’s a short silence between us and now that the situation dawns on me, I realize how stupid this is. My new coworker, who started today at my company, who I had to mentor, is living in my home, as a tenant and he’s wearing my apron and doing the freaking dishes. I can’t help but laugh.
"You know, you could’ve given me a heads up." I laugh as I take off my coat and shoes, and walk back into the living room, towards the hallway.
"If I had known you’d be the other person, I would’ve. Promise” For a moment, he also looks relieved, but then he turns around to the kitchen and I can’t read him anymore. “I understand this is a very weird and possibly uncomfortable situation. Believe me, I didn’t know." The clutter in the sink starts again and when I emerge from the hallway, now comfortable slippers on, he continues. "I’m sure you have some house rules, and I’ll follow them all. Let me finish the dishes and-," He suddenly stopped talking and turns to face me. "Wait, have you eaten something?"
I shake my head. "Not yet, but I’ll order in. Don’t worry about it. You do the dishes and then we need to talk."
“Oh, no it’s okay. I can totally cook something. I have some leftovers?”
I blink once, twice, thinking his proposal over. This evening is already weird and uncomfortable. I don’t want to make it even more uncomfortable. I wave his proposal away. "No, really. It’s fine. I already had something in mind to order, anyway."
"Okay, sure thing."
He fully turns around now and continues washing the rest of his dishes. I sigh a breath of relief; thankful he didn’t push more.
"So, when did you find out someone else was living here, too?" I ask, taking out my phone to look at the food delivery app.
He laughs. "Since yesterday. Mr. Grant called me yesterday evening, confirming all my information and my contract. I honestly thought I was going to live with a few guys, but the moment I stepped into the hallway and saw heels, I knew it was different." He drains the water from the sink and starts drying the just washed plate, cutlery and other kitchen stuff.
For a second, I’m blown away. A guy who cleans is one thing, but it’s another thing when he also dries the dishes? I sometimes don’t even do that.
"Of course, I did not know it would’ve been you. Again, I would’ve said something, of course. Honestly, I thought the landlord would let you know way earlier.”
“Yeah, me too." I hesitate before I continue. "I bet you’re a lovely guy, it’s just… this situation is just...”
“Weird.” He finishes my sentence for me. “I understand. You don’t know me that well, and you also didn’t have any time to prepare. I totally get it.”
We smile at each other, both trying to deal with the situation in our own way. "Well," I break the silence. "I’m going to order some food. Let’s talk after that?"
Jason looks relieved, having the moment of 'meeting each other' out of the way and some break to gather his thoughts as well. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.