Chapter 4: Lines Begin to Blur

We started chatting, the conversation gaining momentum as the awkwardness melted away. Natalie was 21, just graduated with a marketing degree, and trying for grad school. Her parents sent her a little money each month, but jobs were scarce, so she rented the cheapest room and kept looking for work.

She talked about her parents up in Redding, the endless job boards, and even an interview at a doggy daycare. We commiserated about late-night study sessions and the weird pressure to live up to expectations.

She smiled when I told her I’d also taken the grad school exam. "Some of my friends made it on their second try, so you’re not far off. If you work hard this year, you’ll definitely succeed," I encouraged.

She thanked me, her eyes lighting up for the first time. I realized how independent and principled she was—kind, well-mannered, and determined not to give up.

The conversation shifted to her boyfriend. She picked at a loose thread on the blanket, not quite meeting my eyes as she talked about him. They’d been high school classmates, but her family never approved—her mom always warning her not to date someone like that. He didn’t make much money and always seemed to need help.

"The last time you saw me eating with my boyfriend in the kitchen was his birthday," she said, smiling a little, though her eyes seemed sad. "I cooked a few dishes and invited him over."

I wanted to ask more, but it wasn’t my place. Maybe Natalie was just trying to protect herself, keeping everyone at arm’s length.

After nearly ten minutes, the tension had faded. She sat straighter, her confidence shining through. "Can I see the side room? I’m really curious about the layout," she asked, her tone hopeful.

"Sure," I said, standing and gesturing for her to follow. The side room door was behind her, so I approached, slowing as I got close. She tugged at the edge of her towel, knuckles white, eyes darting from the couch to the window.

"The side room door is behind you," I smiled. She twisted to the right, letting me squeeze by. She adjusted her towel, stood up, and pressed her toes into the floor, glancing up at me for reassurance.

She covered the top and bottom of her towel, standing delicately as if every move might cause a disaster. The tension was back, humming in the air.

We were only a foot apart—her height just level with my mouth. Her scent drifted over, and I took a slow breath, trying not to lose my cool.

Natalie walked to the side room door, with me just behind. I reached for the keypad, hands shaking from nerves and the summer heat. The beep of the keypad sounded way too loud in the tiny room, and I was suddenly sure she could hear my heart pounding.

Maybe because Natalie was so close, I fumbled the password twice. I braced my right hand on the wall, boxing her in. She was right in front of me, her back pressed to the door, caught between me and the wall.

This was the closest we’d ever been. My heart hammered. For a split second, I wondered how different things could be if we weren’t so careful.