Rowdy || 18+ || RH

Chapter 4

Emersyn

The air is thick with the aroma of garlic and onions sautéing in the pan as I stand over the stove, my mind a million miles away.

Valarie's been my rock, my truest friend through thick and thin, and as I chop the fresh bell peppers, I can't help but reflect on how lucky I am to have her.

"You know, baking would've been a piece of cake—no pun intended," I mumble to myself, nearly cutting my finger as the knife slips from my grip. Clumsy as ever, that's me. My cheeks heat up at the memory of a cake I once tried to bake for Valarie's birthday. It ended up looking more like a deflated balloon than a culinary masterpiece.

That was one of my first attempts at baking. Well, baking beyond the basics. I knew I loved baking ever since I was a little girl, but I wanted to create masterpieces. And although that particular cake did not turn out well, it led to many that did.

I shake my head, turning my attention back to the task at hand. Dinner. I may be an extremely talented baker now, but a chef I am not.

I add the peppers to the pan, wincing at the sizzle as I accidentally drop them from too high.

I reach for the pasta, nearly knocking over a stack of cookbooks in the process. With a sigh, I set them right, my eyes lingering on a baking book I'd earmarked for future attempts.

Baking is like therapy for me, a chance to create something sweet and perfect from simple ingredients. Maybe next time, I'll treat Valarie to some homemade cookies or cupcakes, something to thank her for letting me crash at her place.

It's the little things, really, that make Valarie such a precious friend. How she knows exactly when I need a cup of tea and a good book, or how she'll drop everything to watch a cheesy romance film with me, even though she can't stand them.

The water starts to boil, and I pour the pasta in, stirring and wondering how life got so complicated. But even in the midst of chaos, I have Valarie. As the sauce simmers, I find myself reflecting on our friendship, on all the times she's been there, on all the love and support she's given me.

I smile, feeling a warmth that has nothing to do with the stove. This dinner is the least I can do, a small token of my immense gratitude. I hope she likes it.

Valarie is more than a friend; she's family, and I wouldn't be who I am without her.

I glance at the clock, knowing Valarie will be home soon, and my thoughts wander to the room for rent. A house full of men, including the mysterious Marx. Is that even something I could handle? I don't even know if I could live with roommates at all. I've never done it before. I lived at home until after college and then Lyle and I got a place. I've stayed with Valarie before, but that's different than sharing a house with multiple strangers. The idea makes my heart race, and not necessarily in a good way.

Even though sharing a house with four men wasn't what I was expecting, I guess I wasn't what Marx was expecting either. He thought he was showing the room to a guy today, not a nervous woman who apparently has a staring problem. But he still offered me the room, and it's almost too good to turn down.

I stir the sauce thoughtfully, imagining the living arrangement. What would it be like to share space with them? Could I feel safe there? What would it feel like living under the same roof as Marx? A shiver runs down my spine.

I don't know why my thoughts are so fixated on him. He probably has a girlfriend, or a wife. He was wearing a lot of rings. One of them could have been a wedding band. But he did say all of the roommates were men. Wouldn't he have mentioned if his wife were living there?