Billion Dollar Chance - Linnea May Page 0,14
proper gloves if I don’t want to lose fingers to frostbite by the time winter really hits.
My fingers are so stiff and blue by the time I reach my door that I’m struggling to get the key into the lock. I let out a deep sigh of relief when the door finally opens and I slip inside the apartment—only to be reminded that there is no solace or comfort waiting for me here. My roommate Alaina shares my dedication to the environment and agreed to keep our heating bill as low as possible to save money and the planet. Sometimes, poverty can be beneficial to minimizing a person’s carbon footprint.
Tonight, however, I can’t help but wish for a warm and cozy home to curl up in. The ride takes less than twenty minutes, but it was enough to leave me chilled to the bone. I peel myself out of my winter clothes and head for the kitchen, where I find Alaina sitting at the table with an old magazine and an empty dinner bowl. Her long, black curls are tied up in a messy bun with a bright yellow hairband and she’s wearing the same gray leisure suit I see her in most of the time.
“Hey,” she welcomes me, only looking up from her magazine for a split second before she lowers her dark eyes again. “How’s it going?”
“Good, good,” I lie, turning my back to her as I reach for the kettle on the stove. I lift it up and realize that it’s still filled to the brim with hot water. “Can I use this?”
My eyes trail back over my shoulder and I see Alaina nodding. “Yeah, sure.”
I fetch my big mug from the cabinet and drop a peppermint teabag in it before adding the hot water. The kitchen is always the warmest room in our apartment, which is probably why I find Alaina hanging out in here almost every night. That and the fact that her bedroom is basically a large walk-in-closet with just enough room for a queen size bed and a tiny make-up table. Even her dresser had to be placed out in the hallway.
Unlike me, she’s not burdened with any kind of career ambition. She works several jobs that appear to change almost weekly. Since I moved in about two months ago, she has worked in at least six different part-time jobs. Most of them were only temporary and very random—like a gig as a hand model for knitting instructions. The only constant is her waitressing job at a coffee place around the corner. In a way, Alaina is a true connoisseur of the art of living—which is probably why she is less bothered by the cold in our apartment than I am.
“It’s freezing out there,” I announce as I join her at the table, carefully lowering the steaming hot tea mug onto the table between us. “You think we should turn up the heat at least a little bit?”
She looks up from her magazine, raising an eyebrow at me. “Are you cold? Maybe you should try layered clothing?”
“Um, yes, of course, I could do that,” I agree hesitantly. “But, I was just thinking, isn’t it also bad for like… mold? I mean, I’m all for saving energy and all, but if we get mold in here, that would be pretty bad, right?”
Alaina chuckles. “Honey, don’t be naive. I’m pretty sure we already got that little friend living with us. I wouldn’t be surprised.”
I bite my lower lip, unsure how to proceed. Alaina doesn’t seem to realize what I’m trying to say. Or she chooses to ignore my intent.
“So, you’re fine with this?” I want to know. “It is getting quite damp and cold in here.”
Now she looks at me with both her eyebrows arched. “You really want to turn up the heat?”
I nod, cautiously. “Just a little.”
“Of course you can,” she responds, much to my surprise. “If you’re willing—and able—to pay for the extra cost? Because, frankly, I can’t and I won’t. I don’t want to take up another job for winter and I just quit that horrible call center position today.”
“You quit?”
“Yeah, saved up enough and I want to take it slow for a while,” she says languidly. “You know, focus on my art, my crafts. Maybe even get started on that Etsy store I’ve been telling you about. You know? With the healing crystals jewelry.”
I nod and throw her an encouraging smile. Her crystal collection was one of the first things she