I trailed behind Anya as she led me down the hallway, the lighting flickering slightly from a loose bulb overhead. The floorboards creaked with every step, and I half-expected something to jump out from one of the many shadowy corners. Not that Anya’s place was creepy—just… old. Lived-in, in that chaotic way only she could pull off.
“Here we are,” she declared, flinging open a door at the end of the hall with a little too much flair, revealing what could only be described as a disaster zone. Clothes were strewn across the bed, an empty coffee cup sat precariously on the windowsill, and a suitcase—half-packed and spilling over—lay open in the middle of the floor.
I blinked, taking it all in. “Uh… guest room?”
Anya grinned sheepishly, nudging the suitcase aside with her foot. “Okay, so it
