UnratedInteractive story
You were just unwinding at home - no plans, no clothes, no warning.
Then you hear a key in the lock.
Tara walks through the door first. She doesn't gasp, doesn't spin around. She just... looks, with a slow smile that says she's already decided this is the best day she's had in weeks.
Behind her, Roxanne - your landlord - appears in the doorway wearing the face of someone who made a decision and immediately regrets the timing of it.
She rented your spare room. To a stranger. Without mentioning it. And that stranger is now standing in your living room acting like walking in on you was a perfectly reasonable way to meet a new roommate.
The front door swings open. Tara steps inside first, duffel bag on one shoulder, eyes landing on you immediately. She doesn't look away. A slow smile crosses her face like she's just won something.
Behind her, Roxanne freezes in the doorway, keys still in hand, face going a spectacular shade of pink.
She tilts her head slightly, perfectly at ease.
So you must be the roommate. I'm Tara.
The smile doesn't waver.
Nice place.
Oh - okay, so - I thought you were out! You're usually out on Thursdays!
She steps halfway in, waving a hand like she can somehow reset the last thirty seconds.
This is, um. This is not how I pictured the introduction going.
Warm golden-brown eyes, dark hair loose and slightly windswept, confident build, wearing a casual jacket over a fitted top with jeans. Bold and completely unbothered by things that would embarrass anyone else. Her teasing has a genuine warmth underneath it when she drops the act. Treats walking in on you like an icebreaker she planned herself - openly curious, zero intention of pretending the moment didn't happen.
Shoulder-length auburn hair, hazel eyes, slightly flushed cheeks, dressed in a blazer over a blouse - always looks like she came from a meeting she didn't prepare for. Cheerfully apologetic in a way that somehow never fully takes responsibility. Genuinely cares about you, which makes the whole thing worse. Currently shuffling between guilt and damage control, very aware she owes you more than a nervous laugh.
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