Mid April

There’s a bit of an adjustment period. Lucas turns out to be a morning person, which wouldn’t be bad in and of itself, but he also turns out to be the kind of person who sings in the shower - and in the kitchen, and in the living room, and when he’s getting dressed for work. Too much singing. Jack had been an early-morning cyclist, so Sarah had invested in various sets of disposable earplugs, but Lucas’s voice still manages to permeate through. She thinks she’s going to have to buy a more reliable set, at least for nights when she doesn’t have a morning class the next day.

His voice is also not the only thing that’s loud. It seems like everything about her new roommate is loud. His feet fall heavily on their vinyl flooring. He has a tendency to kind of lumber around, occasionally knocking into things. His laugh is boisterous, raised, the kind that Sarah usually only hears from people in a large group, when other people’s personalities are turned up to eleven and there is a bit of alcohol involved. Every conversation with him is a loud one, when he speaks the whole building can hear him! Lucas, it seems, only has one level.

Generally, though, it goes okay. Lucas is friendly, surprisingly organized, and seems to have a pretty happening social life, so he’s really not home that much. She works about four evenings a week as a server, and occasional cook, at a low-key hole-in-the-wall pub in the Financial District, and on those nights when she’s not getting home after midnight, she’s usually got either work to do on her masters thesis - a thorough analysis of the role of food and cooking scenes in mid-century British literature- or a baking project that she wants to tackle.

It is here, though, that she has to register a complaint: he’s “not really a dessert person, Sarah, I don’t know what to tell you.”

Not really a dessert person. Sarah had just stared at him blankly after he’d declined a slice of her newest cake combination - pear and walnut; she’s quite proud.

“Everyone is a dessert person, Lucas.”

“No. Not me.” He’d cheerfully prodded a nearby jar of what will be pickles, which sit atop a small shelf that he’d brought with him and named ‘the fermentation station,’

Letting things rot in jars, apparently, is one of his hobbies. Although it’s kind of unsightly, Sarah will allow this; she does love pickles. Not as much as she loves baking and dessert though.

This is fine in and of itself: nobody is forced to like sugary treats, and Sarah isn’t in the business of force-feeding people her food. Unfortunately, they have a very tiny London-sized freezer, and she’s quickly running out of room to house leftover baking. Sarah used to give a lot of it to Jack, whose sweet tooth is legendary, so without her main recipient, and test subject, the pile in the freezer is growing. She eats some of it herself - she is a dessert person, obviously - but she’s been trying to eat a little better overall - she’d made a terrible decision and signed up for a marathon in August, of all times- and she can’t give it all a home.

She’ll need to find foster homes for her babies.

Early May

On week three of Lucas living with her, he solves her freezer space problem. It starts with a gentle knock on her bedroom door and a hesitant, “um, Sarah?”

She looks up from her annotated copy of Pride and Prejudice, which she’s re-reading in her favourite Reading spot - the side of her bed that’s pushed up against the window, Reading pillow behind her back, cross-legged. “Yes?”

Lucas nudges her door open. “Hey Sarah, I was - oh hey, turntable! Cool!” He steps into her space easily, taking only one long stride to reach her dresser, where her father’s old record player sits. “What do you got on the go? Let me see - whoa Sarah, Jamaica! Didn’t peg you for a fan of the Bob!”

It’s about nine on one of the rare evenings so far where they both seem to be home, but Sarah hadn’t really planned on being social tonight. She has an aggressive study-and-rest schedule plotted out. But he’s lived here for three weeks and she’s mostly been not social, which she knows isn’t really conducive to a positive cohabitation relationship. Even if they obviously have very little in common and are never going to be best friends.

Still, they both seem to like the same type of music, so that’s something. Plus he’s like an excited puppy, a really big puppy. Sarah nods and smiles. “I’ve got a lot of his albums. Most are my dad’s originally, the others I went hunting for in used record stores. You’re a fan, I presume?”

“Of course!” Lucas gestures to the record player.

“Can we turn it on? I haven’t heard this bad boy in a good long while!”

Sarah can’t help it; the combination of his enthusiasm and the somewhat odd manner of speaking makes her smile. “Sure Lucas. Do you know how, or did you want me to?”

He waves her off. “Do I know how to use a record player, she asks. Of course, Sarah. I’m not an animal! Don’t you worry your pretty little head.” He takes a minute, but soon enough the opening harmonica rings throughout the bedroom, and he turns to her with a wide grin.

“You look a little happy for how bleak this song is,” Sarah observes.

Lucas shrugs good-naturedly. “I’m just excited! I knew you had some surprises up your sleeve, Dalton. Not all Russell Group after all.” He sits down on her floor, crosses his ankles, and hangs his wrists over his knees as he leans back, listening to the song. Five seconds after the lyrics begin, Lucas suddenly sits up and looks at her. “Nothing wrong with Russell Group, of course! Obviously. Just you know. Bruce is the working man’s man, so I figured - not that you’re not a working man, or lady, but -”

“It’s okay,” she cuts in, smiling. She gets it; she’s a fairly easy stereotype. Oxford undergraduate, then in Germany volunteering for a year, family own's a summer house in Italy. “Whatever you assumed about me, it’s probably mostly right.”

Lucas shakes his head vigorously and holds his hands up, palms facing toward her. “I didn’t assume anything! John said you were cool, that’s the only assumption I made. I promise.” He tilts his head and averts his eyes to her shelf, where her stack of records sits. “I did kind of figure you might be into opera or something, though.”

“Opera!” Sarah laughs. “I’m stuffy and uncool, but I’m not that stuffy and uncool. I do love musicals though!”

Lucas furrows his brow. “You aren’t either of those things, Sarah. I don’t know you that well yet, but I know that much already. Being a hard worker doesn’t make you either of those things.”

She bites her lip. “Oh, well - thanks, Lucas.” She clears her throat, the weight of Pride and Prejudice on her lap reminding her of tonight’s to-do list. “Anyway, um, did you need something?”

“Oh, right!” Lucas claps his hands on his knees and springs to his feet. “I was wondering what the deal was with the freezer. It’s kind of full.”

“Oh.” Sarah makes a face. “I’m taking more than my half, I know. I’m kind of a stress baker, but I’m also sort of training for a marathon and can’t eat it all myself, and you said you didn’t really like dessert, so - I’m sorry, I promise I’ll try harder to find it all a good home.”

“Oh, is that all you need? Just some people to eat it all?” Lucas snaps his fingers and points at her with one of them. “I got just the thing. I guarantee you if I bring it to the jobsite tomorrow, it’ll all be gone by lunchtime.”

That could work. Sarah smiles at him. “That actually sounds perfect, Lucas. I’ll package it up tonight so it’s easy to take with you tomorrow morning.”

“Cool!” Lucas swings a foot backward, almost kicking over a pile of books. “Then there’ll be room for pizza rolls!”

Sarah wrinkles her nose. “Oh, Lucas, no. Don’t buy those. I’ll make you some homemade ones.”

His eyes light up. “Homemade pizza rolls? You make those?”

“I haven’t before, but it sounds like a fun challenge.”

Lucas grins at her. “You make me pizza rolls, babe, I’ll nominate you for roommate of the year.”

Sarah picks up her book again. “It’s a deal,” she says, smiling at the pages.