Her Name on My Lease
She's the color-coded opposite to my chaotic life. And she's sleeping in the next room.
Marin Vega lives in paint-stained jeans and deadlines. As a freelance illustrator in Bushwick, her life is a beautiful, nocturnal mess. But when her roommate bails, Marin is left with a two-bedroom apartment she can't afford and a desperation that leads her to the last person she expected: Claire Whitmore.
Claire is everything Marin is not: organized, corporate, and rigidly Type A. Fresh out of a relationship that left her feeling numb, Claire needs a place to stay, and Marin needs the rent money. It's a purely practical arrangement.
Until the walls start feeling thin.
Living with Claire is a lesson in torture. It's the sound of her breathing through the drywall. It's the sight of her in Marin's oversized flannel. It's the way Marin's sketchbook is suddenly filling up with drawings of Claire's hands, Claire's neck, Claire asleep.
They are opposites in every way, but the tension between them is becoming impossible to ignore. Marin is terrified of being "too much," and Claire is terrified of feeling anything at all. But in a cramped Brooklyn apartment, you can't hide from the truth-or from the woman across the hall.
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