You had six weeks to prepare for New York. And while you may have taken your entire wardrobe, you didn't quite have a place to put it yet or call home. So, you booked an Airbnb for a month, hoping that'd be enough time to find a place, but knowing you could extend your stay if it wasn't.
It was a rush, landing in the JFK airport, finding a subway station, purchasing a MetroCard to ride said train, and then trudging your suitcases and equipment up those steep stairs and along ten blocks before you finally found the place.
You stared up at it with a squint in the sun, admiring the older brick building that seemed to have about eight floors, maybe ten, and then you were buzzed up by the host whose name is Ashton.
"Hey, lovely to meet you." You greeted with a bright smile, holding out your hand, but you knew you looked like shit with no sleep, sweat from the near workout of hauling ass, and having cried for a whole plane ride, so you were just lucky he didn't mention it.
"Hi! So, I'm Ashton, you must be Y/n?" He asked rhetorically, gesturing for you to come in and it only took a nod for him to continue, "Yeah, so, this is the apartment and – oh! Cool, is that an instrument or something? I play a little guitar."
"Ah," You followed where he gestured, "No, it's just my camera and shit," You peered up at him with a small laugh, "It's a pain to pack with its cases and this thing," You brought up one of the tripods, "Doesn't go over well with airport security, lemme tell ya."
He laughed loudly and you smiled, but then he was waving for you to follow him.
"Good thing you rented a place with plenty of space then," He chuckled again, "Here's the bedroom," He pointed to the opened black door where you could make out a queen sized bed with plenty of pillows and a beautifully cinched white duvet that looked fucking inviting – yeah, you were exhausted, and then he pointed to the door on the adjacent wall that was also opened where you could see a nice desk, "That's the office, but there's a cot tucked into that one's closet, in case you have guests or whatever," He continued, "Kitchen," He pointed to the spaciously modern furnished kitchen that had a tile flooring but was open to the, "Living room," He leaned against the back of the couch that essentially acted like a divider between the two rooms, and had a glass coffee table with a massive flatscreen on the wall it faced, "Full bathroom connects to the bedroom and the half bathroom is next to the closet over there."
He gestured near the door you had come through that was off the living room – it wasn't a massive space overall, but for a newly single person in New York without any pets or anything, it was definitely more than needed.
"It's perfect," You tucked your suitcases on the side of the sofa and set your equipment on the coffee table, "Thanks for taking the reservation so last second."
"Actually, this works out great because I'm moving in above the bar I work at, so I'm just running the lease out on this place." He grinned and you quirked an eyebrow.
"How long's it got left?"
"About four months."
You glanced around, wondering if you could take over the lease or if you'd want to, but you didn't mention anything now since you just got there, and you hadn't even spent the night. Neighborhood could suck, the water pressure could be shitty – lots to consider.
He left soon after that, exchanging numbers with you because he'd be able to answer questions or whatever it was a lot faster that way instead of going through the app, and then you were left to your own devices.
You couldn't blame jetlag or anything, but you hadn't slept in nearly two days, so there was that to justify why you didn't bother unpacking and just slouched back on the sofa, ordering a pizza through an app. It's New York. You're only doing what you're meant to do.
