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I extend my hand. He doesn’t take it, making me feel foolish and annoyed all at once.
“What are you doing in my room?” he demands. He’s scowling down at me.
“Taking a tour,” I reply honestly.
He stays quiet, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s wearing workout clothes, and he’s muscular and intimidating, larger than I remember back in college the few times we ran into each other. His shoulders are broader now, and he’s lost the soft, rounded edges to his face. His jaw is square and currently clenched, covered in stubble, like he forgot to shave this morning. His hair is a little longer on top, but still the same dirty-blond shade and shaved along the sides and back. But those eyes … the gray-blue hue is the same. Cloudy and bright at the same time. A kaleidoscope of colors hiding depths that he doesn’t want anyone to see, especially a stranger like me. Because I’m the enemy.
“No one was here, so I thought I’d show myself around,” I continue, pretending to be more confident than I feel right now. “See where all the bathrooms are.”
“You have a bathroom in your room,” he counters.
“I know.” I spin on my heel and walk away from him, through his bedroom, and down the hall.
“You might be living here for a while—a short while, if I have anything to say about it—but my bedroom is off-limits to you. Don’t let me catch you snooping through my shit again.”
I roll my eyes, stopping to lean against the back of the couch. My posture is deceptively relaxed, though everything inside of me is twisted into nervous knots. Sam has a domineering presence, especially when he’s pissed. And he’s not hiding the fact that he isn’t thrilled to have me in his space. I expected it. But expecting it and experiencing it are two totally different things.
“I wasn’t snooping.” Lie. “Not one drawer was opened, and I didn’t have enough time to check out your closet.” That part is true. “But I promise not to let you catch me again.” I smirk.
He scoffs, the edge of his mouth tipped into a humorless grin. “I guess I’ll be investing in some cameras now. And some locks on the doors.”
“Don’t get the cameras,” I counter, walking into the kitchen. I start looking through cabinets until I find the glasses. I fill one with tap water and take a drink. “Anyone can hack into those, and then you’ll be plastered across the internet.” I cover my mouth in mock shock, like something just occurred to me. “Oh, wait. That’s right … you already are.”
He rests his hands on the marble island across from me and leans in. His biceps ripple and bulge from his weight. “Look, it’s no surprise that I don’t want you here. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“Well, your PR team seems to disagree. But for the record, I don’t want to be here either. This is a paycheck to me, nothing more.”
“Good. Then, you stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.”
“Just as long as you stay out of trouble at the same time,” I add.
He narrows his eyes and studies me. Then, slowly, he smirks. I don’t like the look of it. It’s like something just occurred to him, and he’s planning and plotting my demise. The disdain seeps off his frame like dew evaporating off grass in the morning.
There’s a knock at the front door.
I glance over at him with a furrowed brow. “I thought people had to be announced when they entered this building.”
The intercom on the wall by the front door has remained silent.
He ignores me and turns to walk back to his bedroom. “Make yourself useful and answer the door.”
I start moving toward it even though he ordered me like I’m hired help.
“Oh, and if that’s the bunny I’m expecting … send her on back to my room.”
“I’m sending her home!” I yell, not sure if he’s kidding or serious.
His chuckle disappears behind a slammed door.
I open the front door, relieved to see Madison’s face smiling back at me rather than a random puck bunny. It would have been unfortunate to be faced with an uncomfortable situation before I’d even unpacked one box. But I should probably prepare myself for the unexpected. I think it’s going to be my reality for the next few months.
Madison barrels past me and into the apartment.
“Did you get moved in?” she asks.
“I did,” I answer, closing the door behind her. “Now, unpacking? That’s an entirely new ordeal. I haven’t even started.”
Madison glances around the space, speaking mostly to herself. “Just like Ollie’s place …”
