Parties didn’t end well for me.
Closing my door behind me, I kicked off my shoes and dropped my bag on the couch. Furnishing this apartment had put a dent in my account, but I’d be here for four years and I figured I could sell it when I left or bring it with me.
And it was all my stuff. That meant a lot to me.
The party raged on across the hall, long after I finished my not-so healthy salad, changed into sleep shorts and a long sleeve shirt, and finished my art homework. It was just after midnight when I gave up on reading my English assignment and started back toward my bedroom.
But I stopped in the hallway, my toes curling into the carpet.
A burst of muffled laughter rang out and I knew their door must’ve been open, because it sounded louder than before. I was frozen, worrying my lower lip. What if I opened the door and recognized someone from class? It was obviously a college kid throwing the party. Maybe I would know the person? So what if I did? Wasn’t like I was going to join in when I was braless, wearing my jammies, and rocking the messiest ponytail known to man.
I turned and flipped on the bathroom light, staring at my reflection. Scrubbed of all makeup, the freckles on the bridge of my nose stood way out and my face seemed more flushed than normal. I leaned against the sink my mom would’ve laughed at and pressed my face closer to the mirror.
With the exception of my reddish-brown hair that was from my father, I was the spitting image of my mom. Straight nose, rounded chin, and high cheekbones, with all the cosmetic help she’d had over the years to stay looking fresh, we looked more like sisters instead of mother and daughter.
Footsteps echoed out in the hall. More laughter.
I made a face at my reflection and pushed away from the mirror. Back in the hall, I told myself to go to sleep, but I found myself walking toward my front door. I had no idea what I was doing or why I was being so nosy, but everything sounded… warm and fun out there and everything in here was cold and boring.
Warm and fun?
I rolled my eyes. God, I sounded lame. It was cold in here because I had the central air cranked like a mother.
But I was at the door and there was nothing stopping me. Yanking it open, I peered out into the stairwell, seeing two heads disappear down the steps. The door to the party was still open, and I stood there, torn. This wasn’t home. No one was going to send me a scathing look or yell obscenities at me. If anything, they’d probably think I was some kind of freak just standing there, half out my door, all bug-eyed, and letting all the cold air out.
“Bring Raphael back!” exclaimed a familiar voice and a deep laugh that had my stomach dropping in stunned disbelief. “You fucktard!”
I recognized that voice! Oh my God…
It couldn’t be. I hadn’t seen the big ass silver truck outside, but then again, there were so many cars and it wasn’t like I was searching for his truck.
The door swung all the way open, and I froze as a guy stumbled out, laughing as he set a tortoise—what the fuck?—on the floor. The thing stuck its head out, looked around, and then disappeared into its shell.
A second later, the guy who’d put the tortoise outside was pulled back into the apartment and Cam appeared in the doorway in all his shirtless glory. He reached down and scooped up the little green guy. “Sorry Raphael. My friends are complete, fucking….” He looked up.
I tried to jerk back inside, but it was too late.
Cam saw me.
“Assholes…” He did a double take. “What the…?”
Would dive bombing into my apartment seem weird? Yes—yes it would. So I went with a very lame, “Hey…”
Cam blinked several times, as if he sought to clear his vision. “Avery Morgansten? This is becoming a habit.”
“Yeah.” I forced myself to swallow. “It is.”
“Do you live here or are you visiting…?”
I cleared my throat as the tortoise’s legs started moving like it was trying to wiggle away. “I… I live here.”
“No shit?” Those baby blues widened and he swaggered around the railing. I couldn’t help but notice how his gym shorts hung way low on his narrow hips. Or his stomach. It was ripped, taking six pack into eight pack territory. “You really live here?”
I forced my gaze up and got stock on the sun tattoo. “Yes. I really live here.”
“This is… I don’t even know.” He laughed again, and I met his stare. “Really crazy.”
“Why?” Besides the fact he was standing in my apartment hallway, shirtless and barefoot, holding a tortoise named Raphael?
“I live here.”
I gaped at him. The whole half naked thing sort of made sense now and I guess so did the tortoise, but it couldn’t be. Way too many coincidences. “You’re joking, right?”
“No. I’ve been living here for a while—like a couple of years with my roommate. You know, the fucktard who put poor Raphael outside.”