---LOVE AT APARTMENT 4BChapter 1 — The New NeighborThe hallway of Willow Creek Apartments smelled like fresh paint and someone’s forgotten takeout—classic. I shifted the weight of the moving box in my arms, trying not to drop it on my first day in my new “fresh start” home.Great plan, Mia. New city. New job. New apartment. Totally not falling apart inside.“Just one more box,” I muttered to myself, nudging the door of Apartment 4B open with my hip.The door slid only halfway before hitting something… hard.A boot.Attached to a ridiculously long leg.Attached to a ridiculously handsome man who had clearly not expected to nearly be killed by my box of bathroom supplies.He pulled out one earbud, stared at me for a moment, and blinked like I had invaded his personal planet.“You’re in my doorway,” he said in a deep, rough voice.“No—you’re in my doorway,” I corrected, breathless—not from the box but from his stupidly perfect jawline.His brow lifted. “This is 4B.”I held up my key triumphantly. “Yes. My 4B.”He reached into the pocket of his gray sweatpants and took out his own key.We stared at each other.Then our keys.Then each other again.“Oh, no,” I whispered. “Don’t tell me—”“There must be a mistake,” he sighed, raking a hand through his dark, messy hair. “I’m moving in today.”“So am I!”This was my nightmare.And apparently his, too.He let out one slow exhale as if he were counting the seconds until he could escape. “Okay. Let’s not panic.”“I’m not panicking,” I lied.“You’re definitely panicking.”I hugged my box tighter. “Who even are you?”“Ethan.” He stepped back just enough for me to enter. “And you must be my accidental roommate.”I almost choked. “I’m sorry—WHAT?”He pointed inside. “There’s only one bed.”My heart plummeted.The apartment agency was so getting a furious email.---Chapter 2 — Terms and ConditionsSharing a bed with a stranger was not on my list of “new life adventures.”But here I was, standing awkwardly in the middle of Apartment 4B while Ethan leaned against the kitchen counter—arms crossed, biceps showing, looking like the universe’s idea of a cruel prank.“We should set some ground rules,” I said, dropping my box onto the floor with a thud.He nodded slowly. “Agreed.”The way he watched me made my stomach flutter. I immediately pretended I didn’t notice.“First,” I said, lifting a finger, “you stay on your side of the bed. No crossing over. No accidental cuddling.”His mouth twitched. “I don’t cuddle strangers.”“Good,” I said. “Because I don’t cuddle… anyone.”Lie. I was absolutely a cuddler.“Rule two,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “No touching my stuff.”“Rule three,” I countered, “no leaving your socks everywhere.”“I don’t leave my socks everywhere.”“You look like someone who might.”That earned me a raised eyebrow. “What does that even mean?”“Messy hair. Athletic build. Sweatpants. Definitely a sock-leaver.”His lips almost—almost—curved into a smile.“I’m not messy,” he said evenly. “I’m organized. Unlike someone who labeled a box ‘emergency snacks’.”“I need those snacks to survive.”“And the hair products?”I gasped. “That is essential inventory.”He shook his head with a tiny, amused sigh. “Fine. What else?”I hesitated, then pointed weakly at the bed.“So… um… how are we actually doing this?”His eyes flicked to the bed, then back to me. “We take turns.”“Taking turns… sleeping?”“No,” he said dryly. “Taking turns falling off the side.”I groaned and ran a hand over my face. “We can’t share a bed for a week.”“Then we don’t,” he said simply. “I’ll take the floor.”That stopped me.“You don’t have to do that.”“It’s fine.”“But it’s your apartment.”“It’s our apartment. Temporarily.” His voice softened the tiniest bit. “Just take the bed.”No man had ever spoken so casually while undoing the knots in my chest.“Thank you,” I murmured.He shrugged. “It’s just a floor.”But his eyes said something else. Something warm. Something that felt like trouble.---Chapter 3 — The First NightIf someone had told me a week ago that I’d be sharing a tiny studio apartment — and a bed — with a stranger who looked like he belonged on the cover of a winter-sports calendar, I’d have laughed.And yet.Here I was, standing in soft lamplight, watching Ethan spread a blanket on the floor beside the bed with a calmness I didn’t feel.“You really don’t have to do that,” I said quietly.He didn’t look up. “I’m fine.”“But you just got back from a work trip, and the floor is hard, and you’re—”“Mia.”He finally lifted his eyes to mine. “I want you to take the bed,” he said simply. “Don’t argue with me about it.”The firmness in his voice wasn’t bossy. It was… steady. Safe. The kind of steady I hadn’t felt in months.I swallowed. “Okay. But I feel guilty.”“Well,” he said with a ghost of a smile, “don’t.”I watched him for another moment — the way his broad shoulders moved as he arranged