Chapter 2
1101 Words
Pov; Emma
Emma Brooks knew someone was about to ruin her morning.
She couldn't explain how she knew.
Maybe it was the way the coffee machine had coughed up brown water instead of coffee. Maybe it was because Mrs. Alvarez from Apartment 2A had called at six thirty to report that "the pigeons looked judgmental today."
Or maybe Tuesdays simply enjoyed picking fights with her.
She unlocked the front office of Brookside Apartments, flipped the sign to OPEN, and looked at the stack of rent envelopes waiting on her desk.
Three tenants had already paid.
Mr. Patel had included homemade cookies.
Mrs. Alvarez had included a handwritten complaint about the neighborhood cat "smirking."
Apartment 5C had included exactly twelve cents and a note that read, This is all my son had in his pocket. The rest is coming Friday.
Emma smiled despite herself.
She made a neat pile of receipts and reached for her pen.
The front door creaked open.
Without looking up, she called, "If you're here to tell me the vending machine stole your money again, I already know. It's been stealing with confidence for years."
Silence.
Emma frowned and lifted her head.
A man stood in the doorway holding one black suitcase.
He was absurdly good-looking.
Not "cute."
Not "handsome."
Absurd.
Tall enough to make the doorframe look inadequate, broad shoulders hidden beneath a crisp white shirt, dark hair that somehow looked expensive, and a face that belonged on a billboard advertising watches nobody could afford.
He looked around the office as if he'd accidentally walked into another dimension.
Emma followed his gaze.
The faded walls.
The squeaky ceiling fan.
The ancient filing cabinet that only opened after being politely threatened.
She cleared her throat.
"Can I help you?"
The stranger stepped inside.
"I'm here about Apartment 3B."
Emma blinked.
"Oh."
So this was the new tenant.
She had expected... someone else.
Someone who owned more than one facial expression.
Someone less likely to make the office fluorescent lights seem inadequate.
She opened a folder.
"Damian Knight?"
"Yes."
She glanced at him again.
He was still standing.
Very straight.
Very quiet.
Very... uncomfortable.
Almost as if the plastic chair in front of her desk had personally offended him.
"Sit."
He looked at the chair.
Then at her.
Then back at the chair.
Emma almost laughed.
"You do know it doesn't bite, right?"
"I was checking if it was stable."
"It survived three toddlers jumping on it yesterday."
He sat carefully.
The chair groaned.
His eyes widened.
Emma shrugged.
"It complains about everybody."
He relaxed... slightly.
She slid a thick document across the desk.
"Before I hand over your keys, we need to go over the building rules."
He nodded.
She watched him for a moment.
He really was taking this seriously.
Interesting.
Emma began reading.
"No loud music after ten."
"Fine."
"No smoking inside."
"Fine."
"No parties without permission."
"Fine."
"No pets unless approved."
"I don't have any."
"No throwing furniture out of windows."
Damian looked up.
"...Is that common?"
"You'd be surprised."
She continued.
"No feeding pigeons."
"I wasn't planning to."
"No barbecue grills on balconies."
"I don't even own one."
"No roller skating in the hallway."
He frowned.
"That happened too?"
"Three times."
He rubbed his forehead.
"What kind of building is this?"
"A lively one."
His lips twitched.
Emma noticed.
Almost.
Then she reached the payment section.
"Rent is due on the first of every month."
He reached into his jacket and placed a sleek black card on the desk.
"I'll pay the full six months now."
Emma pushed the card back without touching it.
"No."
He stared.
"No?"
"Monthly."
"It'll save us both time."
"The lease says monthly."
"I'd rather pay today."
"I'd rather follow the lease."
He blinked twice.
Emma recognized that expression immediately.
Rich people.
They always looked like that the first time someone refused them.
"I'm not asking for a discount."
"I know."
"I'm offering to make your job easier."
"My job is easier when tenants follow the rules."
A long silence settled between them.
Finally, Damian leaned back.
"So... that's a no."
"Very much so."
He studied her face as though searching for a hidden camera.
Emma smiled politely.
He sighed.
"Fine."
"Wonderful."
She stamped the paperwork with unnecessary enthusiasm.
"Next."
He frowned.
"Next?"
"Cleaning deposit."
"I'll add it to the six months."
"No."
His eye twitched.
Emma was almost certain she hadn't imagined it.
"Today," she said, "we're collecting one month's rent, the cleaning deposit, and the key deposit."
"What if I lose the key?"
"You pay again."
"What if someone steals it?"
"You still pay."
"What if a squirrel—"
"We've never had a squirrel case."
He looked oddly disappointed.
After the paperwork was finished, Emma picked up a single brass key attached to a faded wooden tag.
She placed it in his palm.
"Apartment 3B."
He examined the key.
"That's it?"
"What were you expecting?"
"A keycard."
"This building was old before keycards were invented."
He slipped the key into his pocket.
Emma stood.
"I'll show you upstairs."
They climbed the staircase.
By the second flight, Damian's breathing had changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
Emma looked over her shoulder.
"Everything okay?"
"Does... this building not have an elevator?"
She laughed.
Actually laughed.
"Amazing."
"What?"
"You looked genuinely hopeful."
"I assumed—"
"You assumed wrong."
By the time they reached the third floor, Damian had gone suspiciously quiet.
Emma stopped outside Apartment 3B.
She unlocked the door and stepped aside.
"It's yours."
Damian walked in.
The apartment was small but bright. A comfortable sofa sat beneath the window. The kitchen occupied one corner, and sunlight spilled across the polished wooden floor.
He turned slowly.
For the first time since arriving, he didn't look horrified.
He looked... surprised.
"It's..."
Emma folded her arms.
"Go on."
"...Nice."
She smiled to herself.
Her grandmother had always insisted that even modest homes deserved love.
Emma had spent months fixing every c***k, repainting every wall, and replacing broken fixtures with her own savings.
"I'm glad you think so."
A loud voice suddenly echoed from the hallway.
"Emma!"
Mrs. Alvarez appeared without knocking, carrying a bowl covered with foil.
"I baked muffins for the new tenant!"
Her eyes landed on Damian.
She gasped so dramatically the foil nearly flew off the bowl.
"Oh."
She looked at Emma.
Then back at Damian.
Then at Emma again.
With a grin far too knowing for eight o'clock in the morning, she whispered loudly enough for the entire hallway to hear,
"So... is this the boyfriend you finally stopped hiding?"
Emma nearly dropped the spare key.
- Writer
