Ice Between Us

Layla's POV The last person I expected to find in my new apartment was a naked man. Not shirtless. Not wearing a towel. Completely. Unapologetically. Naked. My suitcase slipped from my fingers and landed on the floor with a loud thud. "What the hell?" I blurted out before I could stop myself. "Who are you?" The question came out much higher than I intended. The stranger looked at me, entirely too calm for a man standing naked in the middle of someone else's living room. Then he frowned. "Funny," he said. "I was about to ask you the same thing." I stared at him. "What does that mean?" "It means exactly what it sounds like." "I live here." I pointed at the floor beneath us, emphasizing every word. His eyebrow arched. Then, unfortunately, he turned fully toward me. And just as unfortunately, my eyes followed. For a second. One terrible, horrifying second. Oh God. I spun around so quickly I almost made myself dizzy. "Can you please put some clothes on?" "I live here," he repeated, completely ignoring my request. My grip tightened around the handle of my purse. "I just signed the lease for this apartment." A look of realization crossed his face. "Oh. You're the one Denise said would be moving in." I blinked. "What?" A nervous laugh escaped me. "No. Tell me that's not what I think it is." "I have no idea what you're thinking," he said as he started walking away, "but it looks like you're my new roommate." My jaw dropped. "That's impossible. I thought my roommate would be a woman." He paused. "And for the record, I was expecting a guy." His footsteps echoed through the apartment before a door slammed shut somewhere down the hallway. For a moment, I simply stood there. Then I pulled out my phone. There was absolutely no way I was living with a man. I quickly found Denise's number and called her. She answered on the first ring. "Hello, Miss Denise." "Oh! It's Lay, right?" she asked cheerfully. "Layla," I corrected automatically. "Right, Layla. So, how do you like the apartment? You were in such a hurry earlier that you didn't even let me give you the full tour." I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Actually, that's what I'm calling about. There's a guy here claiming he lives in the apartment, so I was wondering if maybe you gave me the wrong keys." I laughed weakly, hoping that was the case. "Oh, no," Denise replied. My stomach dropped. "That would be Ryan. He's your roommate." I nearly stopped breathing. "My... roommate?" "Yes." "But I thought the room was available because the previous tenant moved out." "It was," Denise explained. "Ryan already lived there. The other room became vacant." I closed my eyes. "I thought my roommate would be a woman." "Oh dear." She laughed softly. "I suppose I forgot to mention that." Forgot? How exactly does someone forget to mention an entire man to a woman? "Besides," she continued, "you were desperate to find a place quickly, and Ryan didn't seem to mind sharing. I just assumed neither of you would have a problem with it." Well, one of us definitely did. "Oh." Brilliant response, Layla. "Oh." "Do you mind?" she asked, sounding genuinely concerned. "I..." I swallowed. "Can I call you back later?" "Of course, dear." We exchanged goodbyes and ended the call. The apartment suddenly felt much smaller. Somewhere behind one of those closed doors was Ryan. My roommate. A complete stranger. A male roommate. I dropped onto one of the sofas, my left leg bouncing uncontrollably against the floor. This couldn't be happening. Of all the apartments in the city, I had somehow ended up sharing one with a man. A complete stranger. No. Absolutely not. One of us had to leave, and it certainly wasn't going to be me. I had barely settled into my thoughts when a door opened down the hallway. I immediately straightened. A second later, Ryan emerged. Freshly dressed this time. Thank God. He walked toward the living room as though nothing unusual had happened today. As though he hadn't been the first thing I saw when I walked into my new apartment. Naked. "We need to talk." The words rushed out of me as I sprang to my feet. I wasn't usually this rattled. In fact, I prided myself on staying calm under pressure. But there was something about this entire situation that had my nerves tied in knots. Ryan stopped and looked at me. Waiting. Or maybe just staring. Honestly, it was hard to tell. "I spoke with Miss Denise," I began. "She explained everything." His expression remained unreadable. Apparently, getting a response from him required divine intervention. "She told me you already lived here with the previous tenant." Still nothing. Not a nod. Not a word. Not even a blink. I was beginning to understand why people found walls frustrating. At least walls didn't look annoyingly handsome while ignoring you. A spark of irritation flared inside me. I had known this man for less than fifteen minutes and I already didn't like him. Not one bit. "But clearly this arrangement isn't going to work." I gestured between us. "You and me. Living together." The idea sounded ridiculous even as it left my mouth. "So we need to come up with a solution." I folded my arms. "Right?" He glanced at his watch before pulling down the hood that had been covering part of his head. Then he looked at me. "So, what solution did you come up with?" I blinked. Why was I the one expected to solve this? "I don't know," I admitted. "Anything, really." His gaze dropped to his watch again. The gesture annoyed me more than it should have. As though he had somewhere important to be. As though I didn't have a life waiting for me too. Instinctively, I checked the time on my own watch. My eyes widened. Oh, crap. I was already late for work. "You—" "Whatever it is," he cut in, "let's discuss it after I get back." He picked up a set of keys from the table.. "I need to be at practice." Practice? Before I could ask another question, he was already heading toward the door. "It is—" I barely got the words out before he interrupted me again. "Bye, Kenya." "It is Layla." He opened the door and stepped outside. Then he was gone. I stared at the closed door. What? Who the hell was Kenya? I looked around the apartment, half-expecting someone else to appear and claim he had been talking to them. Nothing. Just me. Unless he had suddenly decided to start naming people after countries. Fantastic. A complete stranger. A terrible roommate. And now a guy who thought my name was Kenya. I dropped back onto the sofa and groaned. This had to be the worst day of my life. And judging from our first meeting, this living arrangement was shaping up to be an absolute disaster. As I pushed myself off the sofa, ready to get to work, my phone rang. The caller ID flashed. Charlotte. My former roommate. I answered immediately.