Ice Between Us

Roommates. Un....... Fortunately.

Layla's POV

"How's the new apartment?" Charlotte asked.

I was in the middle of watering my favorite orchids when she dropped the question.

The orchids and I had a lot in common. We both liked peace, hated unnecessary disturbances, and thrived when left alone.

Unfortunately, unlike me, the orchids weren't currently stuck living with an arrogant menace.

My hand paused mid-air.

"Horrible."

The word slipped out before my brain had a chance to stop it.

Charlotte gasped.

"Oh no."

I frowned.

"What?"

"The apartment is horrible?" she asked, sounding genuinely distressed. "Layla, that's all my fault. If I hadn't moved out, you wouldn't have had to find a new place in the first place."

Guilt immediately punched me in the chest.

"What? No!" I straightened. "The apartment is fine. More than fine, actually. It's beautiful."

Charlotte went silent.

"Then why does it sound like you're one inconvenience away from committing a crime?"

I sighed.

"The apartment isn't the problem."

"Oh?"

"It's the person I'm sharing it with."

A beat passed.

Then another.

And suddenly Charlotte sounded far too interested.

"What did she do?"

I nearly laughed.

The confidence in that question.

The certainty that my roommate had to be a woman.

If only.

"Who said it's a she?"

There was a pause.

A much longer pause.

Then—

"It's a man?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Unfortunately."

"Oh, this just got interesting."

"It isn't interesting."

"It absolutely is."

"It absolutely isn't."

Charlotte ignored me.

"Is he old?"

"No."

"Ugly?"

I snorted.

"No."

"Terrible personality?"

"Finally. A correct answer."

Charlotte burst out laughing.

"What did he do?"

Where exactly was I supposed to start?

The arrogance?

The attitude?

The way he looked at me like I was the inconvenience when he was the one who had nearly given me a heart attack the first day?

"He exists," I muttered.

Charlotte laughed harder.

"You hate him already."

"I don't hate him."

"You just described his existence as a problem."

"Because it is."

"Mm-hmm."

I narrowed my eyes at a perfectly innocent orchid.

"You're enjoying this far too much."

"Of course I am. My best friend moved into a new apartment and immediately found a man annoying enough to complain about within four hours."

"I am hanging up."

"No, wait." Her voice turned mischievous. "Is he at least handsome?"

My mouth opened.

Then closed.

And that alone was enough.

Charlotte shrieked.

"Oh my God."

"I hate you."

"You didn't answer!"

"I have plants to water."

"Layla!"

I ended the call.

Immediately.

Then I stared at the orchids in front of me.

A handsome face flashed through my mind.

Followed by an infuriating smirk.

My grip tightened around the watering can.

Arrogant.

Annoying.

Unbearable.

–––

I pushed the apartment door open and immediately spotted him.

Of course he was on the sofa.

Of course he was glued to the television.

And of course he looked completely at home in an apartment that was supposed to belong to both of us.

A hockey game flashed across the screen while his fingers flew over the controller in his hands.

"Hey," I said, deciding—for the sake of peace and my blood pressure—to be civil.

He glanced over his shoulder.

For a split second, he actually smiled.

"Hey, Kenya."

My eye twitched.

Then he looked back at the screen.

"Oh, come on!" he groaned, mashing buttons on the controller.

"The name is Layla."

"Oh, right."

The fact that he sounded completely unapologetic somehow made it worse.

I dropped my bag onto a chair.

"We need to talk."

"About how we're going to survive this living arrangement?" he asked, eyes still fixed on the game.

I blinked.

That was exactly what I wanted to discuss.

"Yes."

A laugh escaped him.

Just one.

Short.

Amused.

I narrowed my eyes.

Was he laughing at me?

I sat on the sofa opposite his.

"Were you laughing at me?" I asked.

Nothing.

Not even a glance.

The audacity.

"Hey, um—"

"It is Ryan."

The game paused.

Finally.

He turned to face me properly for the first time since I'd walked in.

I hated how calm he looked.

"I know your name," I lied.

One corner of his mouth twitched.

I immediately disliked him a little more.

"Look," he said, leaning back. "I really didn't plan any of this."

The words caught me off guard.

He sounded almost... reasonable.

Almost.

"I didn't either," I shot back.

"I know."

His answer was immediate.

No sarcasm.

No attitude.

Just a simple acknowledgment.

"I wasn't blaming you."

Oh.

Well.

That ruined the argument I was preparing in my head.

"All I'm saying is that we're both stuck here," he continued. "I needed a roommate urgently. You needed a place you could afford. It works out for both of us if we stop treating this like a disaster."

A place I could afford?

Excuse me?

My eyes narrowed.

"You got the apartment cheap too, didn't you?"

His brows lifted.

"No."

The answer came so quickly that I almost missed it.

"I pay my share and half of yours."

I stared at him.

What?

He shrugged like he hadn't just dropped a bombshell.

"It's fine. I don't mind covering it while I'm still living here."

For a moment, I forgot to be annoyed.

Because that made absolutely no sense.

If he was paying more than me...

Then why was he so desperate for a roommate.

"I don't need you doing that. I can sort myself out."

I pushed to my feet, ready to retreat to my room before this conversation became any more confusing.

Then I froze.

My luggage.

The stack of boxes I'd left near the entrance had disappeared.

I turned sharply.

"My boxes were—"

"I took them to your room."

Of course he interrupted me.

Was that a personality trait or was I just special?

"Oh."

I hated that he'd beaten me to saying it.

"Great. Thanks."

Silence settled between us.

Awkward.

Uncomfortable.

Entirely his fault.

"Can you show me my room?" I finally asked.

"Sure."

He stood and headed down the hallway.

I followed him, trying not to notice how ridiculously familiar he already seemed with the apartment.

Three doors stood side by side.

Ryan pointed at one.

"That's the bathroom."

Then another.

"Mine."

And finally the last one.

"This is yours."

My gaze bounced back to the bathroom.

Then to his room.

Then back to the bathroom.

A terrible realization dawned on me.

"Wait."

Ryan's hand paused on the doorknob.

"We're sharing a bathroom?"

He winced.

Actually winced.

Which immediately told me everything I needed to know.

"Unfortunately."

My jaw dropped.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

I stared at him.

He stared back.

"With one bathroom?"

"That's usually how sharing a bathroom works."

I glared at him.

"This is a disaster."

"A bit dramatic, don't you think?"

"I barely know you."

"Trust me, Kenya, I don't want to know your skincare routine either."

"It's Layla."

"Right." He said walking away.

"Aaaarrrrrggggg." I felt like screaming loudly.

I dragged a hand down my face.

A shared bathroom.

With Ryan.

Just when I thought this arrangement couldn't get any worse.

I took a deep breath and stepped into my room.

The first thing I noticed was my boxes stacked neatly against one wall.

At least he had actually moved them.

The room itself was clean but disorganized, as though someone had put in enough effort to keep it tidy but not enough to make it feel like a home.

I slowly looked around.

The bed sat beneath a large window, and soft afternoon sunlight streamed across the room.

Not bad.

Actually, far from bad.

I liked it.

I really did.

But a part of me still missed living with Charlotte.

For months, she'd been my roommate, my best friend, and my personal source of entertainment.

Now she was off living her dream life with her boyfriend.

Probably cuddling.

Probably kissing.

Probably doing a lot more than kissing.

A grin tugged at my lips.

Good for her.

I walked back into the living room.

Ryan was already focused on another game, his fingers moving across the controller as if his life depended on it.

"Ryan."

No response.

Typical.

"Ryan."

This time he glanced at me.

For a moment, I considered calling him something else just to see how he'd react.

The same way he kept calling me Kenya.

But I was the mature one in this apartment.

At least one of us had to be.

"I think if this arrangement is going to work, we need some ground rules."