love at department 4B

--- LOVE AT APARTMENT 4B Chapter 1 — The New Neighbor The 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 Conditions Sharing 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 Night If 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 the pillow on the floor, the way he checked the gap between bed and wall like he was making sure I wouldn’t roll off in my sleep. Something warm curled low in my stomach. “Thank you,” I murmured. He nodded once, as if done with the topic. But I wasn’t. “You’re a good guy,” I added softly. Ethan froze for half a second, like he didn’t hear that very often. Or didn’t believe it. He covered it with a shrug. “You barely know me.” “Still,” I said, “I can tell.” His eyes flicked away. Getting ready for bed in the same room as him was… a whole situation. He turned off the lights except for the warm bedside lamp. I felt his gaze flick toward me then away as I dug through a box for my pajamas. It made my skin tingle. I slipped into the tiny bathroom to change — a loose sleep shirt that hit mid-thigh. When I came out, Ethan was already lying on the floor, one arm behind his head, blanket pulled up to his waist. He looked up at me, then quickly looked back at the ceiling. The tiny shift in his breathing didn’t escape me. “Are you comfortable?” he asked. “Yeah,” I whispered. I climbed into the bed, pulling the blanket up. The mattress dipped slightly, and Ethan tensed — just a tiny bit — like the sound of me settling in echoed too loudly. I turned off the lamp. And suddenly the room felt very small. Very dark. Very warm. I lay still, listening to the soft rhythm of his breathing. --- Chapter 4 — Breakfast, Boundaries, and Trouble Brewing The morning light slanted through the thin curtains of Apartment 4B, painting the studio in gold streaks. I yawned, stretching under the covers, and felt the unmistakable presence of Ethan on the floor beside the bed. Somehow, his blanket-covered shoulder was still impossibly close. “It’s… morning,” I mumbled. “Morning,” he said, voice low and rough, the kind that made the corners of my stomach curl in ways I didn’t fully understand yet. I sat up slowly, careful not to disturb him too much. He shifted, one arm propping his head up as he gave me a faint, sideways smile. “You sleep okay?” he asked. I paused. “Better than I expected.” “Good.” His smile softened, and I noticed, for the first time, the slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes. Handsome and irritatingly approachable. I got out of bed and padded to the kitchen. “Coffee?” I offered. He nodded. “Please. And maybe breakfast. Something edible.” I pulled open my boxes, realizing I hadn’t even unpacked the kitchen supplies. A rogue pack of instant oatmeal stared back at me. Perfect. Not gourmet, but it would do. While I stirred a pot of water, Ethan leaned against the counter, watching me like… like I was the most interesting thing in the room. Which, admittedly, made me blush even harder. “You make a lot of noise,” he said casually, though his smirk betrayed him. “Excuse me?” I asked, eyebrows raised. “You just… hmm. Stirring, tapping, muttering to yourself. It’s oddly entertaining.” I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide my grin. “Glad to provide morning entertainment for the guy on the floor.” He chuckled softly. “Yeah, well, you’re kind of… loud in a charming way. I’d never admit it aloud, though.” I turned to him, one hand on my hip. “That’s very specific.” “Charm is specific,” he said, shrugging. The way he said it made my heart do something ridiculous. ---