Ryan
Wedging the stack of boxes I was holding between my thigh and the wall, I fumbled around to unlock the door to Ethan's condo using the code he texted me. The lock slid open and I shoved the door open with my hip, the boxes dangerously close to tumbling. Ethan must have heard the commotion because he appeared and opened the door all the way, catching my cargo just as it started to fall.
He was wearing a fitted black t-shirt and charcoal athletic pants and somehow, he still looked hot. It was unfair that he looked so good in what basically amounted to sweats. Then again, with a body like his, almost anything would look good.
With limited success, I tried not to ogle him. It didn't help that he was even better looking than I'd remembered from our first meeting. I reminded myself what I had told Isabelle earlier: athletes aren't my type.
"Why didn't you text?" he scolded me, surveying the boxes I'd deposited in the hall. "I would have come down to help you unload these."
I shrugged, still breathless from dragging up the boxes from my car, to the elevator, and then down the hall. It hadn't occurred to me to ask. "I don't know. I didn't have much to bring up."
"Women," he sighed, biceps bulging against his sleeves as he carried the crates in. I mean, not that I was looking or anything. "Now I feel bad that I was sitting here on my ass while you were carrying up all of these boxes. Please, let me help you. I'll bring in the rest."
Ethan Russell, a gentleman? Who knew? At any rate, I wasn't turning down the help. After moving out of my mother's and then staying at Isabelle's temporarily before relocating here, I was sick of dragging these infernal boxes around. I was developing a bit of a cube phobia at this point.
As I waited, I surveyed the condo again and a small thrill ran through my body. I couldn't believe I would be living there. It was, by far, the nicest place I had ever lived. The living room had a view of the river and there was a round, oversized armchair in the corner; the perfect space to curl up with a good book and a mug of tea.
Ethan brought the final box upstairs and put it in my new bedroom. "Is that the last of it?" he called from the loft balcony that overlooked the living room.
"For now. I still need to go to IKEA and buy some actual furniture. I don't exactly have a bed or a dresser yet, or even a lamp," I explained, slightly embarrassed. I didn't need much before, living in the dorms. I'd only brought about 4 or 5 boxes with me: mostly clothes and smaller personal items. Ethan had a fully furnished condo and here I was, living like a bag lady.
Ethan checked his phone quickly as he came back downstairs. "It's only 3. Want to go now? I can drive; I have a truck that will fit everything. And then I can help you get all of the bigger stuff upstairs."
I smirked. "Oh, I know you have a truck. I remember it clearly from when you swooped in and stole my rightful parking spot."
"You're never going to let me forget that, are you?" he laughed. He had the most charming dimple in his right cheek that I hadn't noticed before. I needed to stop noticing these things, actually. Brains should come with some kind of mute button for details better left ignored.
"Probably not. But as for IKEA, don't feel obligated. I can find someone else to go with me if you have other things to do."
As nice as it would be to get to know him better, I also didn't want to impose. Especially if he felt like he had to help me; I hated asking people for help.
"No, it's fine," he insisted as he threw on a black zip-up hoodie. "I have practice at six tonight. I can help you put it all together after that."
Inwardly, I rolled my eyes. Oh god, the ego on this one. Did he think I was completely useless? How did he think I'd functioned prior to meeting him?
"Believe it or not, some of us women can actually wield tools. I'll be just fine assembling it all," I assured him.
A look of disbelief flashed across his face briefly before he smiled and nodded. "All right," he said, clearly unconvinced.
We headed down to the parkade. As he walked around to the driver's side of the truck, I caught myself totally checking out his ass. I couldn't help myself; it was so muscular and firm. I just wanted to touch it.
And then, even his truck smelled delicious; like a good men's cologne mixed with cinnamon. Heaven help me, I was trying to keep my cool. I took a deep, calming breath and busied myself with looking out the window so I didn't stare at him.
"You asked me, but I never asked you: why did you need a roommate on such short notice?" Ethan asked me as he pulled out of the parking garage and signaled left to turn onto the street. "Did you break up with your boyfriend or something?"
Is he fishing to see if I have a boyfriend?
"No. My best friend and I were supposed to share a place this year, but it fell through at the last minute," I said.
"She bailed on you?" he asked. "That sucks."
"The sleazy landlord did," I explained. "Isabelle had a backup place to live and I didn't, so it was this, or beg campus housing to accommodate me in the dorms. God knows what I'd have ended up with then."
He grimaced. "I can assure you, you'll enjoy yourself a lot more living with me than you would being stuck in the dorms."
That's what I was afraid of.
*
Ethan
I returned home at nine, fully expecting to find the condo in a disarray of boxes, furniture parts and screws. Ryan had said something about being able to assemble it all, but I was skeptical.
Surprisingly, though, the place was spotless. I knocked on her door and found her laying on her new bed, watching a TV that she had mounted on the wall herself. A new desk and chair were situated along the adjacent wall.
She had already assembled all the furniture and taken the boxes down to the basement for recycling. She'd even hung pictures—which, when I first moved in, had taken me longer than I cared to admit. Had she borrowed my drill? I was impressed.
"It looks great in here," I said. The furniture was all white, and the room had an airy, beachy vibe. She had a great eye for decorating, at least compared to my 'when in doubt, go for black leather' strategy.
I added, "Hey, before I forget: I'm having a small party tomorrow for my friend Axel's birthday."
She raised her perfect eyebrows. "A small party? Elaborate. On a scale from get together to 'pic blowout kegger, where will this party fall?"
I shrugged. "Somewhere in the middle? I don't have parties every weekend or anything like that, if that's what you're worried about. But this is his 21st so it's kind of a big deal. He's the last one to finally be legal. Obviously, you're welcome to come and invite a few friends if you want."
She looked at the ceiling and scrunched up her face, pondering for a brief moment. I waited for her response and realized I was holding my breath, hoping she would say yes.
"Okay. I'll think about it."
I'll think about it? Most girls I knew were falling all over themselves to get an invitation to our team parties. I had witnessed legitimate physical altercations break out over it. But Ryan seemed genuinely indifferent to the idea. Who was this girl?
"Cool. And normally, I'd give you more notice before doing something like this. This was just something I've had planned for a while now," I told her apologetically.
She smiled. "No worries."
I headed downstairs to make some food, wondering what the hell had just happened. I wasn't sure why I felt so compelled to keep talking and to keep explaining myself to her. After all, this was my place, and this party had been in the works for weeks.
I realized that I wanted to make a good impression with her. This was a slippery slope. I had to remember to keep my eyes on the prize: this year was going to be all about hockey.
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Author's Note: Get some popcorn ready, the party is next and there's drama. Thanks for reading! Don't forget to vote and comment.