1
Avery
The first thing I learned about living alone was that furniture delivery companies were full of shit.
The second was that apparently nobody in the history of apartment buildings had ever considered making an elevator large enough to accommodate a couch.
“It’s not going to fit,” the delivery guy announced.
I stared at him.
He stared at the couch.
The couch, which I’d spent three weeks saving for and another forty minutes convincing my mother was a perfectly reasonable purchase, remained wedged diagonally between the elevator doors.
“Have you tried turning it?”
He gave me a look. “We’ve tried turning it.”
“What about standing it up?”
“Ma’am.”
I narrowed my eyes.
I was nineteen years old. I had an apartment lease, a student loan, and a credit card bill that was already making me reconsider several of my life choices.
I was not a ma’am.
“It’s Avery.”
“Okay, Avery. The couch isn’t fitting.”
Behind him, his coworker made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.
I folded my arms. “So what exactly are you suggesting?”
“The stairs.”
I looked toward the stairwell.
Three floors.
Of course.
“Fantastic,” I muttered. “Love that for us.”
The delivery guy sighed, adjusted his grip, and started maneuvering the couch back out of the elevator.
I stepped aside to let them work, pulling my phone from the back pocket of my jeans when it buzzed.
MOM: Have you picked Mia up from school?
I stared at the message for a second.
Then I checked the time.
Three forty-seven.
My little sister got out of school at three fifteen.
I had moved out of my parents’ house exactly six hours ago.
ME: No. Because I moved to Redmont today. Remember?
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
MOM: Right. Sorry. I’m in between meetings. Your dad was supposed to get her.
I rubbed my forehead.
ME: Did you call him?
MOM: He’s in surgery. I’ll figure it out.
I typed You should have figured it out before three fifteen, then deleted it.
There was no point.
My mother was a corporate attorney who could negotiate multimillion-dollar contracts without blinking, but somehow arranging transportation for her eleven-year-old daughter remained a logistical nightmare.
My father was a surgeon whose schedule changed constantly.
And for the past several years, I’d been the person who filled in every gap.
School pickups. Homework. Dinner. Laundry. Dentist appointments. Birthday presents for classmates I’d never met.
If Mia needed something and my parents couldn’t do it, I did.
I loved my sister more than anything.
That didn’t mean I wanted to spend the rest of my life being her third parent.
Which was why I’d finally transferred to Redmont University after a year at community college.
A real campus. A real apartment. A chance to be nineteen instead of the person everyone called when something went wrong.
I was going to enjoy every second of it.
Assuming my couch survived the stairs.
“Hey, Avery?”
I looked up.
The delivery guy was standing beside the stairwell with his hands on his hips.
“Yeah?”
“You want to grab the door?”
I shoved my phone into my pocket.
“Sure. Anything else? Maybe you’d like me to carry the couch too?”
He blinked.
I smiled sweetly.
“Just checking.”
By seven that evening, my apartment looked like a storage unit had exploded.
There were boxes everywhere.
My mattress sat directly on the bedroom floor because the bed frame hadn’t arrived. Half my clothes were piled on top of it, my kitchen contained approximately four plates and a bottle of ketchup, and the couch had a small scrape along one corner that I was choosing not to acknowledge.
But it was mine.
All of it.
The living room was small but bright, with a wide window overlooking the parking lot and a little kitchen tucked along the far wall. The bedroom had enough space for a queen-sized bed, a dresser, and the desk I’d brought from home.
The bathroom was outdated, but the shower worked.
And best of all?
No one was going to walk through my door and ask me to make dinner.
I stood in the middle of the living room, hands on my hips, and smiled.
“Holy shit.”
I lived here.
Alone.
I pulled out my phone and called my best friend.
Sienna answered on the second ring.
“Tell me you’re officially moved in.”
“I’m officially moved in.”
She shrieked.
I winced and pulled the phone away from my ear.
“Oh my God. Avery! You’re actually there!”
“Unless I’ve hallucinated the last nine hours, yes.”
“Did the couch fit?”
“Eventually.”
“Did you cry?”
“Only a little.”
“Did your mom cry?”
I snorted. “My mom texted me to ask whether I’d picked Mia up from school.”
There was a pause.
“Are you serious?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Avery.”
“Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything. I’m just saying you literally moved out today.”
“I know.”
“And she still expected you to handle school pickup?”
“She forgot.”
Sienna made a disbelieving noise.
“Okay, well, you know what? Not your problem anymore.”
I glanced at the half-unpacked kitchen.
“That’s the plan.”
“Good. Because tomorrow we’re celebrating.”
I laughed. “We are?”
“Obviously. First weekend at Redmont. First apartment. First semester away from your parents. We’re going out.”
“Sienna, I have approximately eleven dollars.”
“You have a credit card.”
“That’s terrible financial advice.”
“And yet.”
I grinned.
Sienna Collins had been my best friend since sophomore year of high school, when she’d transferred into my English class, announced that our teacher looked like a divorced magician, and gotten us both detention before lunch.
She was blonde, loud, gorgeous, and incapable of entering a room without making friends.
She was also one of the few people who understood exactly why moving away mattered so much to me.
Sienna had been attending Redmont since freshman year. She lived in an apartment across campus with two other girls, and she’d spent the entire summer campaigning for me to transfer.
Now that I had, she was acting like she’d personally negotiated my admission.
“What time tomorrow?” I asked.
“Eight. I’ll come over first. We can get ready together.”
“Fine.”
“And wear something hot.”
“I always wear something hot.”
“Wear something hotter.”
I laughed. “Goodbye, Sienna.”
“Love you!”
“Love you.”
I ended the call and dropped onto my couch.
For a few minutes, I did nothing.
No boxes.
No unpacking.
No worrying about what needed to happen tomorrow.
Just me, my apartment, and the faint sound of traffic outside.
It was glorious.
Then my phone rang again.
MIA.
I answered immediately.
“Hey, squirt.”
“Avery!”
Her voice burst through the speaker, bright and excited.
“Are you at your apartment?”
“No, I’m living under a bridge.”
She giggled. “You’re so annoying.”
“It’s hereditary.”
“Can I see it?”
I switched to video.
Mia’s face filled the screen, all big green eyes and messy brown hair. She looked so much like me at her age that our mother sometimes complained she was raising the same child twice.
Except Mia was sweeter.
Usually.
I turned the camera toward the living room.
“Welcome to my luxurious estate.”
“Whoa.”
“Try not to be overwhelmed.”
“Why are there so many boxes?”
“Because your sister is a highly organized adult.”
“You don’t even have curtains.”
“Details.”
She laughed.
I showed her the kitchen, the bedroom, and the bathroom, carefully avoiding the pile of laundry I’d already created.
When I turned the camera back toward myself, she was smiling.
“I like it.”
“Me too.”
“Can I sleep over?”
“Obviously.”
“Next weekend?”
I hesitated.
Next weekend was my first full weekend after classes started. I’d been looking forward to doing absolutely whatever I wanted.
But Mia was looking at me with those hopeful eyes.
“We’ll figure something out,” I said.
“Mom said you might pick me up from skating next week.”
Of course she had.
“Did she?”
“Yeah. She said she has court stuff.”
My mother always had court stuff.
Mia took lessons twice a week at the university rink, partly because she’d fallen in love with skating the previous winter and partly because my parents preferred the program’s reputation to the smaller rink near their house.
Before transferring, I’d handled plenty of her pickups.
Apparently moving thirty minutes away hadn’t changed that.
“I’ll talk to Mom,” I told her.
“Okay.” She leaned closer to the camera. “Guess what?”
“What?”
“I almost landed my jump yesterday.”
My expression brightened.
“No way.”
“Yes way!”
“Did you get it on video?”
“Coach said I need to bend my knees more, but I was really close.”
“Then obviously your coach doesn’t know greatness when he sees it.”
Mia laughed.
“He’s actually really good.”
“Wow. Betrayal.”
“He plays hockey.”
“Congratulations to him.”
“And he’s really tall.”
“That’s usually how hockey players work.”
“Avery!”
“What?”
She rolled her eyes.
I smiled.
Mia talked for another ten minutes, telling me about school, her skating lessons, and the girl in her class who’d apparently stolen her favorite purple pen.
By the time we hung up, my chest had developed an uncomfortable ache.
I missed her.
I hadn’t expected that part to happen so quickly.
But missing Mia didn’t mean I’d made the wrong decision.
I knew that.
I just needed to remember it.
At nine thirty, I was sitting cross-legged on the living room floor eating Chinese takeout directly from the container when I heard the first thump.
I paused with a forkful of noodles halfway to my mouth.
Another thump followed.
Then laughter.
Then a door slammed.
I looked toward the wall separating my living room from the apartment next door.
Apartment 304.
I’d noticed the number earlier when I’d been hauling boxes down the hallway.
The door had been closed all afternoon.
Apparently its occupants had returned.
I shrugged and went back to my noodles.
People were allowed to make noise.
I wasn’t unreasonable.
At ten, music started.
Not loud enough to be a problem.
Just a steady bass line vibrating faintly through the wall.
At ten fifteen, someone shouted.
At ten thirty, the music got louder.
At ten forty-five, I could identify the song.
At eleven, my coffee table started vibrating.
I stared at it.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
A burst of laughter erupted from next door.
Then something hit the wall.
Hard.
I jumped.
“Seriously?”
No response.
Obviously.
I set down my food and stood.
Maybe it would stop.
Maybe whoever lived next door was just having a few friends over.
Maybe they were celebrating something.
Maybe—
A roar of male voices exploded through the wall.
I closed my eyes.
Nope.
Absolutely not.
I grabbed my phone and texted Sienna.
ME: Do you know who lives in 304?
Her response came almost immediately.
SIENNA: Why?
ME: Because apparently I’m sharing a wall with a nightclub.
SIENNA: LMAOOOO
ME: Not funny.
SIENNA: Is it a party?
ME: Either that or someone is hosting a professional screaming competition.
SIENNA: Go tell them to shut up.
I looked toward the wall.
Another round of shouting followed.
Someone yelled, “CHUG!”
I sighed.
ME: I might actually murder someone.
SIENNA: Don’t get arrested before our first girls’ night.
I tossed my phone onto the couch.
I could handle a little noise.
I’d grown up with an eleven-year-old sister who believed every song sounded better at maximum volume.
But there was a difference between normal apartment noise and whatever the hell was happening next door.
And I had been awake since six.
I was tired.
My entire body hurt from moving.
I still had boxes to unpack.
And I wasn’t spending my first night in my own apartment listening to a bunch of drunk idiots scream through the wall.
I slipped on my sneakers.
Then I marched into the hallway.
Apartment 304 was three steps away.
The music was even louder out here.
I could hear voices, laughter, and the unmistakable sound of someone arguing about beer pong.
I knocked.
Nothing.
I knocked harder.
Still nothing.
I pressed my lips together.
Then I started pounding.
“HELLO?”
The door finally swung open.
And—
Oh.
Well.
That was unfortunate.
Because the guy standing in front of me was ridiculously attractive.
Not regular attractive.
Not oh, he’s cute attractive.
No.
He was the kind of attractive that made you momentarily forget why you’d been preparing to commit a felony.
He was tall.
Really tall.
At least six-three, with broad shoulders, muscular arms, and dark brown hair that looked like he’d spent the entire evening running his hands through it.
He wore a black T-shirt that stretched across his chest, gray sweatpants, and a silver chain around his neck.
Tattoos covered part of his right forearm.
His jaw was sharp, his mouth was unfairly nice, and his brown eyes were fixed on me with an expression somewhere between curiosity and amusement.
For one extremely embarrassing second, I forgot what I was going to say.
Then he opened his mouth.
“Well, shit.”
I blinked.
He leaned against the doorframe.
“Didn’t know the entertainment was coming to us tonight.”
And just like that, the attraction disappeared beneath a fresh wave of irritation.
“Excuse me?”
His mouth curved.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes. You can turn your fucking music down.”
His eyebrows lifted.
Behind him, someone laughed.
I glanced past his shoulder.
The apartment was packed.
People crowded the living room, some sitting on the couch, others standing around a table covered in red plastic cups. A group of guys were arguing near the kitchen, and two girls were dancing beside the television.
A guy in a backward baseball cap walked past carrying a case of beer.
Wonderful.
My neighbor was apparently running a fraternity house.
The tall guy looked back at me.
“Sorry, what was that?”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Are you deaf?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“Whether you’re about to yell at me again.”
I stared at him.
He smiled.
I wanted to hit him with a shoe.
“Look,” I said, folding my arms. “I don’t care what you’re doing in here. Have your party. Drink your beer. Make whatever terrible decisions you want. But I just moved in next door, and your music is shaking my furniture.”
His gaze flicked toward apartment 305.
Then back to me.
“You’re the new neighbor?”
“Congratulations. You’ve solved the mystery.”
His smile widened.
“Didn’t know someone moved in.”
“Clearly.”
He tilted his head.
“What’s your name?”
“Why?”
“Because calling you Angry Girl from 305 seems a little impersonal.”
I gave him a flat look.
“You’re hilarious.”
“I’ve been told.”
“By people with head injuries?”
Someone behind him barked out a laugh.
The guy glanced over his shoulder.
“Fuck off, Mercer.”
A blond guy appeared beside him, grinning.
“Sorry, man. She’s got you there.”
I looked between them.
The blond was almost as tall, with bright blue eyes and the kind of smile that probably got him into trouble on a regular basis.
He held a red cup in one hand.
“Hey,” he said cheerfully. “I’m Logan.”
“Good for you.”
His grin widened.
“Oh, I like her.”
The dark-haired guy sighed.
“Can you go away?”
“Not really. This is the most interesting thing that’s happened all night.”
“That’s depressing,” I muttered.
Logan laughed again.
“What’s your name?”
“Avery.”
“Avery,” he repeated. “Nice to meet you. Sorry about the noise.”
“Thank you.”
I looked pointedly at the other guy.
“See? That wasn’t difficult.”
He placed a hand over his chest.
“I’m wounded.”
“You’ll survive.”
“Debatable.”
I exhaled sharply.
“Can you please just turn it down?”
For the first time, his expression shifted.
Not dramatically.
Just enough that the teasing faded.
He glanced toward the speakers.
“Yeah. All right.”
I blinked.
That had been surprisingly easy.
He turned his head.
“Carter!”
A tall guy with dark blond hair looked over from the kitchen.
“What?”
“Turn the music down.”
Carter glanced at me, then at the speakers.
“Yeah, got it.”
The volume dropped a moment later.
Significantly.
My shoulders relaxed.
“Thank you.”
The dark-haired guy looked back at me.
“Anything else?”
I considered him.
Then glanced at the crowded apartment.
“Maybe invest in some soundproofing.”
He smirked.
“Maybe invest in earplugs.”
My eyes narrowed.
“There he is.”
“Who?”
“The asshole I was talking to thirty seconds ago.”
Logan nearly choked on his drink.
The guy in the doorway laughed.
Actually laughed.
Not the obnoxious, mocking kind.
A real laugh that made his eyes crease slightly at the corners.
Which was annoying.
Because it made him even better-looking.
“You always this friendly?” he asked.
“Only when people deserve it.”
“Then I guess I should feel special.”
“You really shouldn’t.”
He leaned one shoulder against the frame.
“Come on. It’s Friday night.”
“I’m aware.”
“Most people are out having fun.”
“Most people aren’t being forced to attend your party through drywall.”
His grin returned.
“Could’ve just come over.”
I stared at him.
“Are you inviting me to the party I came over to complain about?”
“Seems like a waste to make the trip otherwise.”
“The trip was three steps.”
“Still.”
I shook my head.
“You are unbelievable.”
“Been told that too.”
“I’m starting to think people tell you a lot of things just to get you to stop talking.”
“Hasn’t worked yet.”
“Tragic.”
Behind him, Logan was openly laughing now.
Carter appeared a few feet away, taking in the scene with an expression of quiet amusement.
“Everything good?” he asked.
“Apparently our neighbor hates us,” the dark-haired guy said.
“Not all of you,” I corrected. “Just the one who keeps opening his mouth.”
Carter looked at me.
Then at him.
“Fair.”
“Oh, fuck you,” the guy muttered.
I smiled.
Finally.
Someone reasonable.
“Thank you for turning it down,” I told Carter.
“No problem. Sorry about that.”
“See?” I said again, looking at the dark-haired guy. “Two people in this apartment understand basic manners.”
He crossed his arms.
“Are you taking a survey?”
“Thinking about it.”
“Let me know the results.”
“Oh, you’ll be the first.”
His eyes moved over my face.
Something about the way he looked at me made my stomach do a small, irritating flip.
Not because he was being creepy.
He wasn’t.
He was just looking.
Like he was trying to decide whether I was genuinely pissed off or enjoying myself.
Unfortunately, the answer was both.
A girl appeared behind him.
Blonde.
Pretty.
Wearing a short black skirt and a fitted red top.
She slid an arm around his waist.
“Zach, babe, are you coming back?”
I looked at her hand.
Then at his face.
Zach.
Of course his name was Zach.
It suited him.
Short. Sharp. Annoying.
He glanced down at the girl.
“In a minute, Carrie.”
She followed his gaze to me.
Her smile thinned slightly.
“Oh.”
I raised my eyebrows.
Oh?
What the hell was oh supposed to mean?
Carrie looked back at Zach.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Neighbor came over about the music.”
Her gaze flicked toward my apartment door.
“Right.”
I could practically hear the judgment in that single word.
Fantastic.
I had lived here for less than twelve hours and had already become the building’s resident bitch.
Honestly, impressive.
“Well,” I said, stepping backward, “now that we’ve established everyone understands the concept of volume control, I’ll leave you to it.”
Zach’s eyes returned to mine.
“Aw. Leaving already?”
“Try not to miss me.”
“No promises.”
I gave him a sweet smile.
“Go fuck yourself, Zach.”
Logan made a strangled noise.
Carter looked away, shoulders shaking.
Zach just grinned.
“Sweet dreams, Avery.”
I turned toward my door.
Then stopped.
Slowly, I looked back.
He was still watching me.
Of course he was.
“And for the record?”
He lifted his eyebrows.
“If I have to come over here again tonight, I’m bringing a baseball bat.”
His smile widened.
“Should I be scared?”
“Absolutely.”
I walked into my apartment and slammed the door.
Not hard enough to damage it.
Just hard enough to make a point.
Then I stood there for a second.
Listening.
The music remained at a reasonable volume.
Thank God.
I slipped off my shoes and headed toward the couch.
My phone buzzed.
SIENNA: Well??? Did you murder anyone?
I dropped onto the cushions and started typing.
ME: Unfortunately no.
SIENNA: Boring.
ME: My neighbor is the biggest asshole I’ve ever met.
SIENNA: Hot asshole or ugly asshole?
I paused.
Looked toward the wall.
Then typed.
ME: Irrelevant.
Her reply came instantly.
SIENNA: OH MY GOD HE’S HOT
I groaned.
ME: He’s obnoxious.
SIENNA: So hot.
ME: Sienna.
SIENNA: How hot?
I stared at the screen.
Then sighed.
ME: Stupidly.
Three seconds later, my phone rang.
I answered.
“Don’t.”
Sienna screamed.
I pulled the phone away from my ear.
“Oh my God, Avery!”
“I’m hanging up.”
“No, you’re not. Tell me everything.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“There’s a hot neighbor.”
“An obnoxious hot neighbor.”
“Even better.”
“Absolutely not.”
She laughed.
“What’s his name?”
“Zach.”
There was a brief pause.
“Wait.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Zach?”
“Yes.”
“Tall? Dark hair? Tattoos?”
I sat up.
“How do you know that?”
Sienna went silent for a second.
Then—
“Oh, shit.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Avery.”
“What?”
“Please tell me his last name isn’t Hayes.”
I stared toward the wall.
I hadn’t asked his last name.
Why would I?
I had been too busy considering homicide.
“I don’t know,” I said slowly. “Why?”
Sienna started laughing.
Not a normal laugh.
The kind that meant something terrible was happening and she was enjoying every second of it.
“Sienna.”
“Oh my God.”
“Tell me.”
“Babe.”
“What?”
“I think your obnoxious hot neighbor is Zach Hayes.”
I waited.
“And?”
“And he’s the starting left wing for the Redmont Ravens.”
I blinked.
“The what?”
“The hockey team, Avery.”
“Oh.”
“The hockey team.”
I glanced at the wall again.
Somewhere on the other side, a group of guys erupted into laughter.
Of course.
Of fucking course.
My first night at Redmont University, and I’d already threatened one of its star hockey players with a baseball bat.
I rubbed my forehead.
“Well,” I said, “he should’ve turned his music down.”
Sienna burst out laughing.
And despite myself, I smiled.
Because honestly?
I didn’t care if Zach Hayes was the best hockey player in Minnesota.
If he kept me awake again, I was going to make his life miserable.
I had absolutely no idea how often I’d end up seeing him.
Or how much trouble that mouth of his was going to cause me.
But one thing was already certain.
Zach Hayes and I were not going to get along.
