The Man Upstairs
The first thing I learned about the man who lived upstairs was that he hated noise.
The second thing I learned was that I was apparently very, very noisy.
Not intentionally.
Mostly.
“Come on, come on…”
I pushed my shoulder against the door of my new apartment while balancing three boxes, a handbag, and an enormous vase of white roses against my hip.
The door refused to cooperate.
“Please don’t do this to me.”
I pushed harder.
The door flew open.
So did the box in my arms.
Flowers went everywhere.
I stared at the disaster scattered across the floor.
“Perfect.”
A man’s voice came from behind me.
“Do you usually attack your furniture on the first day?”
I froze.
Slowly, I turned around.
And forgot how breathing worked.
He was standing at the top of the staircase.
Tall.
Ridiculously tall.
Dark hair slightly messy, sleeves of his white shirt rolled to his forearms, one hand resting casually against the railing.
His expression was calm.
Too calm.
His eyes moved from me…
To the flowers…
Then back to me.
“Are you going to help?” I asked.
One eyebrow lifted.
“I was considering whether this was an emergency.”
“It is.”
“How?”
“I’m dying.”
He looked genuinely concerned for half a second.
Then his mouth curved.
“From embarrassment?”
I narrowed my eyes.
“I already dislike you.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
He walked down the stairs.
Every step somehow made him more intimidating.
When he reached me, he bent down and picked up one of the roses.
“You’re new.”
“Obviously.”
“Apartment 2B?”
“Obviously.”
“Elowen?”
I blinked.
“How do you know my name?”
“Your name is on the mailbox.”
“Oh.”
Brilliant.
Absolutely brilliant.
He handed me the rose.
“Zevran.”
I looked at him.
“That’s your name?”
“Last time I checked.”
I tried not to smile.
Failed.
“That’s an unusual name.”
“So is Elowen.”
“Mine is pretty.”
His eyes lingered on mine.
“Mine too.”
For some reason, my heart skipped.
I immediately looked away.
“Thank you for the flower.”
“You’re welcome.”
He turned to leave.
Then stopped.
“And Elowen?”
“Yes?”
“Try not to destroy the building.”
I smiled sweetly.
“No promises.”
His quiet laugh followed him upstairs.
And somehow…
I knew I was going to regret meeting him.
