Chapter One
Oliver
I wish they could pump music right into your brain. Then I wouldn’t have my hand buried deep inside my couch right now.
I refuse to buy new AirPods, even if that means losing my hand to the dark, dusty world under my couch. A worthy sacrifice it would be. I continue to wiggle my fingers and touch something small and hard. I take it out, feeling relieved.
An eraser? When was the last time I even used one?
I throw it over my head. Future Oliver’s problem to deal with. Come to think of it, that might be the reason the current Oliver is fighting dust and mysterious stickiness off his hands right now. Future Oliver just isn’t a very reliable person.
Going in again, I finally dig out the bud that must have fallen out when I fell asleep on the couch. I thump my fist in the air, victorious at last and very late for my inspiration walk on the roof. It’s already dark.
I slip it safely in the pocket of my sweatpants, tapping ittwice to make sure it’s tucked in deep. I finish tying my half-done laces, a task that got bumped the second I realized an AirPod was missing. Then I kill the light, grab my keys, and book it out of my apartment.
I’m closing the door behind me when I notice a walking gym membership making his way towards me. His blonde hair is styled to perfection, and he flashes me a preppy smile. He glances at my apartment door while I stupidly stare, confused.
Then he makes a sharp turn to the door directly opposite mine.
Of course. My neighbor's new flavor of the day. Now that I think about it, this guy is barely distinguishable from the rotating door of beefcakes that come through here every week. I’m mid-eye-roll, my feet already on their way to the elevator, when the door across the hall opens.
I force my head to look straight.
Nothing good can come from looking at Matthew “Call Me Matt” Hale. He’s a masterpiece, carved to the specifications of some particularly dirty wet dreams of every queer man (and most women, I’m sure). If I didn’t know he was a firefighter, I would have thought he lived at the gym.
Built at well over six feet, the guy is a giant in front of his hookup, who is about my height. His wide shoulders take up almost the entire doorway. His arms could easily fold anyone in half and ruin spines. Not that I’m volunteering.
His long, tanned neck, jawline that could cut glass, sculpted cheekbones, and inky black hair that’s artistically mussed like he spends hours styling it into effortless waves make his existence all the more unfair.
I’m still shamelessly looking him over when I notice the hallway’s gone quiet. Too quiet. My eyes snap to his warmbrown ones.
“See something you like?” he drawls, one of his extremely expressive eyebrows cocks up.
I crinkle my nose. “That will be a definitive no,” I say primly.
He leans against the doorframe, folding his hands across his chest. My eyes drag through his bulging biceps. The sleeves of his plain black T-shirt beg for mercy.
“You wound me, Oliver. After that awfully thorough inspection, I’d have at least expected a ‘maybe.’” His low voice is all honey.
“What can I say? That unique asshole charm might be wearing off,” I snark.
“Or is it getting a little too irresistible?” Mr. Chin-and-Jawline tilts his head, his intense eyes trained on me.
My heartbeat picks up. That’s enough of that, thank you very much.
“Don’t you have things to do? People to entertain?” I say, looking at the guy now standing awkwardly on the side of Matt’s door.
His eyes follow mine, and he straightens up, like he just remembered the guy he invited over tosleepwith him is here too. Matt opens the door wider and gestures for the other man to walk inside.
But Matt doesn’t follow him in. He comes right back out, this time leaning back against the wall. Picture of casualness, this guy.
“So, going for your little walk? There are easier ways to tire yourself out, you know?”
“Like talking to you? A few more seconds and I might fall asleep right here, Matt,” I smirk, so proud of the comeback.
Matt assesses me head to toe, his gaze like a physical touch. I trample a shiver trying to escape. “Looking at you, I’d say you’ll definitely need to go to bed after this conversation.”
My jaw drops at the implication. I narrow my eyes, and Matt huffs out a laugh, his dimples popping.
