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“Pizza!” a voice calls from the other side of the door that Luka is still inspecting. Of course, he’d arrive now.
Luka opens the door and scowls at the delivery man. It’s Joey. He’s a grad student at NYU and works part time at the pizza joint down the street.
“Oh. Uh, is Avery here?” Joey asks, leaning to the side to look around Luka’s hulking form.
“I’m here!” I raise my hand and wave as I hurry to the door. Luka blocks me, shoving me behind him.
“Is that her pizza?” Luka points to the box in Joey’s hands.
“Yeah… Avery, everything okay?” Joey’s not built like Luka, but he’s no shrinking violet.
“Everything is fine.” Luka takes the pizza from Joey’s hands and slides it onto the kitchen counter before grabbing his wallet from his back pocket.
“I have money.” I try to wiggle my arm around Luka to hand Joey the twenty-dollar bill I’ve now squished in my fist.
“Here.” Luka hands over what looks like a fifty. “Keep the change.” Before Joey can even thank him, he shuts the door on him.
“I can pay for my own dinner.” I wave my twenty at Luka when he turns back around.
His darkened eyes wander over me, like he’s really seeing me now. My skin heats beneath his scrutiny, and I wish I’d put on leggings instead of these shorts. Why does it feel like I’m being touched when he stares at me like that?
“How did you even find me?” I pull on my shorts, trying to yank them down another inch. It’s cool outside, but my apartment is always at least fifteen degrees warmer than I want it to be. The thermostat busted a month ago, and the landlord hasn’t gotten around to fixing it yet.
“Your boss.” He looks around my shoebox. “This is where you live?” He sheds his jacket and tosses it on the counter next to the pizza box.
“Yes.” I raise my chin. It’s tiny as fuck, but it’s mine.
“Your bed is in your living room.” He points to the twin bed pushed against the far wall beneath the windows. It looks more like a college dorm than an apartment, but if I sprung for the larger bed, it would have eaten up precious square footage. And I don’t have any to spare.
“Why are you here?” I fist my hands. “And why won’t you leave?”
He walks around the space to the windows and checks the locks on them. The first one fails to hold the window, but at least the second one gives a little resistance before unlatching.
“This isn’t going to do,” he announces.
I’m ready to yank out my hair. Does he even know I’m still in the room?
“What are you talking about? What do you want?” I raise my voice, because so far, he’s completely ignored me.
This gets his attention and he turns back to me, both brows raised. “Are you yelling at me?”
I might die of hysterics before I get a straight answer from this man. “Yes.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t?”
“Yes. Don’t raise your voice.”
My stomach grumbles. The thick aroma of the pizza has alerted my body that there’s food close by, and I haven’t eaten since the pretzel at the bar this afternoon.
“You’re hungry.” Of course he’d heard it.
“Why are you here?” I ask again, fists at my sides.
“You ran away this afternoon,” he says as though it’s the obvious answer.
“Are you here to k-kill me?” I wish I had a stronger voice, but with his dark eyes and all his muscle, I’m not exactly confident I’d survive a fight with him.
