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My breathing picks up the longer I stare at him, worrying me. I’ve never had a reaction like this to anyone. I’ve slept with two lads in my life, and the second I’m still dating. Although I had chemistry with both, neither made me feel the way this guy does. It’s empowering, and already I’m addicted.
The door slamming startles me, and I shake my head to clear my thoughts of the lad standing in front of me. It takes all my strength to look away. When I do, his friend turns, jumping slightly when he sees Allie and I standing there, side by side, staring at them both.
Great! They probably think we’re stalkers right now and will put in for a transfer—or a restraining order.
“Well, helloooo, beautiful ladies. What can we do for you?” the softer looking lad asks, his cheeky grin reaching his eyes.
My gaze flicks to the broody lad once more, and as if lightning has struck me, a wave of electricity runs through my body when his eyes capture mine, and for a brief, stolen moment, it’s just me and him. I’m actually struggling to breathe, and the fact this other guy wants me to string together a sentence is a horrifying nightmare.
“I, um, I’m Allie—no, I’m Willow.” I exhale, shaking my head, more to myself than at him. “This is my best friend, Allie. We just moved in,” I tell them, motioning to the door behind us.
“Cool beans. We live here.” He points to the door behind him using the same stiff action as me, but with a smirk. “I’m CJ. This moody prick here is Liam, but call him Cole.”
“Hey.” I wave dumbly at him, my heart picking up once again when I notice him watching me intently. I have to look away quickly, my cheeks heating when I feel his gaze is still on me.
No one has ever made me feel so on edge like this before or stunned me into a babbling mess. I can talk most people under the table. There’s never any awkwardness when I’m around to fill in the silence, but right now, I’m wishing Allie would help me out and say something witty, anything at all really, just to show we’re normal.
When CJ looks at Allie, his eyes flash with something I don’t recognise. It’s gone almost instantly, but it was definitely there.
“Hey,” Allie whispers, and I watch nervously as she pushes her glasses up her nose and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Self-consciously, I let out a snort mixed with a giggle as I eye my best friend. She’s a nervous and shy person normally, but this is new. And it’s because of CJ. Straight off the bat, I can tell she likes him already. She only ever cares about her appearance when she likes someone. It’s her tell. Any other time, she doesn’t care what she looks like or what people think about her.
When her angry glare snaps to me, I straighten, instantly feeling bad for embarrassing her. Sometimes it’s hard to control my reactions to things. Once, I was being told off by the headteacher at school, and I was so intimidated, I started laughing. Not because I found anything funny, but because the situation was so awkward, it was either laugh or cry.
“Well, we… Um… We should get inside,” I announce, smiling politely. My gaze flicks to Cole once more. He’s still staring intently at me, a scowl on his face, like he’s trying hard to reach into my soul. The look unnerves me so much I begin shifting on my feet.
“If you ever need anything—sugar, milk, bread—knock on the door downstairs. We never have shit in unless creature of the night here goes shopping,” CJ jokes. “I only have to think about doing something domestic and I break out in a rash.”
Cole grunts, not too pleased with his friend, and I can’t help but smile. They remind me of Allie and myself. They’re total opposites, but fit.
CJ reminds me of myself: easy-going, fun, and the loud one of the group. His eyes are dark, and due to the dim lighting in the hallway, I can’t tell if they’re hazel or brown. His hair is jet black, which compliments his tanned skin tone. It also makes his pearly whites stand out. They’re so freaking white, I’m debating whether it’s rude to ask him who his dentist is.
“We’ll remember that. But the same goes for you. If you ever need anything—sugar, milk,” I repeat, grinning. “Just knock on the door. Allie has a thing about being stocked up on necessities in case of a zombie apocalypse.”
“Willow,” Allie hisses under her breath.
“Oh crap! No, you can’t. Not yet anyway. We haven’t had time to do a food shop.”
CJ throws his head back and laughs. I watch, enjoying the sound and the look on his handsome face. When he gains his composure, his eyes flick once again to Allie, a light sparking in them, which intrigues me more. He doesn’t seem to hide it this time either. Turning to gauge Allie’s reaction, I’m not surprised to find her blushing, her head down.
“Walking Deadmarathons round yours then?” CJ smirks, his eyes still on Allie. Her head snaps up at that, and I grin. She tried to make me watch that show, but with all that blood and gore, my stomach couldn’t handle it. Plus, she can’t just watch it once; she’ll watch reruns over and over.
The lift dings, announcing its stop on our floor, and we all turn as the doors open. Logan and Jamie step out, talking to each other in low voices. When they look up, the atmosphere in the hallway thickens. Tension radiates off all the lads, and instinctively, I seek out Cole. I’m confused when I find his eyes narrowed dangerously on Logan.
Apart from Allie, I’ve yet to meet a person who doesn’t like Logan. Yes, he had a few girlfriends—or rather, fuck buddies—turn on him in the past, but I was never a witness to that. And to be fair, most of them expected more from him than he was willing to give. But he was always upfront from the very beginning.
Things go from bad to worse when Logan opens his mouth. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he growls.
What the fuck!
“Logan,” I snap, furious at him for being so rude. “These are our neighbours, CJ and Liam.”
Hoping he hears the clear warning in my voice, I pray he plays nice. I turn to my new neighbours, offering them an apologetic look. Cole seems to be looking at me with a mixture of disappointment and revulsion, while CJ has his eyes narrowed on Logan and Jamie. I can understand Jamie—the guy looks freaking shifty—but I don’t understand his hostility towards my best friend.
“I know who they are, babe,” Logan assures me, a bite to his voice.
Babe? Who the fucking hell is he calling babe? It had better not be me. That term of endearment grates on my nerves. It’s the pet name most lads use for their women because they can’t be arsed to just say her name.
