Accidentally Yours
Arrival & Shock
T he key clacked in the lock with a metallic echo that bounced against the narrow hallway walls.
Harper adjusted the strap of her overstuffed duffel bag and took a steadying breath.
New city, new job, new lease—literally. She had promised herself this would be a fresh start.
No more toxic relationships, no more couch surfing, no more “temporary” anything.
She had found the listing online—clean, affordable, and shared with a seemingly sweet roommate named Melissa.
The photos had looked promising: warm string lights in the living room, a tidy kitchen with mismatched mugs, and, most importantly, a spacious bedroom she could finally call her own.
When the door swung open, the first thing she noticed wasn’t string lights. It was a bare chest.
A very male, very toned, very unexpected bare chest.
“Uh—hi?” the stranger said, his brows shooting up as he leaned casually against the doorframe. His voice carried the kind of lazy amusement that suggested he had been expecting a pizza delivery, not a wide-eyed girl with two suitcases and a plant she called Fred.
Harper blinked. Words scrambled in her throat like panicked fish. “I—sorry—um—I think I have the wrong apartment.”
The man’s grin widened, as if he enjoyed watching her squirm. “This is 3B. Unless the numbers changed overnight, you’re in the right place.”
Her stomach dropped. She checked her crumpled lease papers, heart hammering in her chest. 3B. Exactly. “But... Melissa?”
“Ah.” His tone shifted, an almost sympathetic note threading through the humor. “Yeah. Melissa moved out last week. I’m her brother. Ethan.”
Brother. Not Melissa. Not the quiet, tidy roommate she’d imagined. Instead, she was staring at six feet of lean muscle, unruly dark hair, and the cockiest smile she’d ever seen.
Ethan stepped aside, gesturing with a sweep of his arm. “Guess that makes me your new roommate.”
Harper froze in the doorway. This wasn’t the plan. The plan had included cozy nights in, shared takeout menus, maybe girly movie marathons with Melissa. Not testosterone, not abs, not trouble with a capital T.
Her plant, Fred, wobbled dangerously in her grip. “There must be a mistake.”
“No mistake,” Ethan said easily, plucking the papers from her hand before she could protest. His gaze skimmed them, then he nodded. “Lease is in order. Rent paid. Looks like you’re stuck with me.”
She snatched the pages back, her cheeks burning. “You can’t just decide to be my roommate. Don’t you think someone should have told me?”
He leaned against the wall, clearly enjoying himself. “Would you have signed the lease if you knew Melissa had skipped town and left her charming, handsome brother in her place?”
The nerve. The arrogance. The way her stomach flipped in a way she definitely didn’t want to analyze.
Harper shoved past him into the apartment, muttering, “Handsome is debatable.”
“Charming though?” he called after her, laughter lacing his words.
She didn’t answer, too busy scanning the apartment for evidence of Melissa’s existence.
The string lights were gone, the girly touches replaced by sneakers by the couch and a guitar propped in the corner.
A faint smell of coffee lingered, mixed with some woodsy cologne that clung to the air like a challenge.
Fred drooped pitifully as she set him on the counter. Harper planted her hands on her hips. “This is not what I signed up for.”
Ethan shrugged, rummaging in the fridge as if she weren’t having a full existential crisis in his kitchen. “Life’s full of surprises. Could be worse, right?”
She shot him a sharp glare. “How, exactly?”
He turned, holding up a carton of orange juice, grin infuriatingly wide. “Could’ve been some creep. Lucky for you, I’m housebroken.”
Harper groaned. This was going to be a long lease.