Kaylor
“Last box, thank God,” I muttered to myself, shoving the cardboard into the corner of my new room.
The apartment smelled like fresh paint, and I was already sweating through my tank top. New city, new start, new roommate; Aaron. Some guy I’d only emailed about splitting the electricity bill. No face, no voice, just a name. Aaron.
“Hey, you Kaylor?” a deep voice called from the hallway.
I jerked and froze, halfway through kicking off my sneakers, and peeked out my open door. There he was— tall, dark wavy hair falling messily over his forehead, a black tee hugging his defined chest and shoulders, and a gym bag slung over one arm. Holy s**t, he was gorgeous!
“Uh, yeah, Kaylor, hi,” I said, stepping into the hall, suddenly wishing I’d worn something cuter than this wretched tank t
