The sunlight streamed through the thin blinds, stripes of gold cutting across my face. I groaned, rolling onto my side. My body ached from the thin, lumpy mattress that was already threatening to ruin my back.

Reaching for my phone, my bleary eyes widened at the screen: twelve missed calls from Liam. Three from Valerie. None from my dad. Of course. His pride would never allow him to call, not even if he was worried.

I blinked at the time. 10:20.

“Shit!”

My first class at Willow Creek Community College had started twenty minutes ago. The one-year arts program I’d fought for. My chance at freedom. And here I was, already late on day one.

I shot up, panic flooding me. I hadn’t even set an alarm, no housekeeper to rattle me awake, no hovering staff. Just me, alone, failing before I’d even begun.

Rummaging through my open suitcase on the floor, I flung clothes out with increasing desperation. Louis Vuitton skirt, too flashy. Gone. Corduroy jacket, too tacky. Gone. Silk blouse, who was I trying to impress, Picasso? Out. Clothes flew everywhere until I settled on a simple gown I’d bought during a family trip to France. Nothing fancy, but at least it didn’t scream heiress.

I grabbed it and rushed into the bathroom only to stop dead at the sight before me.

An ancient tub with rust stains and a lone showerhead drooping above it. A lopsided sink. A toilet bowl missing its cover. And a cracked mirror so smudged it looked like a crime scene prop.

“Perfect,” I muttered under my breath.

Fine. If I couldn’t shower, I’d at least brush my teeth. Except of course the toothbrush wasn’t in my bag. I tore through my toiletry kit, praying it had just slipped to the bottom. No luck.

My options? Go to class unbrushed, or… borrow one. From the grumpy neighbor.

Wrapping my robe tighter, I padded down the hall and knocked on his door. Once. Twice. Four times, harder each time. Finally, it swung open.

And just like that, my brain short circuited.

He stood there shirtless, only in boxer briefs that left very little to the imagination. A very distracting bulge pressed against the fabric, and I forgot how to breathe.

“My face is up here, princess,” he drawled, voice rough from sleep.

Heat exploded across my cheeks. I jerked my gaze upward, only to find him smirking like he knew exactly where my eyes had been. Which, unfortunately, he did.

“I, um…” Words scrambled in my throat. “I need a toothbrush. I don’t think I packed mine.”

He leaned lazily against the doorframe, running a hand through his already tousled hair, somehow making it look intentional. “So, what you’re telling me is that in that giant suitcase you dragged up the stairs yesterday, there’s not a single toothbrush in it?”

My patience frayed. “I’m running late for class. I don’t have time for your sarcasm. Just, please. If you have a spare, I’ll replace it later.”

He studied me for a beat, then disappeared back inside. When he returned, he held out a brand-new toothbrush.

“Here. Keep it,” he said. Then his gaze flicked to my head, and a grin tugged at his lips. “But you might want to do something about your hair before you step outside like that.”

My stomach dropped. Oh no. My hair.

I patted it frantically, realizing the curls had frizzed into a wild halo. Normally, I straightened it every morning. But without a working mirror… perks of being mixed.

I forced a smile, mortified. “Right. Um, can I borrow your mirror real quick? After I get dressed?”

He shrugged, all faux-casual charm. “Sure, princess. Hopefully I’ll be dressed by then too.”

I glared. “Don’t call me princess. My name is Aria.”

Rolling my eyes, I stomped back to my apartment, brushing my teeth as I wrestled into the dress. Thank God for scarves, I tugged one from my bag to cover the disaster on my head.

When I knocked on his door again, I muttered a quick prayer that he’d be fully dressed this time.

The universe half listened.

He opened the door wearing jeans but still shirtless.

“Come in,” he said. “Bathroom’s down the hall.”

I stepped inside, surprised. His apartment wasn’t the disaster I expected. It was spotless, everything neatly arranged. The faint aroma of coffee wrapped around me, and my stomach growled loudly in betrayal. Maybe, just maybe, if fate was merciful, my grumpy neighbor would offer me a cup.

The thought almost made me laugh at myself as I slipped into the bathroom. Finally facing a decent mirror, I tied the scarf neatly around my curls. Presentable. Ish.

My eyes strayed, taking in the look of his bathroom which was squeaky clean like the rest of his apartment. How come the utilities in his bathroom look more modernized than the one in mine. I made a mental note to take it up with the landlord after school.

The bathroom smelt of his aftershave, which was on the sink along with some facial products only a lady would use because he obviously did not strike me as a skin care type of guy. So either he had a sister or a girlfriend, prayers for who ever decided to put up with him.

I stiffened as I felt him lean against the doorframe, his presence filling the small space, and cutting through my thoughts before I even saw him.

“Why cover it up, princess?” His voice was softer this time, almost curious.

I clenched my jaw. That name was getting under my skin.

“None of your business, grumpy,” I shot back, turning and nearly collided chest-first into him.

My pulse skipped. He smelled faintly of soap and coffee. Dangerous combination.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a class to run to.” I sidestepped him, reaching for the door handle.

I paused and glanced back. “Thanks again… um?”

He tilted his head, amused. “Jace. But grumpy works just fine, princess.” He winked.

I groaned, rolling my eyes again as I stepped out. “For the last time, stop calling me princess!”

But his chuckle followed me all the way back to my apartment, warm and irritating all at once.