Chapter Nine
One Wrong Door
“…Isla?”
Everything hurt.
“…Isla…”
The voice drifted though the darkness, soft enough that she almost thought she’d imagined it.
Low.
Warm.
Steady.
Like the first sip of coffee on a cold morning.
“…Can you hear me?“
A careful hand brushed against her shoulder.
Not shaking.
Not grabbing.
Just enough pressure to gently coax her awake.
“Come on…”
The voice exhaled a shaky breath. “Please wake up.”
If this was heaven…
It had an incredible voice.
And remarkably nice hands.
Pain bloomed across her forehead in slow, pulsing waves. A dull ache that spread behind her eyes until even breathing seemed like entirely too much work.
She groaned.
Immediately, the voice exhaled again.
This one sounded relieved.
“Oh, thank God.”
Silence followed.
Not awkward silence.
The kind that came after someone had been holding their breath far longer than they realized.
“I thought I killed you.”
Killed her?
Well…
That didn’t sound particularly heavenly.
Isla forced one eye open.
The room tilted.
Blurred.
Then slowly settled back into focus.
A pair of worried dark eyes stared back at her.
Really worried.
Not polite concern.
Not Oops, my bad concern.
Full-blown, I’m about to spend the rest of my life in prison because I accidentally murdered my sister’s best friend with a bedroom door concern.
Ellis Mann.
His dark hair stuck up in several directions, as though he’d run both hands through it a dozen times already. One knee rested beside her while the other was folded awkwardly beneath him, his body frozen somewhere between helping and not wanting to make things worse.
He looked…
Scared.
Actually scared.
Not for himself.
For her.
“…Hi,” she croaked.
Relief washed over his face so quickly it almost made her feel guilty.
“So you know your name.”
She blinked.
“…What?”
He nodded once, mostly to himself.
“Good.”
Another blink.
Then suspicion.
“…Are you testing me?”
His ears turned the faintest shade of pink.
“I…”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“…may have looked up what to do if someone gets knocked unconscious.”
She stared at him.
“You Googled it?”
“I wasn’t exactly prepared for this situation.”
“Is ‘accidentally concussing your roommate’ not covered in the welcome packet Arie undoubtedly handed you?”
The corner of his mouth twitched.
“I must’ve skipped that page.”
Despite the pounding in her head, Isla felt the smallest smile tugging at her lips.
Then her brain finally caught up with reality.
Ellis Mann was hovering approximately six inches from her face.
Very attractive face.
Very dark eyes.
Very unfair amount of woodsy cologne.
Why did he smell so—
Abort mission.
She bolted upright.
Ellis instinctively leaned forward to steady her.
Thunk.
Their foreheads collided with a crack loud enough to echo down the hallway.
Ellis stumbled backward, landing squarely on the hardwood floor.
“Oh, come on,” he groaned.
“What the hell?” Isla yelped, clutching the rapidly growing knot on her forehead.
Ellis pressed a hand against his own head.
“I cannot believe I just did that again.”
For several long second, neither of them moved. They simply sat there. Each clutching their foreheads. Each silently reconsidering every decision that had led to this exact moment.
What. A. Disaster.
Then Isla remembered two horrifying facts.
First…
She was still wearing the stained gray sleep shorts she’d owned since college and an oversized white T-shirt she’d stole from and ex whose name she’d probably forgotten.
An icon of elegance.
Second…
She was sitting on her bedroom floor.
With Ellis Mann.
On his first official morning as her roommate.
If she had it her way, they’d be groaning on her bedroom floor for reasons that had nothing to do with traumatic brain injuries.
Preferably while wearing significantly less clothes.
Dear God.
Was she flirting with a concussion?
Her traitorous brain chose that exact moment to paint the picture in vivid unnecessary detail.
Nope.
Absolutely not.
She mentally grabbed the image by its ankles and threw it straight into the East River.
No fantasizing.
Well…
Minimal fantasizing.
The man had been living under the same roof for approximately twelve minutes, and she’d already imagined him shirtless twice.
This was how the Rule unraveled.
Not with sex.
One harmless thought at a time.
Isla pushed herself to her feet, immediately regretting it as the room tipped slightly to the left.
“Whoa.”
She caught herself for the bedpost until the dizziness settled.
“You okay?” Ellis was on his feet in an instant. His hand lifted instinctively toward her elbow before stopping halfway.
“Sorry.” He let it fall back to his side.
“You should probably sit back down.”
That…
Was surprisingly considerate.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I’ve always looked like this.”
A tiny laugh escaped him before he could stop it.
“I meant the swaying.”
“Oh.”
She glanced down at the floor, testing her balance.
“I‘ll survive.”
“I should probably insist on taking you to urgent care.”
“And explain what?”
She slipped effortlessly into her customer service voice.
“Hi, yes. My new roommate accidentally tried to murder me before breakfast.”
Ellis pinched the bridge of his nose.
“When you say it like that…”
“Because that’s exactly what happened.”
“I opened the wrong door.”
“You weaponized it.”
“It wasn’t intentional.”
“Manslaughter rarely is.”
He let out a defeated sigh, followed by a chuckle.
“I don’t think we’re ever going to agree on this.”
“No.”
A beat.
“…Probably not.”
Silence settled between them.
Not uncomfortable.
Just…new.
Two strangers trying to figure out how to exist in the same space after the least graceful introduction in recorded history.
Finally, Isla cleared her throat.
“So…”
“So…”
“I’d really like to put on a bra.”
Ellis’s eyes widened.
“Oh.” He tried not to look down.
“Which generally requires privacy.” She raises an eyebrow.
“Right.”
“Unless we’re moving much faster into this roommate situation than I anticipated.”
A joke, calm down.
Color immediately climbed his neck.
“I’ll…go.”
“I think that’s for the best.”
He back toward the doorway, somehow managing to look both embarrassed and amused.
“I’m really sorry and I’ll probably spend the rest of my life apologizing for this.”
She folded her arms across her chest.
“I’ll probably remind you of it for the rest of your life.”
That earned the first genuine smile she’s seen from him.
I transformed his entire face.
Great.
As if the universe hadn’t already stacked enough odds against her.
“Fair enough,” he said.
He reached the doorway before hesitating.
“If your head starts hurting worse…or you get nauseous…or feel dizzy again…”
“I’ll tell you.”
He studied her for another second, as though debating whether to say something else.
Instead, he simply nodded.
“I’ll be across the hall.”
Then he quietly pulled the bedroom door closed behind him.
The soft click echoes through the room.
Isla stared at the door for several seconds. Then she let out the breath she’d apparently been. Holding.
“Oh, you’re in trouble.” She muttered to herself.
Not because Ellis has walked into the wrong bedroom.
Not because she’d nearly suffered a concussion.
Not even because she’d already imagined kissing him.
No.
She was in trouble because he apologized.
Twice.
He’d checked to make sure she knew her own name.
He’d worried enough to Google concussion symptoms.
And when she’d shake she wanted privacy…
He hasn’t hesitated.
He simply given it to her.
She closed her eyes.
“Oh, this is so much worse that I thought.”
Because she knew exactly how this story usually went.
She fell for men who made promises.
The dangerous ones…
Where the men who quietly kept them.
