Page 5 of Meet Me at the Metro

As I approach the bathroom, the door swings open without warning. An abrupt force—tall and hard—slams into me, knocking the breath out of me. I fall back onto the floor, along with all of my things. A set of piercing gray-blue eyes lock with mine as I glance up, and my heart starts beating dangerously in my chest.

Man.

This is definitely a man in front of me.

I’m sure of that much as I take notice of the prominent ridges of his large shoulders and the tall, brawny build of his body. His dark blonde hair is tousled and styled messily on the top of his head, and there’s a light stubble against his defined jawline. The forest green shade of his t-shirt reminds me of the pine trees back home, and I try not to linger on how nicely it fits over his broad torso—or the size of his brown leather ankle boots and how well they complement the dark wash of his jeans.

Black tattoos snake up and down the length of both of his arms and as my eyes follow their inky trails, I attempt not to let the sudden tug of intimidation radiating off of him take hold of me.

“You okay?” he checks, offering out his hand.

I force myself to snap out of my thoughts and reach out to take it, but I can barely see anything other than the silhouette of his massive body as it crouches in front of me. My arm accidentally catches the strap of the cross-body bag slung against his shoulder, pulling it, along with all its contents, onto the floor.

Piles of music sheets spill all around me.

“Dammit,”he curses, dropping to his knees.

I scramble off the floor quickly and try to help him clean up the mess we’ve made—technically, I made—but one of the papers slips between my fingertips, its thin edge searing my skin.

“Ow,”I hiss.

The page drops back down against the floor as a trickle of blood drops from my finger. I watch with horror as it lands on the paper and seeps into it.

No.

No. No. No.

He abruptly yanks the music sheet from my vicinity. “Are you kidding me?”

“I’m so sorry.”

With my other, unscathed hand, I attempt to help him pick up the mess once more, but he’s not having it one bit. “Could you, please, just fucking stop?”

The blunt request is like a wound to my chest, shocking me and leaving me completely speechless.

I was trying to help…

But I do as he so rudely requests andfucking stop. I gather all of my things before standing, forcing my trembling hands still before I attempt to apologize again. “Look, I really am sorry. I wasn’t paying attention when I came out of the bedroom and—”

“Obviously,” he interrupts, rising off the floor.

“You don’t have to be an ass. I said I was sorry. I didn’t mean to spill your shit.”

“Shit?”he scoffs.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

He looks me up and down, his eyes leaving a trail of scorching heat along my body. “Who the hell even are you?”

“Oh,nowyou want to exchange introductions?” I narrow my eyes at him, crossing my arms along my chest as my remorse transitions into disbelief at his crassness. “I’m Eleanor, you dick. The new roommate.”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course you are. My name’s pronouncedTheo, by the way. Not dick.”

“You know, you think you’d play a little nicer to your friends’ new guest?”

“You mean the one who spilled my music and bled all over it… and then proceeded to refer to it as shit?”

“I was trying to help.”

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