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The smell of Strawberry Pound Cake drifted through my apartment, curling around every corner like a warm blanket. It blended with the soft glow of morning sun spilling in through the blinds, setting the place in this warm, cozy haze that made everything feel just... right. My fingers brushed over the smooth surface of my essential oils, and I added a bit more lavender into the diffuser, cranking it up so the scent could settle deeper into the walls.

"Alexa, next," I muttered, my voice almost a hum, and Summer Walker's low, syrupy notes began to fill the room, sliding around me like a second skin. Anna Mae was playing now, and the beat was perfect for the slow rhythm I wanted to keep this morning. I was in my groove, taking my time, enjoying every minute of the calm before the storm. Today was a big day — my new roommate was moving in.

I pulled my brown Essentials sweats over my hips, the fabric hugging just right, and shrugged into the matching hoodie, its softness pressing against my skin like a hug. I slid on my crocs, enjoying the comfortable fit, and made a quick lap around the apartment, double-checking everything. Fresh sheets on the spare bed, towels folded up on the dresser, extra pillows stacked neatly — all the finishing touches were in place. I was ready for her to settle in.

I'd done my research on finding a roommate. Picked her profile carefully. We'd messaged back and forth for a bit, and she seemed cool — she had good taste in music, liked going to art shows, a little bougie, just like me. Plus, it was rare to find another Black woman that fit so well with my vibe, so I thought we'd click easy.

I heard the sound of a car pulling up outside, tires crunching on the gravel drive. Finally. I took one last glance at my reflection in the hallway mirror, adjusted my hoodie, and padded to the door, still vibing to the music. I threw it open, expecting a small, stylish figure in matching luggage sets or something cute like that.

Instead, the dude that stepped out the car was... not who I expected.

He unfolded himself out of the driver's seat like he was made of pure muscle and tattoos, tall as hell and light-skinned, with shoulders that could probably carry the world if he wanted to. Dreadlocks tumbled down his back, thick and dark, and when he turned to grab something from the backseat, I caught the tattoo sleeve that ran up his arm, inked with patterns that looked like they told stories.

My stomach twisted. This was my roommate? This dude was moving in with me?

He spotted me standing in the doorway, and that's when I saw his face. Eyes like honey and chocolate mixed together, a hint of a smirk on his lips, lips just as full as they were smug, like he knew exactly the effect he was having. He looked at me like he'd caught me slipping — and to be real, he had.

"You Cimani?" he asked, his voice smooth and deep, laced with a kind of casual confidence I didn't know how to deal with this early in the day.

I nodded, barely finding my voice. "Yeah... you must be... Syncere?" I almost stumbled over his name.

"That's me," he said, throwing me a look that had me questioning everything I thought I knew about today. He slung a bag over his shoulder, and I swear even that looked effortless, like he was too smooth for regular human movement. He strode over to the door, all tall and tatted up, his presence swallowing up my whole doorway.

I stepped back, a little thrown. I thought I'd be showing some girl around, talking about closet space and where to get the best coffee nearby. Instead, I had him filling up my entryway, his eyes taking in my little apartment with that same lazy, curious smirk.

Perfect AYEEEEEE I'm lowkey bored and wrote ts cause my mans not answering but im actually keep up with this one.