Good Guy

Part Four

Cleo loved her parents to death. They were the coolest and most doting people in the entire world. They provided everything she could ever want and need, even when she didn't ask for it, and Cleo was grateful for that most of the time.

Now was not one of those times.

For some reason, her parents had deemed it necessary to send 'a few extra knick-knacks' for her apartment. By 'few extra knick-knacks,' they meant an extra fold-up desk, solid wood shoe rack, portable microwave, her own washing machine and the new mini-fridge. She didn't even know they had a new mini-fridge.

Cleo grumbled while contemplating the problems which her new things presented. Her room was the size of a peanut, and more stuff meant she had to shuffle around what was already inside to free up some space. Aside from that, it was on the second floor of the apartment building, and she was sure any attempts at moving all the boxes by herself would result in a hospital visit. The delivery van had long gone, and the seventy-year-old landlady in charge of the building had even less muscles, which meant that she'd probably skip the hospital entirely and go straight to the morgue.

"Cleo?"

The voice startled her, and she yelped quite audibly. Cleo turned around swiftly, her heart beating in her chest as she did so. She gripped her apartment keys in her hand tightly, ready to turn the tiny pieces of metal into weapons if needed. It was almost seven at night, and she was on the empty drive of an apartment tucked away in an unfamiliar, seldom frequented part of the city. She had every right to be jumpy.

It was thus a great relief when she was met with her drop-dead gorgeous schoolmate's bewildered face.

"You?!" she exclaimed, before realizing how panicky her voice was. "Oh my fluttering god, that didn't come out right."

"Are you okay?" he asked, his black eyes, made darker by the lack of sunlight, questioning.

Cleo sighed, thankful that it wasn't some mugger who'd caught her unawares. She silently vowed to be more careful next time. And perhaps carry around a spray bottle with some alcohol or bleach in it. "Yeah, I'm fine."

She watched as he moved to the side and surveyed the old two-story, six-units building. It obviously wasn't the best residence around due to its weathered paint and fair distance from the school belt, but it was affordable. Her schoolmate looked at her with a rather suspicious expression, pointing to the unlit unit on the second floor. "Is that your apartment?"

Considering all the moving boxes around her and the keys in her hands, there was no point in lying. "Guilty."

"Then that means we're going to be neighbors," he said, his eyes glinting with mischief, as brightly as his earring under the fluorescent street light. "You're really taking that stalking thing to heart, Freshie."

His response caught Cleo completely off guard. She knew that with the university being as big and popular as it was, she was bound to either bump into or stay near other students that went there. To actually live in the exact building with the exact same student you were sort-of-kind-of hoping to run into again was pushing it.

And yet it was so. "You live next door?"

"Come on. You already know that." He turned fully towards her, and she noticed that he was in an old t-shirt, basketball shorts and a pair of slippers. It was like he'd been home for a few hours already, and had just run out to buy or perhaps do something. Still, he looked as attractive as any magazine model despite wearing what he probably went to bed in.

Snap out of it, Cleo berated herself internally. It wasn't the time to put 'him' and 'bed' in one sentence, unless she was ready to die of embarrassment. First off, he'd been a total gentleman to her, so he didn't deserve to be treated in the opposite way. Second, it was just plain creepy. She should be thinking of other things about him... like his identity. "How could I know? I mean, I don't even have your name."