MY TEXTBOOK THUDS closed in front of me, mid-paragraph, just missing my fingertips.

“I was reading that,” I grumble to myself, well-aware that I’ve read the same sentence 25 times already.

“You’re stalling,” Patrick grunts as he moves around the living room, haphazardly stuffing last minute knick-knacks into miscellaneous backpacks and boxes.

He’s right. I’ve been dreading this day all summer.

Moving day.

“Do we have to go? I-I feel like I’ve just started to get comfortable…” I trail off, sensing his disapproval from across the room.

“You know I hate this place, Georgia,” he remarks stiffly, his jaw tightened. “It still smells like Rachel in here.”

Rachel. His ex-girlfriend – the love of his life, just before he met me. They had lived in this apartment together; blissfully, from Patrick’s perspective. Little did he know, Rachel had been getting a little too acquainted with a few different guys in her Computer Science courses. One day, Patrick woke up to find all her things gone, without even a note. He found out about the Computer Science hookups from a mutual friend and never seems to have been able to kick the hurt – even after two years as my boyfriend.

I sigh and begin to pick up my History of American Literature textbook that I’ve been unsuccessfully using as a distraction.

“Your other textbooks are already in my car. Go put that one with them so it doesn’t get lost,” Patrick says, his demanding tone souring the space between us.

He doesn’t look up, and I don’t attempt to argue.

The air outside is scorching and heavy, wrapping around me like a thick blanket. I feel the heat of the Central Texas sun beating down on my skin, and I squint instinctively against the brightness.

“Oh, God,” I mutter, wiping my brow frivolously.

It has to be at least 2,000 degrees outside. It's the only logical explanation for the amount of sweat barreling down my back right now.

As I stride towards Patrick’s car, fiddling with the heavy textbook hung clumsily in my arms, I'm immediately stopped – like I just walked into a brick wall. I step back in surprise, the jerking movement sending my textbook onto the blistering pavement with a solid thud.

“Georgia?”

I glance upwards and am met by the smiling face of Danny Mendez, an old coworker of mine from when I worked at the local mall in my freshman year. He’s tall, with his straight, white teeth nearly blinding me as he smiles from ear-to-ear. His golden-blonde hair hangs in ringlets on his forehead, dampened from sweat.

“I’m so sorry,” he continues. “I didn’t see you there, G. What are you doing here?”

His deep blue eyes survey mine, a confused expression forming between his furrowed brows.

“I live here,” I respond, somewhat defensively. “Well, I did. My boyfriend and I are moving today.”

He smiles again, a real and genuine smile, like he seems truly happy to see me.

“That’s great, G… do you need any help?”

He bends down and picks up my oversized textbook with one hand, gripping it close to his side rather than handing it back to me.

“No, thanks.” I give him a half-smile, sheepishly looking down as his eyes attempt to meet my own.

Danny and I were friends at work and got along very well there, but it’s been years since I’ve seen him. Not to mention that he’d never met my boyfriend before… and I don’t feel like I have the energy for introductions today.

“Come on! I’d love to help you. I was just here dropping off an order.”

He lifts his free hand to reveal a takeout bag, smothered with stickers of a delivery service logo.

“I do this in my free time.”

He winks at me and walks two doors away from my own, dropping the food on their welcome mat and lazily snapping a photo of it.

“But,” he continues, “as of right now, I’m done for the day. Where are you moving to?”

“Texas Lofts,” I reply, naming a complex across town that sits right next to the center of campus.

“No shit!” he exclaims, laughing. “That’s where I live! What’s your apartment number?”

I look back, worried his voice will attract Patrick outside, where introductions can’t be avoided. It’s not that I don’t want Patrick to meet an old friend, but all of my past attempts have been slashed by his disinterest. I’d rather not start anything with him today by forcing him to be social. I know there’s nothing he’d hate more.

“It’s 338,” I whisper, hinting for Danny to keep his voice low.

“You’re lying!” he practically shouts, excited and confused. “We’re in 339!”

“We?” I ask, curious. I realize then that, in the many months we worked together, I never asked much about Danny’s personal life.

“Yeah, me and my roommates.” He gestures towards the parking lot, pointing at the tail-end of a truck parked just out of view.“Henry and Jonah. Henry’s with me now!”

Before I can respond, Danny backs away earnestly and waves to someone standing just outside of my view.

“Anderson! Come here!” he yells, his voice echoing in the outdoor hallway.

Is he trying to make the whole complex come outside?

I look back nervously at my apartment door, astounded that Patrick hasn’t stormed out of it.

“Georgia,” Danny says, sauntering back towards me, “this is Henry Anderson – my roommate.”

From around the corner steps, undoubtedly, the most handsome guy I have ever seen. He looks like a walking Polo advertisement – muscular, tall, symmetrical – and my mouth runs dry as I take in the sight of him. I immediately become aware of the beads of sweat plastered across my forehead, wetting my hair and causing my mascara to form dripping black rims around my eyes.

He smiles at me, his decidedly emerald eyes twinkling in the afternoon sunlight. Despite the immense heat, there isn’t a drop of sweat on him. His light brown, slightly overgrown hair is swept back effortlessly in a classic style, reminding me of old money and royalty. His teeth are stark white and perfectly straight, carving out a charming smile that leaves deep dimples in his cheeks. His stubble is neatly groomed, just like the rest of him, and he’s casually dressed in a Texas University t-shirt and shorts – a stark contrast to the neat style of his face and hair. His body is broad and, despite my best efforts, I can do nothing to avoid noticing the muscles straining against his t-shirt.

“Hi, Georgia,” he rasps.

Henry’s voice is deep and quieter than I expected, but smooth as silk. His words are coated by a slight Southern drawl that makes my stomach flutter as he speaks.

“H-hi,” I stammer out, reaching to shake his hand.

Oh god, shaking hands? Is this a business meeting? You’re embarrassing yourself, Georgia!

He raises an eyebrow and chuckles, but doesn’t hesitate to reach a rugged, muscular hand out to shake mine. His hands are huge, especially compared to mine, and easily engulf my palm and fingers in his grasp. Henry holds my hand briefly as he shakes it, allowing the scent of his cologne to fill my senses for a brief moment. He smells of sage and something sweet, like lavender.

The scent suits him.

Danny clears his throat comically and I instantly drop Henry’s hand, my cheeks flushing red from embarrassment. I turn quickly towards my apartment door and pray I won’t be met with Patrick’s angry eyes staring back at me. Luckily, the door remains closed.

“Georgia is moving in next door to us,” Danny says, breaking the silence.

“Really?” Henry shoots me a quizzical look, a charming smirk on his lips. “Lucky us.”

In most instances, I would have been creeped out by this comment from a virtual stranger. But there's something about the boyish look on Henry’s face that makes it clear he means his words with complete innocence.

I stare at him with one eyebrow raised and, to my internal horror, let out a small snort. “Yeah, lucky you.”

Good job, Georgia. Very smooth. That almost sounded cool.

He smiles at me again, a magnetic grin that I can tell he’s probably used on hundreds of women in the past. I understand why Danny would want to live with someone like this – someone so positive, so confident.

“Well, I’ve got to get going…” I gesture weakly towards my apartment door. “Thanks for the offer to help, Danny, but I think we’ve got it from here.”

“Whatever you say, Georgie,” Danny replies, sighing with playful sarcasm. “We’ll see you at the apartment tomorrow, though?”

“We?” I ask, again. Apparently, I’m having trouble grasping the concept of multiples.

“Yeah. Henry’s my roommate, remember?”

I look up towards Henry’s chiseled and tanned features, which are beaming with pride. In this moment, I swear the glint in his eyes somehow manages to sparkle even more than before.

“I’m sure we’ll be seeing her,” Henry remarks as they turn to walk back towards their truck.

He makes it only a few steps before turning back towards me with a slight smile on his face – a smile that I can’t quite decipher.