“Nah, I gotchu. Which floor?”
“Seriously, I can carry–”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t. I just know I’m not about to watch a woman struggle.”
There was no argument to make, so I let him. I handed over the bags and followed him up to the third floor, where my apartment was still half-empty and smelled like cardboard and fresh paint.
“This you?” he asked, nodding at the open door.
“Yeah. Just moved in yesterday.”
He stepped inside and set everything on the island in the kitchen, taking in the chaos with an expression that was trying really hard not to be judgmental. “Storm?” he said, looking at the box.
“That’s me. Stormie, actually.”
He repeated, testing my name, “Stormie.” There was something interesting in the way he said it. “I’m Kade. I’m in 3B.”
“Oh, so you’re my neighbor. Cool.”
“Yeah. Saw you dragging boxes upstairs. Thought you might need a hand.”
I stood there, arms crossed, studying him. He was hard not to stare at, and he wore a slight smirk like he knew. I cleared my throat and said, “Well, thanks. I, uh… have more boxes in my car if you want to…”
“Yeah, I gotchu.”
Kade helped me haul my boxes upstairs and we slipped into an easy rhythm. By the end, he knew I’d just graduated from college, was from two states over, and had driven my Honda for twelve hours on junk food.
I knew he was a certified personal trainer, had lived in the building for a couple of years, and was good with his hands. I learned he had a sense of humor that made me laugh, even when I was exhausted. By the time we were finished, he was leaning against my kitchen counter like he belonged there, and I was making him a Remy and Coke in my college mug as a thank you.
“You good here?” he asked, and there was something in the way he said it that made it sound like he was asking about more than just whether I was settled in my apartment.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. I appreciate you.”
He nodded, sipping his drink and glancing at my new apartment—half-unpacked and cluttered. My parents had wanted me to move years ago, but I stayed for college. Now, finally, I was here.
“Well, if you need anything, just knock,” Kade said, breaking into my thoughts as he pushed off the counter.
“Wait... the mug?”
He stopped and turned back with a smirk. “I got you,” he said. “I ain’t into keeping anything that’s not mine.” Our eyes met for a second before he winked. “Later, Storm.”
I leaned against the counter after he left, staring at the closed door, my heart doing something weird in my chest. The way he’d said my name–Storm, not Stormie–like he’d already decided what he was going to call me. That was the very beginning. Then, just as quickly, I snapped back to the present–the rain, the dead car, Kade’s voice on the other end of the phone.
“Kade, just…” I exhaled deeply into the phone. “Please... hurry up.”
“A’ight, send me your location. I’ll be there in thirty.”
“It’s starting to rain harder.”
“Then I’ll be there in twenty.”
I heard him moving around, keys jingling. Rain drummed on my car–almost soothing if I wasn’t stranded. “Thank you,” I said, softer. “Sorry for yelling.”
“You ain’t gotta apologize. That’s what I’m here for.” That warmth in my chest grew–definitely gratitude, not more. Notthe way his voice wrapped around me, or how he always dropped everything for me.
“Were you about to leave the house anyway?” I asked, pulling up my location to send to him.
“Yeah, pretty much. Just got out the shower and shit. You good to sit tight for a minute?”