“So how did you hear about the apartment?” Emily asks.

“I saw it on the board at the supermarket. I just live about a block away from here.”

“Damn that Liam. We’ll never hear the end of it!” Drew’s rich voice interrupts. I wonder who Liam is.

“Shut it, Drew. You guys and your juvenile games.” She looks at me. “They each put an ad in different places, and so far, Liam has had more nibbles from his ad. Now Pandora, let me tell you a little about the place. There are four bedrooms, each with its own bathroom and a sitting room. There’s a games room complete with pool table, big screen TV, etcetera, a kitchen, of course…oh, and an indoor garden complete with a lap pool. Any questions?” Emily sounds like a real estate agent trying to get a sale.

“Well—” My brain seems to have forgotten to signal my mouth, as I find it hard to speak. This place is a freakin’ palace. Like I can afford it.

“She’ll take it. Look, she’s speechless.” Mr. Dreamboat interrupts again and Emily taps her foot, looking at him with disgust.

“You wanted me to do this, right? Well, let me do it,” she says to him. “My flight leaves in three hours and if I miss it, you’ll be in big trouble.” She turns to me. “Pandora, what do you think? I think you’ll be a perfect fit.”

“It’s beautiful, but I don’t think it’s in my price range. I mean, I’m a college student and I work, so…” I shrug.

My eyes are drawn to a billboard outside the window with a picture of a male model in his underwear. The model is Drew. I swear by my twenty-twenty vision it’s the same grinning guy who is presently sitting across from me. I look out of the corner of my eye and see him look at the window and then he chuckles.

“Yeah, it’s me. The others are jealous, but what can I say? Fame, baby, fame.”

Emily rolls her eyes and glares at him. “Conceited much? Pandora, look. You can afford it. Our dad owned the building, and he gave it to Drew for his birthday last year. Yeah, I know he’s a spoiled brat, but I have to love him—it’s in the family contract.” A pillow flies across the room and hits her in the head. “Anyway, money isn’t the problem. It’s whether you’re a fit, and I have an overwhelming feeling, you are.”

“So you live here with Drew and another roommate?” I ask when it finally sinks in this is his apartment.

“Oh. No, I don’t live here. I just popped in for the weekend. Drew and two others live here,” she says. I get the feeling she’s not telling me everything. “Why don’t I show you what would be your room?” Emily gets to her feet, pulling me up as she does.

“Who are the two others?” I ask. A feeling of dread lies heavily in my stomach.

“Oh, just two guys who are model friends of Drew,” Emily says quickly as Drew laughs.

“I’m the best-looking one, of course,” he quips.

“Drew, you are not helping. Go to your room,” Emily’s voice echoes in the vast room.

“Okay, okay.” Drew stands and moves closer to us. “All kidding aside, Pandora, you are the one. When can you move in?”

“God, Emily. What is all this racket?” a male voice with an Australian accent sounds behind me.

I turn to see a brooding, masculine blond guy in a robe, pajama bottoms, and bare feet. I can’t believe my eyes! Julie and I drooled over him in a magazine last month as we were being made up for her wedding. A few feet away from me stands one of the most famous models in the world. This must be a dream.

“Hey, Liam, come meet our new roommate, Pandora,” Drew says cheerfully as Liam scowls more.

“I need coffee. I was up all night, and I get no respect for my rest,” he mumbles as he exits the room.

“Ignore him, Pandora. Liam pulled an all-nighter for a shoot last night, and if Drew had behaved himself, Liam wouldn’t be as peeved as he is. Liam really is a sweetheart. As is Colin. He’s from England and is a love.” Emily grabs my hand as if she knows I’m ready to flee this place. “When can you move in? Oh, I forgot to show you your room, didn’t I?”

I pinch myself—no, not a dream. It’s time to go. I have enough drama in my life with school, work, and my crazy family. No way am I living with three giant male models. I figure the third one is tall too, because geez, there are no short models.

“Thanks, Emily, but I have to run or I’ll be late for class. It was nice meeting you and Drew, but I think I’ll have to pass. I know you’ll find someone who’ll fit in here. This place is a little too big for—”

“If it’s about cleaning the place, don’t worry. They have a housekeeping team who comes in three times a week. It’s included in the rent. Oh, and the cable, and the phone,” Emily says in a rush and then smiles as if she just sealed the deal.

She still has a hold of my hand, and I give it a light pull. She lets go as I grab my backpack and move past her before she can react.

“Sorry, I must run. Nice meeting you,” I say as I walk to the front door and tug it open—only to find a tall, sandy-haired, drool-worthy man attempting to put his key in the lock.

SHUT THE FRONT DOOR.

His smile is killer, but it turns to puzzlement as I push past him, saying a quick hello. I do have manners after all. I sprint to the elevator, thankful it’s still on the floor, and collapse against the wall as the doors close.

Thinking back, I don’t really remember much about my classes today. I was distracted all day with my mind returning to the events at the loft. I had imagined what it would be like to live with three, drop-dead gorgeous, complete eye-candy guys. Not that any of them would have the slightest interest in my Medusa hair and me. I’m sure they date tall, beautiful female versions of themselves. Oh, well. I guess it’s going to be a fun night of scouring the want ads on the interwebs when I get home.

The minute I step into the apartment, I feel the vibe—the “we’re not having sex in our bedroom” vibe.

I quietly close the door again and back away from it when I hear, “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHH, YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS, Kevin! More!”

Homework in the apartment lobby it is then.

We have to convince her to move in. That small amount of time with her made me feel something….again. Now to convince the others that she is our LUCKY NUMBER FOUR! She is the perfect package, and we must treat her delicately so she doesn’t run away. What if she won’t move in? What if I never see her again? No, that can’t happen. A few phone calls will take care of this. I can’t wait to see her again.

2

My eyes feel like they’re full of sand, and the incessant ringing of my cell is giving my headache a headache. Groaning, I squint, looking at the brightly lit screen, and moan (yes, it’s different from a groan) after seeing who it is.

“Hi, Mom!” I say, trying to sound awake, alert, and happy.

“Dora, sweetie, what’s wrong?” my psychic mother asks. Yes, she really is a psychic, medium, or dead talker … or whatever you want to call her really. Luckily, she can’t read immediate family members, so I’m safe. She’s relying instead on mother’s intuition, which is usually right on target. One of the reasons I want to be a therapist, counselor, or psychologist is because I’m an empath, which means I feel other people’s emotions. It took me a few years to perfect “my gift” to the point I wouldn’t walk around depressed all the time. It hit as I embarked on the wonderful journey they call puberty, and with the crazy hormones and the emotional bombardments, I was an utter mess.