“Who are you?”

The popcorn bowl flew out of my lap, spilling all over the carpet. I slapped my hand against my chest. “Holy shit, you scared the crap out of me.”

“Who are you?” he asked again, his tone covered in a thick sheet of ice.

My gaze traveled upwards. A man stood in Andrew’s living room, shooting daggers at me. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks and or done laundry. Food stains covered his white t-shirt while his jeans were snipped off at the ankle. A thick mop of brown hair flopped over his forehead. Underneath the grime though was a handsome man.

“Don’t you think you should answer that question first? Considering you are the one who barged in here,” I stated.

“I need beer.”

“You need a shower.”

His lips quirked into a half smile. “Not that I should have to explain myself but I have been working for the past thirty-six hours.”

“Doing what? Begging for change?”

“Writing code.”

It hit me like a pile of bricks—the incredible black and white prints were the work of the man standing before me.

“You’re Matthew,” I said.

“Yes, and you are?”

Wiping my fake butter covered palms on my jeans, we shook hands. “I’m Haven. It’s nice to meet you.”

At the mention of my name, his face lit up like a football stadium at night. “I can’t believe it. I thought Andrew fabricated the story.”

I guessed Matthew was talking about the incident at the coffee shop, which meant Andrew had told his friends about me. My heart did a somersault.

“One second.” Matthew dashed out of sight and came back with a cracked open ice-cold beer. Taking a long pull, he sighed. “I needed that so bad.” He collapsed into an armchair across me, legs spread. “Andrew really saved you from the hands of a crazed lunatic?”

“He wasn’t a lunatic, just somebody who hates his life.” I glanced over my shoulder toward the front door. “How did you get in here by the way?”

“I have a key. My wife is being a diet Nazi and won’t let me have any carbs, dairy, alcohol or sweets. Andrew feeling bad for me, declared his apartment my cheat zone where anything goes, food wise.”

When Matthew mentioned his wife, adoration twinkled in his gaze. I could tell they had a stable marriage where laughter and joy were a regular occurrence. You couldn’t poke fun at each other unless that was the case. My mom used to throw objects at her suitor’s head if he said anything remotely negative.

“Doesn’t your wife smell the beer on your breath?” He extracted a pack of gum from his pocket and I grinned. “You have all your bases covered.”

“You can say that. So where is Andrew tonight?”

It was humiliating enough to get rejected by Andrew. I didn’t need to pile on the humiliation further by revealing I had no idea where his friend had gone. I settled for a nonchalant shrug.

Matthew saw through my noncommittal answer. “He didn’t tell you where he went?”

“No.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

Matthew coughed bullshit into his hand. Glaring at him, I turned my attention back to the Sex and the City marathon. Carrie was running around New York in a pink tutu and stiletto heels while her voice over blathered on about relationships.

“Have you tried calling him?” Matthew asked.

“I don’t have his number.”

“Of course not. I’ll do it.”

He whipped out a state of the art cell phone that appeared to be from the future. Catching my curious stare, Matthew explained. “I like being ahead of the curve.”

“It looks complicated.”

“It’s only complicated if you aren’t a fan of technology,” he replied with amusement. “It has voice recognition, controls the thermostat and alarm system in my house and has a five mega pixel camera.”

“Wow.”

“I know, right? It has completely transformed my life. Alright, I’m gonna call Andrew.” He perched a setting of reading glasses on his nose and punched in Andrew’s number. Pressing the cellphone against his ear, he looked at me. “It’s ringing.”

I nervously entangled my hands in my lap. This was torture, sitting here waiting for Andrew to answer. My body thrummed with untapped energy. I moved onto my knees and begun to clean the mess of popcorn off the floor.

“Hey, man,” Matthew said into the phone. “Where are you?”

Andrew actually picked up, my eyes widened in surprise. I couldn’t help but wonder if my name showed up on the call screen, would he do the same? Or press ignore? My hands stilled as I eavesdropped on their conversation.

“Yeah, ok,” Matthew uttered. “Do you want to talk to Haven?”

My chin jolted upwards, hope surged through my veins. Mathew cocked his head sideways, listening to whatever Andrew was saying. After several beats, his gaze cut away from mine. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Andrew’s answer. I swept the popcorn into the bowl and marched into the kitchen. Tossing it into the sink with more force than necessary, the bowl spun dizzyingly then came to a stop. My fingers gripped the edge of the counter as I did a couple rounds of yoga breathing, which didn’t help. Nothing would. My jaw was as tight as Fort Knox. Andrew had invited me into his home, almost kissed me, and then had the audacity to leave.

Matthew’s voice slid into my thoughts. “He said he’ll be home tomorrow morning and to make yourself at home.”

“Awesome,” I replied sarcastically.

“Look, I have no idea what is going on between you two but I know Andrew and he only runs when he is freaked out.”

Spinning around, my eyes blazed with unconcealed fury. “Yeah? Is he afraid of vagina?”

He didn’t bat an eyelash at my vulgarity. “Depends on who the vagina is attached to. A girl he doesn’t give a shit about? No. But a girl who makes his heart pitter-patter? Yes.”

“I don’t make his heart pitter-patter.”

Matthew gave me a you’re-a-dumbass look. “Andrew doesn’t bother with very many people. His threshold for humanity is shockingly low.”

“So what? Just because he is bothering with me, he cares? His hot and cold mixed messages say otherwise.”

“Andrew is a complicated guy.”

I snorted at the understatement of the century.

Matthew carried on. “And has gotten more guarded and complicated this past year due to unforeseen circumstances but I promise he is worth it.”

“You’re a little biased, being his friend and all.”

“True but when he talked about you, I saw something in him I haven’t seen in awhile. Be patient, Haven.” Matthew hitched his thumb over his shoulder. “My wife is probably wondering where I am. It was nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

Wrapping my arms around my waist, I digested everything Matthew said and came to the conclusion Andrew was a puzzle I wanted to solve. Stupid curiosity would be the death of me yet.

For the second morning in row, I woke up on a couch, achy and exhausted. The television flickered in the dark. Clicking it off, I stifled a yawned and sat up. The numbers 5:00 a.m. glowed on the digital clock above the mantel. Andrew’s apartment was a good thirty-minute walk to work and if I didn’t get my ass in gear, I would be late. Stifling another yawn, my feet hit the cold hardwood floors. I stumbled into the hallway lined with Matthew’s prints. My eyes blurry with sleep blindly reached for the nearest door and turned. I blinked against the pitch darkness. A bed came into view with an outline of a figure spread eagle. Dusty light filtered through the curtains, spilling across the silk sheets. A strangled gasp escaped my lips. Completely buck naked, Andrew’s six-pack abs and a certain well-endowed area of his body caused lust to flare in my belly. Throwing his arm over his forehead, he shifted positions and groaned. I was being a peeping Tom to the max but I couldn’t tear my gaze away. My hands itched to explore every inch of his hard cut muscles. The alarm on his nightstand blared and cut my revering short.