I knocked. My stomach tightened in the silence that followed. He was still asleep. I was lifting my hand to deliver a louder knock when the door swung open and there he was, YouTube sensation Oscar Bell, 1.8 million views. Wearing boxer briefs.

“Hey,” he said blearily, rubbing his eyes with one hand, leaning against the doorframe with the other.

I looked down, avoiding eye contact, but then there was his chest and his bare, broad shoulders, and, frantically avoiding that, there was his stomach, a light line of fuzz leading to the waistband of his underwear and oh my God, just look at his face.

His eyes widened slowly, like he’d only now regained consciousness.

“Morning,” I said, concierge-neutral. “Dad says to join him upstairs. Whenever you’re ready. No rush . . .”

“Ah great. Thanks. What, um, time is it?”

“Seven.”

“Right. Wow. Guess I need to stop staying out so late.” He grinned, like he would never dream of doing something so ludicrous.

“How late?” I had to ask.

“I actually have no idea. Before dawn.”

“So like . . . an hour ago.”

“Possibly.” He seemed awake now. Alert. And not one bit concerned that he was mostly naked to the street—to me. He’d even opened the door wider.

His boxer briefs were bright blue. And tight.

“What time did you go to bed?”

I blinked. Upward. “What?”

He smiled. “What time . . . ?”

“Ten twenty-seven.”

“That is specific.”

“I checked the clock before I fell asleep. It’s digital. So. Big numbers.”

Big! Numbers!

He was grinning at me like a kid on a carnival ride.

“Did you go out with Amberley kids, then?” I leaned against the stoop rail, super breezy, I talked to half-naked guys all the time, occupational hazard, NBD.

“Um? No.” He frowned, thought. “I went out . . . wandering. I mean, it’s New York, right?”

His eyes landed on mine, piercing, joyous—like that video. Which reminded me what he was doing here in the first place.

“Right, well . . .” I motioned to the street. “I’m gonna wander right now? I’ll see you around.”

I’d made it to the sidewalk when he called out, “Thank you, Ruby!”

I turned back with a wary wave and watched as his eyes, shoulders, lips, everything about him sort of . . . loosened.

“Thank you for waking me up.”

A wince flickered over his face, and I wondered if that wasn’t quite what he’d meant to say.

“No problem.” I spun away, then called behind me. “You might want to set your alarm. Dad does his best work in the mornings.”

The crosswalk light started flashing. I jogged to catch it before either of us could expose anything else.

On the other side of the avenue, I pulled myself together, as Mom would say. It took effort.