But I was at the door and there was nothing stopping me. Yanking it open, I peered out into the stairwell, seeing two heads disappear down the steps. The door to the party was still open, and I stood there, torn. This wasn’t home. No one was going to send me a scathing look or yell obscenities at me. If anything, they’d probably think I was some kind of freak just standing there, half out my door, all bug-eyed, and letting all the cold air out.

“Bring Raphael back!” exclaimed a familiar voice and a deep laugh that had my stomach dropping in stunned disbelief. “You fucktard!”

I recognized that voice! Oh my God…

It couldn’t be. I hadn’t seen the big ass silver truck outside, but then again, there were so many cars and it wasn’t like I was searching for his truck.

The door swung all the way open, and I froze as a guy stumbled out, laughing as he set a tortoise—what the fuck?—on the floor. The thing stuck its head out, looked around, and then disappeared into its shell.

A second later, the guy who’d put the tortoise outside was pulled back into the apartment and Cam appeared in the doorway in all his shirtless glory. He reached down and scooped up the little green guy. “Sorry Raphael. My friends are complete, fucking….” He looked up.

I tried to jerk back inside, but it was too late.

Cam saw me.

“Assholes…” He did a double take. “What the…?”

Would dive bombing into my apartment seem weird? Yes—yes it would. So I went with a very lame, “Hey…”

Cam blinked several times, as if he sought to clear his vision. “Avery Morgansten? This is becoming a habit.”

“Yeah.” I forced myself to swallow. “It is.”

“Do you live here or are you visiting…?”

I cleared my throat as the tortoise’s legs started moving like it was trying to wiggle away. “I… I live here.”

“No shit?” Those baby blues widened and he swaggered around the railing. I couldn’t help but notice how his gym shorts hung way low on his narrow hips. Or his stomach. It was ripped, taking six pack into eight pack territory. “You really live here?”

I forced my gaze up and got stock on the sun tattoo. “Yes. I really live here.”

“This is… I don’t even know.” He laughed again, and I met his stare. “Really crazy.”

“Why?” Besides the fact he was standing in my apartment hallway, shirtless and barefoot, holding a tortoise named Raphael?

“I live here.”

I gaped at him. The whole half naked thing sort of made sense now and I guess so did the tortoise, but it couldn’t be. Way too many coincidences. “You’re joking, right?”

“No. I’ve been living here for a while—like a couple of years with my roommate. You know, the fucktard who put poor Raphael outside.”

“Hey!” the guy yelled from inside their apartment. “I have a name. It’s Señor Fucktard!”

Cam laughed. “Anyway, did you move in over the weekend?”