You weren't trying to run into him — really, you weren't. But somehow you always seemed to "accidentally" lock yourself out of your apartment whenever he got home from his late shifts.

Tonight was no different. Shivering in your thin hoodie, you cursed under your breath, jiggling the doorknob uselessly.

"Locked out again, princess?" A deep voice drawled behind you.

You turned and there he was — him. Jace Whitmore, the rugged, frustratingly handsome neighbor from 4C, still in his dark jacket and boots, smelling faintly of smoke and rain.

You put on your sweetest smile. "Maybe. Could use a little rescue, though."

He smirked, walking up with lazy steps. His hair was messy from the rain, and the scar on his eyebrow tugged a little when he raised it. He leaned close, crowding your space, only to ruffle your hair like you were a kid.

"You should start carrying a key like a real adult," he teased, effortlessly picking the lock for you like he'd done too many times before.