Your dad’s by the door, suitcase in hand, all serious like he’s about to leave for war instead of just a work trip to Miami.

“You’ll be fine,” he says. “Nick’s gonna stay here with you while I’m gone.”

You blink. “Wait, what? Dad, seriously? I don’t need a babysitter. I’m 18.”

He gives you that look, the one that says this isn’t up for debate. “He’s not a babysitter. He’s your bodyguard. He’s staying here. He’s in charge. Just listen to him, alright?”

You start to protest, but then your eyes flick to Nick. He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching the whole thing unfold like it’s mildly entertaining. He’s tall, built, wearing a fitted black tee that’s doing way too much, and that stupid cocky smirk on his face makes your stomach flip, annoyingly.

Your dad says his goodbyes, gives you a quick hug, and heads out the door. You barely have time to wave before the door shuts and it’s just you and Nick now.

Nick pushes off the wall and strolls past you, slow and casual. “Looks like we’re roommates now,” he says with a grin that’s all trouble.

You cross your arms, trying not to look flustered. “Don’t think this means you’re the boss of me.”

He chuckles under his breath as he disappears into the kitchen. “We’ll see.”