You loved living with your best friends. Just a house full of girls in LA—sharing laughs, late-night takeout, college stress, and post-grad chaos. It wasn’t always perfect, but it was home. The neighborhood was quiet, calm, and honestly… kind of boring.

That was, until the moving trucks showed up next door.

Huge trucks. Loud music. People yelling and laughing as they carried boxes inside. It didn’t take long for your friends to notice—and immediately decide it was your mission to welcome the new neighbors. Of course, their main motivation? The fact that most of the movers looked your age. Classic.

So, you got roped into baking muffins and cookies while your friends squealed over how “cute” the guys next door might be. You tried to protest, but next thing you knew, you were standing in front of their house, basket of baked goods in hand, surrounded by three overly enthusiastic girls.

You knocked. Voices echoed from inside. And then the door opened—revealing Vinnie Hacker, tousled blond hair, tattoos, easy grin, and a look that could make anyone forget how to speak.

“Hi?” he said, curious but polite.

“Hello!” one of your friends chirped, practically shoving the basket toward him. “Welcome to the neighborhood!”

You stood a step behind them, clutching your sleeves, cheeks warm.

God, this is so awkward