Page 22 of The Jerk in Apartment 1B

That means he didn’t get more than three hours of sleep. And he still looks like that? Like he just walked off the pages of a fitness magazine? How is that possible?

“You want some breakfast?” he asks, opening his door.

“Breakfast?” I say, still processing the whole three-hours of sleep thing.

“Yeah. You know, the meal that comes before lunch.”

I look up and see him giving me that slight smile. Why is that so sexy?

“Um, I don’t eat breakfast.”

“Really? You should. It’s good to feed your body early in the day. Gives you energy.”

That doesn’t seem to be a problem for him. He’s clearly got tons of energy if he can do a workout after getting almost no sleep.

“Hey, I got the rolls!” someone says from behind me.

I turn back and see Cole coming down the hall, holding a pan of what I think might be cinnamon rolls. I can smell them, and wow, they smell good.

“I just got home,” the Jerk says to Cole. “I was about to make coffee, but my neighbor decided to stop by.”

“Actually, I was just leaving,” I say.

He glances at my apartment. “You’re going to leave with your door open? And your music on?”

“Well, no, I—”

“Stay for breakfast,” Cole says, holding out the pan of rolls. “These are fresh from the oven.”

“You made those?”

“I make them every weekend.”

“Cole likes to bake,” the Jerk says to me. “He makes all kinds of things. He’s always trying new recipes.”

“Are you a chef?”

“No, I just do it for fun. It’s kind of a hobby.”

Cole looks wide awake too. And he’s been up making cinnamon rolls. Do these guys not sleep? And how do they look this hot first thing in the morning?

Maybe they’re not human. Maybe they’re some mutant species that can eat baked goods and not sleep and still have perfect bodies and tons of energy. Okay, that was a very strange thought. Where did that even come from?

I think I need to go back to sleep.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Trina

“You joining us?” Cole asks me.

“No, I have to go.” I hurry back to my apartment, then realize I forgot to yell at them about the noise.

Maybe talking to them directly isn’t the best approach. Even if I asked them nicely to keep the noise down, I doubt they’d listen to me. I need to talk to the landlord. The noise complaint would be better coming from him than from me. I’m assuming it’s a man. I don’t actually know. Jenna left me the landlord’s number but didn’t attach a name.

Turning off my music, I find the number and call it. It rings several times before someone finally picks up.

“Hello?” a man answers.

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