*Lokela

"You live with how many guys, are you kidding me?" a woman's barely hushed voice cut through Lokela's closed door. "How am I supposed to explain this to Mom? How is this remotely what we talked about when we agreed you should get a room in an apartment this year? And how on Earth am I—" Frightened scream. "What the hell is that? Was he one of your new apartment mates?"

He squinted at his door. It was too early for this crap. Any screaming before ten o'clock on a weekend was strictly against house regulations, he was damn sure, and stomping and complaining were right up there with screaming. This was exactly why he had moved into a house with all guys.

Or was why he had tried. He caught Felipe scrubbing the fridge out at midnight last night, elbows deep in pungent bleach and several black trash bags filled up and waiting to be taken outside.

"What gives with the chick?" he asked. "You told me you only wanted guys living here."

"Yeah, I know. I thought she was a dude. Her name is Ray and she sent an email."

"So you should have told her to leave when she showed up."

"Technically, that's sexual discrimination. I was 99% sure the room would scare her off and if that didn't, then seeing the fridge would. I even chewed my nails and acted disgusting while she was here, but it didn't work. Don't worry though. The second she meets sees us eating dinner she'll be out of here faster than a torpedo."

Sounded legit. At the time, he hadn't argued. Lokela didn't know if this girl had thought about what it meant to live with only guy roommates, yet, but she was here with reinforcements to move her stuff in.

"No," Ray said, answering the woman. "That's Vinny the Cockroach! He lives with me. I'm going to teach him flea circus tricks and train him to eat mosquitos."

A man laughed, but the woman didn't.

"Let me get my tools and we'll measure the walls. The furniture I'm bringing in from the other apartments should fit fine, but I want to be sure," the man said and the house rumbled as he went down the stairs like an elephant.

Didn't anyone ever tell that dude how to be light on his toes?

"Ray, this is too much. I can't let you stay here. Look at the mattress. Look at the window. Look at the filth in this closet. No."

"Please, Beth, don't be like that. I never told you you couldn't marry that dipshit Brian even though it was painfully obvious what a loser he was. Let me make my own mistakes."

And now she was criticizing the guy helping her move in. Nice attitude. He groaned and rolled out of bed, there wouldn't be any more sleep that morning. On his way out, he grabbed his towel off the hook behind his door.

In the hallway stood a blond bombshell with her lips contorted in disgust and her gaze fixed in the room opposite his. She saw him and squeaked. Then the college age bombshell who had tried to talk to him last night popped out the room, face red with effort of carrying the bags on the floor. Glistening beads of sweat sparkled on her chest.

This was why he had wanted a room in a house of only guys.

He grunted, refusing to be cordial and pushed past the ladies. They stared—not exactly at him, but at his chest and boxers and he was suddenly hyper aware of the thin layer of cloth separating his Johnny-boy from their sight.

Thank God for small favors, he didn't have any morning stiffness anymore.

"Hey, what's up?" Ray asked.

The woman, Beth from the name Ray had said and who must be her sister, smacked her arm at this tasteless remark. He was up, because they woke him up. He continued down the hall to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

"Wait, you have to share the bathroom with these guys? How does that work out?" Beth asked loudly.

"With a lock on the door, duh."

He twisted the shower faucet to drown out the rest of their conversation. He took his shower as always, no heat and as for as long as he wanted.

As luck would have it, they were gone when he emerged from the bathroom, skin tingling from the cold water. He wrapped the towel loosely around his waist and sauntered down the hallway.

A rivulet of water ran from his hair down his neck and onto his spine and he rubbed at it with his hand.

"Hey!" a man yelled, sharp and angry.

Lokela jumped, ready to fight off whoever was yelling. The towel started to slip and he grabbed at it before his family jewels were hanging loose in the wind.

"What the hell are you doing out here, half naked?" a man—he must be Brian, the guy who went for his tools—snapped at him. He had a hammer in is hand and a threat in his eyes.

Holding up a hand in a gesture of peace, Lokela backed away. "I live here, dude. I can walk down the hall." He started to turn, but Brian followed.

"Respect for others is a fundamental precept for people living together. I don't see much respect in your little towel. I don't think shorts as a minimum dress is too much to ask for. Make sure this doesn't happen again, when Ray is around. Got it?"

Respect? It was too damn early for bull. "I've got a lesson on respect for you, straight from the mouth of your precious Ray. Do you know what she said the second you were gone? That she shouldn't be chewed out for living here, since she never told her sister not to marry a dipshit like you, despite what an obvious loser you were...Brian." Let him chew on that. Asshole.

Brian's eyes narrowed in confusion for a second, then he slowly advanced on Lokela until he was against the wall. The hammer came up to eye level.

"First of all," Brian said, "Beth and I aren't married. Second of all, I'm not Brian. He was the dipshit loser, and he's long gone. I'm Russell. And I am going to explain this once, very slowly. You will wear clothes from the second you open your door until after you lock it to get ready for bed. And you will show Ray respect every day, whether she is home or not. If you don't, I will find you. Do I need to repeat anything?"

"No, Russell, I think I've got it. Shorts in the house. Although, this house is supposed to be for adults, not little girls who need their baby-sitter to look after them."

Something ugly wormed into Russel's expression and Lokela was painfully aware of the hammer only an inch from his temple. Between the flat end and the claw, Russel could bash in his eye or gouge out an eye in three seconds. Maybe he should have been more diplomatic.

"Hey guys," Felipe said, coming down from the second floor. "Is everything okay?"

"Who are you?" Russel asked.

"Felipe. I'm the landlord. Sort of." Any sound of confidence in his voice was seriously lacking.

Felipe looked like he wished he were anywhere but there managing the house and the pissed off guy with a hammer situation. Lokela couldn't blame him. He was starting to seriously regret stirring up shit.

"All right. Listen up, the two of you. I'll track down the others later, but you'll do nicely to start with." Russel backed off some, pointing his hammer first at Felipe and then at Lokela.

The towel was dangerously close to slipping from his hips and he bunched it in a knot in one fist.

"You'll be sharing a roof with a young, sweet-souled woman from now on. I expect you to respect her space and her body. As in, you'll keep your clothes on and your distance. Understand? Or I will hunt you down and hurt you. Also, a house is a home, and a home is shared by family. Consider yourselves to be all cousins, so if you get any bad ideas, remind yourselves—in this day and age cousins don't do things together. Ever. And if you do, I'll make you suffer, like the overly-protective soon-to-be, brother-in-law that I am. Do you both understand?"

They nodded mutely, both inching their way in opposite directions to escape. He glared at them, a nerve twitching in the corner of his eye.

Lokela hadn't been this freaked out in years.

"Good. I'll be in there, fixing the crummy excuse for a closet if you have any questions." Russel disappeared in Ray's room and Lokela ducked into his own. He was closing the door when Felipe stopped him.

"I'm leaving for the rest of the day. I won't have my phone, so you won't be able to reach me if that guy decides to kill anyone. See you."

Lokela lifted his chin in goodbye. Leaving the house sounded like the only reasonable plan there was. He grabbed his clothes and headed out as fast as possible.

It was already a balmy warm morning. Too bad it sucked.

As if he could possibly be interested in blondie at all. She was nothing of his type—too blond, too bubbly. He would bet money he didn't have that she couldn't hold her end of conversation if it was glitter covered stick.

She might be beautiful in some people's opinions, but he wasn't going near her. And he almost had his head smashed with a hammer over her.

Not a chance.

*** Frictions between roommates already? Not good. I'm sure Ray will find other friends, though.... ***

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