Chayara wasn't used to visitors. Scratch that—she wasn't used to him standing in her doorway, looking like he walked straight out of a billionaire romance novel with his effortlessly styled hair and eyes that could melt glaciers. She was expecting a food delivery. Instead, she got Drake.
Her brain short-circuited for a second.
"Hey… hi… what are you doing here?" she managed, gripping the edge of the door.
"You'd know if you checked your phone." His voice had that teasing lilt that always got under her skin.
Drake. cocky, gorgeous Drake.
"Uh… I was kinda busy," she mumbled, suddenly realizing how breathless she sounded.
He folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe, giving her a look so exasperated, it almost made her laugh. "Okay, this is awkward."
"What?"
"Me. Standing here. At the door. You. Standing there. Behind the door. You're making me look like some creep who just shows up at women's apartments uninvited."