Rowdy || 18+ || RH

Chapter 3

Emersyn

The morning sun is shining as I pull up to the address. My hands tremble on the steering wheel, excitement and anxiety warring inside me. The house is nothing short of magnificent, its grandeur standing out even in a neighborhood of well-maintained homes.

It's a two-story building, but what catches my attention most is its extraordinary width. The facade is adorned with meticulous brickwork, and the windows are framed with dark wooden shutters.

A lush garden, brimming with colorful flowers, fills the air with their subtle fragrance, and the lawn is a perfect shade of green. The winding stone pathway leads to a porch that beckons with an air of welcome, almost as if the house itself is inviting me in.

I can hardly believe I might live here. A shiver of excitement mixed with a pang of doubt runs through me. Is this really within my reach?

As my eyes wander across the property, I'm struck by a large black van parked in the driveway. It's the kind of van that, if it were white, would look like something out of a crime thriller—a kidnapper's van, perhaps. This one is black, though, with the word 'Disorderly' decaled on the side of it in a way that looks almost spray-painted on.

I stare at it for a moment, finding it odd, but I quickly push the thought aside, reminding myself that I'm here for a reason. The room for rent that I'd seen advertised online seemed too good to be true, especially in a place like this.

Taking a deep breath, I climb out of my car and head up the stone steps. The texture beneath my feet feels reassuring, solid, grounding me as my heart continues to pound with anticipation.

The closer I get to the door, the more I notice the little details. There's a charming door knocker shaped like a lion's head, its eyes almost lifelike, watching me as I reach out to announce my arrival. The wood of the door is rich and warm, aged but well taken care of, like the rest of the house.

I knock firmly, the sound echoing slightly, and wait for the door to open.

As the seconds stretch on, I can't help but glance back at the van once more, the word 'Disorderly' seeming to taunt me. What does it mean? Who owns it? My mind whirls with questions, but I force myself to look away.

Suddenly the door swings open and I'm startled into a step back. Standing in the doorway is a man who is nothing short of breathtaking. He's tall, at least a foot taller than my own height, and I have to strain my neck to look up at him. He's older, maybe a decade or so, give or take, than my twenty-seven years, but he is gorgeous.

My words catch in my throat as I take him in, and for a heartbeat, the world falls away. His eyes, those strong arms—I can't seem to look away.

His hair, shaggy on top and buzzed on the sides, is white, a sharp contrast to the rest of his appearance. I can't tell if it's naturally that color or if he dyes it. His beard is full and dark, yet with two striking white patches running through it on either side of his mouth. The double silver hoops in both his ears add to his edgy appearance, giving him a look that's both rugged and appealing.

He's muscular and imposing, his body filling up most of the doorframe. I can't help but take in the way his tight black button-up shirt stretches over his well-defined muscles. The sleeves are cuffed halfway up his forearm, his veins protruding with every flex of his fingers.

Chipped black polish covers his fingernails, while silver rings circle three of the fingers on his left hand, and two on his right. His fingers are thick, and I wonder- wait, shit. Get it together, Emersyn.

A pair of well-worn, ripped black jeans cling to his legs. His blue eyes meet mine when I look back up, and for a moment, I lose myself in them.

He's got the look of a guy who could have been plastered on the rock band posters in my teenage bedroom, the kind of guy young me would have drooled over. Is he part of a band? That might explain the van parked out front, looking like the trusty ride of an up-and-coming touring band.