**The Dixon Rule: Chapter 1** Beads of water clung to the surface of my bathroom mirror, embarking on a race down to the bottom with all the fervor of a heatwave-induced contest. I couldn’t help but smirk as I silently wagered on the larger bead—after all, go big or go home, right? But as it dashed forward, it took an unexpected left turn, leaving the first bead on a steady descent straight to the vanity below. I sighed, reminding myself why I’ve learned to avoid gambling. I seized a washcloth and wiped away the condensation, unveiling my flushed reflection. The pink hue spilling across my chest and shoulders was a glaring testament to the scalding water that had poured over me. The state of my shower was a nightmare, and sadly, my bank account wouldn’t allow a plumber’s visit anytime soon. My dad, bless him, said he wouldn't be able to drive down until later this week, which meant I was stuck for a few days with my lava-like water, praying it wouldn’t burn the skin off my bones. Once Dad sorts the shower out, I could compel him to pry open the kitchen drawer that had suddenly decided to blockade entry and figure out why the refrigerator ice dispenser had gone rogue. Being a homeowner was definitely exhausting—especially when you're a complete novice at it. The original issue was about a showerhead that wouldn’t stop dripping. Me, in an attempt to carry out some DIY heroics inspired by an online tutorial, had turned my bathroom into a geyser. DIY plumbing? Not my forte. I turned away from my reflection and plucked a fluffy, pink towel from the doorhook before stepping back into the tranquil air of my hallway, the steam of the bathroom dissipating behind me. “I almost died in there!” I announced dramatically to my fish, Skip, as I entered the living room, wrapping the towel tight around me. My gaze drifted across the loft-like space to the twenty-gallon fish tank against the far wall. The goldfish within stared back at me with an unnerving intensity. “That lack of blinking is seriously creeping me out, you know?” I remarked, raising an eyebrow. It swished its fins and then retreated behind a gaudy, gold-painted treasure chest. At the pet store, the guy had chuckled as he gazed at Skip, declaring he’d never seen a goldfish of such a size. Apparently, what I had was not merely a pet—Skip was, well, overweight. And entirely too silent, a fact that sent my unease spiraling. I didn’t trust pets that kept their mouths shut. “Look, Skip, one day, you’ll be in distress and instead of comforting you, I might just take a dive myself. So chew on that while you hide behind your pirate treasure!” I grumbled, rolling my eyes. Fish were not my choice pet. The idea had been forced upon me following Aunt Jennifer's unexpected departure from this world, wherein she bestowed her ‘prized’ goldfish upon me through her will. The executor had stifled laughter while reading that out loud, while my younger brother, Thomas, didn’t bother and had burst out cackling until Dad shot him a look that could silence a room. On the upside, the fishbowl came with Aunt Jennifer’s apartment, and just like that, I was a twenty-one-year-old homeowner. Good and bad, I guess. Still, the shower’s extreme heat left my throat dry as a desert. I made my way barefoot to the fridge, but I halted mid-step when my phone buzzed on the granite countertop, startling me. My heart sank upon seeing Percy’s name flash across the screen. **PERCY:** Hey, want to get together tonight and catch up? I’m free after 8. My immediate reaction was a resounding “nope.” But getting blunt would be rude. I might have a temper, but I wasn’t about to be needlessly harsh. I needed a kinder way to brush him off. This wasn’t the first outreach from him under the guise of “catching up.” Perhaps I was to blame, as I’d suggested we'd remain friends post-breakup. Here's a valuable tip: Never offer to stay friends unless you genuinely mean it. It’s a slippery slope lined with emotional pitfalls. After abandoning my phone on the countertop, I seized a water bottle from the fridge, mentally shelving the whole Percy thing until I could get dressed. As I was tossing the empty bottle into the trash, a familiar sound of meowing reached my ears, piercing the blissful silence. Thanks to the thin walls of my condo, I could hear every pitter-patter of Lucy, Priya's escape-artistry feline who was relentless in her pursuits of freedom. Swallowing my irritation, I reluctantly opened my door to let in a rush of cool air. I stepped outside, clutching the towel tightly. “Lucy?” I called, adopting a singsong tone, reminding myself to keep frustration at bay. One slip of annoyance, and Lucy would dart down the hall like a rocket propelled by a mission. Meadow Hill wasn't your typical apartment complex—no towering buildings of endless condos here. The architect had envisioned a beach resort, dreamily sprawled across fifteen quaint two-story buildings that housed four condos each, surrounded by lush lawns, tennis courts, and a swimming pool. Each time Lucy escaped, it felt like a fleeting opportunity to witness an epic showdown. Last time, Niall, my other downstairs neighbor, nearly had a meltdown when Lucy slipped past him just as he returned home. “Lucy?” I called again, the jingling of her collar ringing like a beacon. The little rascal appeared atop the stairs, all poise and sass, glaring down at me defiantly as if to say, “Well, what are you going to do about it?” My knees pushed to the ground, trying to be at her level. “You, my dear, are nothing but a furry little minion of the underworld.” Her judgmental gaze held steady, and she dismissed me with a nonchalant lick of her paw as if my words had no merit. “I mean it. You definitely came straight from hell, delivered right by Satan himself. Are you tormenting me for sport?” “Meow,” she replied, unblinking. My jaw fell open. I swear she just confirmed my suspicion! Just then, a chorus of voices erupted from the lobby as footsteps thundered up the staircase. Lucy bolted past me, an agile leap that sent her sailing through the crack of my open door. Startled, I stumbled forward, hands shooting out instinctively to catch myself. In doing so, I completely lost my grip on my towel. It fluttered to the ground, just as a shadow loomed above me. “Whoa! You okay there, Dixon?” came a deep, teasing voice. In a frantic bid to shield my exposed form, I scrambled to hide what I could, yet my two hands could barely cover the critical zones. “Oh my God, look away!” I commanded, snatching the towel off the floor and hastily wrapping it around myself. To their credit, the boys turned away, finishing the job that modesty couldn’t. My heart raced as I recognized the three hockey players staring down at me—Shane Lindley had to be one of them. And of all the times to get into an embarrassing situation, why now? “Oh no,” I muttered, dread curling in my stomach as Shane’s amused eyes met mine. “No. It’s today?” “Yep,” Shane grinned triumphantly, flashing a set of perfect white teeth. Satan strikes again. Shane was moving in. Thank heavens it wasn’t with me—sharing an apartment with that cocky jerk was entirely out of the question. Unfortunately, he’d be living just a floor below me. His wealthy parents had deemed him worthy of an upgrade, purchasing the unit adjacent to mine, which had been vacant ever since my previous neighbor, Chandra, had moved to Maine. My best friend, Gigi, was married to Shane’s best friend, Ryder; she’d given me a heads-up about the move coming so soon, but a specific day would’ve been nice to know beforehand. I totally would have been better prepared, avoiding this calamity altogether. “Don’t worry, we didn’t see anything,” Will Larsen chimed in, his boy-next-door grin setting me slightly at ease. “I saw your tits and one butt cheek,” Beckett Dunne added helpfully. I didn’t know whether to roll my eyes or humiliate myself further by laughing. With his perfect visage and charming accent, Beckett was undeniably attractive, yet the words that spilled from his lips fell intriguingly harmless rather than excessively crude. “Erase that from your memory!” I shot back. “Impossible,” he retorted, his wink sending my insides into a comical twist. Turning back to Shane, my humor quickly faded. “Is it too late to reconsider this whole living arrangement? Maybe we could exchange places instead?” “Not happening,” Shane replied, amusement dancing in his dark brown eyes. “I’m sure your parents dropped a fortune on renovations,” I grumbled, the reality settling in like a thick fog. “What kind of changes did you make anyway? A typical man cave for a guy of your… well, tastes?” The tall athlete’s smirk gave way to knowing laughter, and his dark hair looked effortlessly styled against the underpinning of his tanned skin. “You don’t need to act tough in front of the guys, you know,” Shane teased, crossing his arms confidently. “Everyone is aware of your little crush.” “Right. If anything, the only one here crushing hard is you,” I retorted, raising an eyebrow and fighting back the blush that threatened to engulf me. The reality was that Shane was undeniably gorgeous: tall, athletic, and sporting dimples that could charm the socks off anyone while sporting a buzz cut that somehow suited him exceptionally well. Yet, my resolve remained firm—I refused to let his looks sway me, no matter how charmingly he grinned. While Will’s gaze swept over my towel-wrapped form, I narrowed my eyes. “You can look all you want, but I promise you, this towel isn’t slipping down again.” “Good,” he grinned. “Just so we’re clear, I wouldn’t mind witnessing it.” “Nope, sorry—let’s shift gears here. If you’re expecting a welcome party or a parade when you move in, don’t hold your breath. My new mission is to navigate my life without ever crossing paths with you.” “Good luck with that!” Shane’s dark eyes twinkled with mischief. “Because my new goal is to be your best friend and spend every spare moment together. Oh, by the way, I’m throwing a party this weekend. We should co-host; we can keep both our doors open—” “Absolutely not!” I interrupted, jabbing an index finger in the air for emphasis. “That’s just not happening. Now, you two.” I shot a pointed look at Will and Beckett. “Why don’t you hop along and wait for him in his apartment? Shane and I need to set the rules of engagement.”