I was in a deep sleep when I heard someone bump into things and cuss up a storm. Ugh, I'm so glad people think of people needing sleep. I propped myself up to see a figure bumping into things while throwing stuff around.

Oh, don't worry, buddy. I like to watch some guy invade my room, making a lot of noise. I watched as he stopped, made his way over to the bed, and fell onto it. What the hell?

I reached over and pushed him with my finger. "Hey, buddy. You have the wrong room," I whispered. He didn't budge. So, I tried to shake him until I heard snoring. Oh, hell no, I wasn't sleeping next to a dying bear. Not to mention, I didn't even know this guy.

Here's my theory. If he's planning on killing me, he'll need a good night's sleep. If not, we have a significant problem. I got up to make my great escape until a hand stopped me. The guy yanked me down onto the bed and engulfed me with their muscular arm.

Not that I mind a muscular arm around me, but I prefer it to be with someone I know, like Bryson Tilson. Thinking about him sent my heart racing. I haven't gotten the nerve to talk to him yet, but this year is the year.

"Will you shut up? I'm trying to sleep, and your yakking is keeping me from doing so." A pillow muffled the sound of their voice.

"Well, excuse me, but you barged into my room while I was sleeping."

"You mean my room."

"Um, no, it's my room."

He lifted his head and looked at me. The moonlight hit his face that showed his messy hair lying upon his forehead. "Nope, this is my room and has been for the past twenty years. Now shut up and go to bed. We can discuss this further in the morning." He threw his head back into the pillow.

Well, shit.

Lying next to me was none other than Nash Gray, the oldest of the Gray brothers. He was twenty and had been gone for the past year. Pat said something about him needing to find himself. I think he needed to find a personality, if you ask me. He was hot, but he was like a sack of wet potatoes, useless like his personality.

I wasn't sleeping in here with him. I got up only to get yanked back down and pulled into him. Then he inhaled. "Mmm, coconuts," he said. Did he freaking sniff me? Why the hell is this guy cuddling me, anyway? We hate each other.

I must have drifted off after I stopped trying to leave. It didn't matter because Nash would pull me back into the bed.

I awoke the next morning to see Nash changing. I had to admit that even if his personality was ass, he sure had a nice one.

"Take a picture. It'll last longer."

"What?"

"I said take a picture since you enjoy staring at my ass so much."

I narrowed my eyes as he smirked.

He pulled a tee-shirt over his head. "I'm glad to see you outgrown your ugly duckling stage, Maggie."

"Was that a compliment?"

"Sure, let's go with that." He rolled his eyes.

"Shouldn't you be finding yourself or something? Because I doubt you found your personality. You should leave and go find it again."

"Ouch." He placed his hand over his heart, feigning hurt. "Should that offend me? Because it didn't. But then again, your presence here is offensive enough."

I could feel my blood boil.

"Don't get mad. It's not like we haven't caught you staring at us through your bedroom window."

"I wasn't staring."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night. And you need to find another bed to sleep in tonight." He walked out of the room.

Fantastic. I had to deal with the other jerks who live here. And now, I deal with the king jerk himself. Ugh, my parents could not come home soon enough.