To mix two ingredients thoroughly.

my skin as I climbed the last flight of steps. It was a warm day, the first of many I knew would come this summer. I stopped in front of the door marked 2A, set the boxes down, then reached for my key.

It took several tries to twist the key in. The lock wasn't rusty but new—much like the flat itself. In fact, everything about this building seemed new, from the stain-free floors to the pristine white walls.

A sudden bump against the back of my knee made me jump. I turned around in surprise. "Oh, hello!"

This had to be the prettiest golden retriever I'd ever seen. Its bright eyes shone with boundless energy, and its sleek brown fur was the kind only young dogs had. It gave a short bark and wagged its tail as it looked up at me.

"It's nice to meet you too," I said, as I held out a hand for it to sniff. When the dog gave my fingers a quick lick, I smiled and dropped to my knees to rub its neck. "What's your name?" I wondered, and ran my hand along the collar to check. "Chip. Hello, Chip. I'm your new neighbour, Sugar."

The dog whined and burrowed further into my touch. I giggled when Chip licked my face, then I looked across the landing to flat 2B. Perhaps whoever lived there owned this dog?

As if on cue, a sharp, piercing whistle cut through the peace.

Chip let out a sharp bark in return and dashed off. Upstairs. There was only the fourth floor left, so Chip's owner must've lived above me. I smiled and watched the dog leave, just as Stella came trudging up the stairs.

"Bloody stairs," she wheezed, as she set the last box down. She patted her stomach, as though to check if her tiny baby bump was still intact, before she scowled at me. "If I wanted to hike up a mountain I would've joined a mountain-climbing expedition. Brand new building and they couldn't even install a bloody lift!"

I laughed. "Good thing I live on the second floor, then."

"If you lived any higher you'd be doing the moving alone."

"You know I'm eternally grateful that you helped me move one box, right?"

"Piss off," she grumbled, and aimed a half-hearted kick at the box with her black boot. "Who the hell has that many cookbooks? There are only a finite number of ways one can bake brownies."

"The cookbooks are useful since I never went to culinary school." I shrugged and then turned around to twist the key in the lock. "Anyway, speaking of brownies..."

The sweet scent of freshly-baked cakes wafted through as I opened the door. I'd made a batch earlier this morning and left it out to cool. I figured it'd make a great thank-you to Stella, who'd driven me to pick up my things from storage.

"Yes!" She pushed past me and bustled into the kitchen where the brownies were. While she feasted on the cakes, I pushed the remaining boxes in.

There. Done. I'd officially moved into my new home. I shut the door and looked around. Sunlight flitted in through sheer curtains; casting long shadows on the floor. The walls were a soft yellow, with a blend of brown and white furniture that the previous owner left behind. Living room, kitchen, one bedroom, one spare guest room, one bathroom. Small, simple, perfect.

Home.

"I love this place already," I said to Stella. "If I'd known how great this flat was, I would've moved sooner. Did you talk to the landlord for me yet?"

"Yes. You can stay for as long as you want."

My smile widened. "That's so nice of her. And thank you for talking to her for me. I just can't believe how affordable the rent for this flat is. You didn't...you didn't blackmail her into renting me this place, did you?" I asked, suddenly suspicious. Honestly, I wouldn't put it past Stella to do something like that.

"Please! I would never do such a thing. At least, not anymore," she added, when I raised my eyebrows at her. "Trust me, this is the real deal."

"Do you think I should get her something? As a thank you, I mean."

"That might be difficult considering she's out of the country," Stella pointed out. "But I'll pass on your thanks to her. Honestly, I wouldn't even worry about it. There are much more important things to focus on now—like the fact that you're finally settled in." She waved vaguely around the living room, and lifted the platter of cakes to me in a mock salute. "To new beginnings."

With a smile, I took a brownie from her. "Cheers."

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

I trudged up the last flight of stairs, feeling a little lightheaded. Although I'd laughed when Stella had complained about them, I now understood why she had. After a solid thirty-minute run, I wished more than ever for a lift.

But my fatigue momentarily vanished when I heard a patter of footsteps. A happy bark, then a flash of brown fur. I fell back against the bannister, laughing as Chip pounced on me. His furry paws scrapped at my knees, tail wagging with all the enthusiasm in the world.

"Hello again!" I held Chip by one paw, then stared in surprise when the dog dropped down on his hind quarters, posed as though we were shaking hands. I grinned and lowered myself so that I could look him in the eye. "Someone's been raised with good manners."

The words had barely left my mouth when Chip licked me right across my cheek. I laughed and leaned away when he tried to do it again. I didn't mind dog drool on my face, but preferably not in my hair, which was already sweaty enough.

"Or maybe not," I mused, as I scrubbed my cheek against my sleeve and rubbed Chip's neck. "So where's your owner, hmm? Or do you want to come to my place for awhile to wait? You should be so lucky, really, I never let strangers in. But I'll make an exception for you."

I went to unlock the door, just as a whistle cut through the air. The same one—sharp and piercing, that made Chip bark in return.

This time, however, he didn't leave.

Distant footsteps echoed down the stairwell and I glanced up, curious to meet Chip's elusive owner. A pair of white Adidas, then black track pants, and a pale grey shirt. My eyes widened as the person finally came into view.

"Parker?"

He stopped in his tracks. "Hey."

I hadn't seen Parker Collins since the day of the wedding. That had been an eventful day, what with it being my last catering gig and the groom's nephew trying to drug a bridesmaid. I still had his jacket because he was nowhere to be found for the rest of the reception.

But here he was.

"I—I can't believe it's you," I breathed and stepped towards him. "Do you...live here?"

He swallowed and nodded, then swiftly descended the last few steps. Even though we now stood on levelled ground, and I wasn't short by any means, he still towered over me by half a head. In fact, it felt much more, given his broad chest and the way he squared his shoulders. "I live at 3A," he said.

"Oh, that's great!" What were the odds of having Parker as my neighbour? My smile widened at the thought. "I guess this means I'm right under you. I live right under you," I hastily corrected when he raised his eyebrows. My cheeks reddened and I waved feebly towards my flat. "Over there at 2A."

He glanced at my door and nodded. A stilted silence followed for a moment, but it was thankfully interrupted when Chip gave a small whine. Parker looked down; a tiny smile playing on his lips. "I see you found the little troublemaker. Or rather, he found you. Hope he hasn't bothered you too much."

"Of course not. I love dogs and yours is great. He was the first one to welcome me into this building."

Parker's smile turned wry. "Yeah, you won't be saying that once he's stolen your shoe for his private collection."

"If he wants these ratty old things, he can have them," I said, gesturing towards my old running shoes. It suddenly occurred to me how scruffy they looked, with holes on each side, frayed laces and mud tracked all over them. My filthy, no-name shoes couldn't look more different next to his Adidas.

And it wasn't just our shoes, I realised in dismay. I'd just come back from my run and I was certain I looked a mess, what with my flyaway hair and sweat dripping everywhere. I'd worn an old pink tank top and green running shorts, two colours that definitely did not match, because I honestly didn't think anyone would care given it was just a jog around the neighbourhood.

In contrast, Parker looked like he'd just stepped out of the shower. Or a model shoot. Imagining him in either was delightful in my mind. His dark hair clung to his forehead; his scent fresh and crisp. His clothes were dark—a direct contrast to my bright neon colours.

I bit my lip and shifted on my feet. "So...how long have you lived here?"

"Long enough," was his vague reply. "And you?"

"Just over a week."

"And how're you finding it?"

"I love it," I gushed, smiling again. "It's much better than my old place. Quieter and more convenient too. It's so much easier to get to my interviews now."

"Interviews?" He frowned. "Are you looking for a job?"

I nodded. "I have plenty of bills to pay. I'm hoping to get something in the culinary business, but I don't exactly have the qualifications for it. If nothing else works, I'll settle for waitressing."

"Don't give up so quickly. Qualifications aren't everything. Experience counts too."

I smiled. "I won't."

Another pause followed. Parker didn't speak, but just like that day at the reception, he didn't seem inclined to move away either. I opened my mouth to say something, but Chip let out a short bark.

Parker looked down and shook his head. "I guess that's my cue to get going."

He shot me an apologetic look, then lowered himself to loop the leash around Chip's collar. I watched them, smiling a little when I saw how patiently Chip waited at his feet. But my smile faded when I noticed Parker's hands. Long fingers sifted through Chip's fur, swiftly clipping on the leash like he'd done in a dozen times before. For a moment, I wondered how his hands would feel sliding through my hair, mapping the small of my back, deftly undoing my—

Parker cleared his throat and stood up. I met his gaze with an innocent smile, cheeks still flushed, and tried to pretend like I hadn't just spent the last few seconds imagining his hands running all over my body.

"So, listen," he said, "if you need a job, I know of a few. They might not be in your usual line of work, but I could arrange something if you want."

I shook my head. "That's okay. I already owe you a lot, what with that time you helped me out at school and at the wedding. I don't want to owe you any more."

"And I don't owe you?"

"What?"

For a split second, I thought I saw a flash of uncertainty in his eyes. But that calm mask returned in a blink and he shook his head. "Nothing," he said and wound Chip's leash around his wrist. "I should go."

I tried not to look too disappointed. After all, we were neighbors now. I'd see him again. Hopefully soon. "Of course. Have a nice walk."

He nodded and led Chip off. I watched them head down the stairs. A familiar flutter had returned to my stomach—one that I hadn't felt in ages, one that I'd only ever felt around him. Suddenly, I couldn't stop his name from slipping past my lips. "Hey, Parker?"

He stopped. "Yeah?"

I smiled at him. "Thanks." For offering me a job. For coming back into my life. For making me feel this way, because I didn't realise I ever could again.

He nodded, his eyes fixed on my face for a moment before he turned away.