3

~NORA

A loud, guttural noise jolted me awake.

I blinked against the sunlight streaming through the tall windows, groggy and disoriented. It took a moment to remember where I was—the suite, the ridiculous fiasco at the front desk, and of course, Mr. Arrogant. I sat up, my body stiff from sleeping on the couch, and glanced around.

There he was. The man himself, sprawled out on the opposite couch, looking infuriatingly at ease. His arms were crossed, his head tilted slightly to the side, and his legs stretched out like he owned the place. The wineglass from last night sat on the table in front of him, empty now.

Then it hit me—the noise that woke me up. Oh God. Was that me?

I cringed. Please tell me I wasn't snoring. The smug tilt of his lips as he opened one eye confirmed my worst fear.

"Good morning," he said, low and slow, like he had all the time in the world to annoy me. "You're quite the symphony when you sleep, you know."

Heat crawled up my neck. "Excuse me?"

"You were snoring." He smirked, his blue eyes glinting with amusement. "Loudly."

"I was not."

"You were," he countered, sitting up and stretching. "But don't worry. It was almost charming."

"Charming?!" My voice pitched higher than I intended. I scrambled to my feet, brushing imaginary wrinkles off my clothes. "You're delusional."

He shrugged, entirely unfazed, and stood as well. I quickly looked away—why did he have to look so good in the morning? It wasn't fair.

Ignoring him, I dug through my suitcase, pulling out my toiletries and a fresh outfit. I needed to get out of this, if only for a little while. Maybe a hot shower would wash away the embarrassment of snoring in front of Mr. Arrogant.

He leaned against the doorframe, watching me with that infuriating smirk. "What are you doing?"

"None of your business," I snapped, clutching my things. "And don't even think about touching my side of the room while I'm gone."

"Relax," he drawled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Your half of the luxury suite is safe. Though, I have to say, this territorial thing you've got going on? Highly entertaining."

I glared at him before making my escape toward the bathroom. The shared suite wasn't enormous, but it had enough to keep us from killing each other—two couches (that apparently doubled as beds), a small dining table, and a modest bathroom tucked into the corner.

The hot water was a relief, washing away the stiffness from the awkward couch sleep and the frustration of dealing with my unwanted roommate. As I lathered shampoo into my hair, I replayed the events of the past 24 hours. Jake's betrayal. The storm. The canceled flights. And now, Mr. Arrogant, who seemed determined to push every single one of my buttons.

I sighed, rinsing the soap out of my hair. It was five days to Christmas, and instead of sipping hot cocoa by a cozy fire, I was stuck sharing a suite with a stranger who thought my snoring was "charming."

By the time I returned to the room, I felt slightly more human. My hair was damp, and I'd changed into a sweater and jeans. Mr. Arrogant was scrolling through his phone with a bored expression.

I set about organizing my things, determined to ignore him. But as I unpacked, something occurred to me. I still didn't know his name.

Not that I cared, of course. But calling him Mr. Arrogant in my head forever didn't seem practical.

"So," I said, breaking the silence. "Do you have a name, or should I just keep calling you Mr. Arrogant?"

He looked up, his eyebrows lifting in amusement. "Mr. Arrogant, huh? That's creative."

"I thought so," I said, crossing my arms. "But seriously. What's your name?"

"Liam," he said after a beat, his smirk softening slightly. "Liam Carter."

"Liam," I repeated, testing it out. It didn't suit him at all. Liam sounded friendly and approachable. This man was anything but.

"What about you?" he asked, leaning back against the couch.

"Nora," I said shortly.

"Well, Nora," he said, the teasing edge back in his tone. "It's a pleasure to be your roommate."

I rolled my eyes and turned back to my suitcase.

The rest of the morning passed uneventfully. I spent most of it arranging my things, trying to carve out some sense of normalcy in this bizarre situation. Liam mostly stayed quiet, alternating between his phone and a book he'd pulled out of his bag.

At one point, a staff member knocked on the door, delivering a weather update. "The storm's gotten worse," she informed us. "It's unlikely any flights will resume until after Christmas."

"Fantastic," I muttered under my breath as she left.

Liam shot me a glance but said nothing, returning to his book.

I glanced out the window, the snowstorm raging harder than before. The flakes swirled violently, the wind howling like it was determined to trap us here. My chest tightened with frustration.

I was still staring at the snow when I heard Liam chuckle. "What's so funny?" I snapped, turning to glare at him.

"You," he said, not looking up from his book. "You're acting like being here is the worst thing in the world."

"Because it is," I shot back. "I didn't sign up to spend Christmas stuck in a suite with you."

"Could be worse," he said with a shrug.

"How?"

"You could be stuck with someone who snores louder than you," he said, flashing me a grin.

I grabbed a pillow off the couch and threw it at him, but he caught it effortlessly, his laughter echoing in the small room.

—

That evening, as I sat curled up on my side of the suite, the reality of my situation started to sink in. I was truly stuck here, at least until the storm passed.

Liam was still on his side, flipping through a magazine now. He seemed entirely unbothered, which only made me more irritated. How could he be so calm about all this?

"Don't you have somewhere you'd rather be?" I asked suddenly.

He looked up, surprised by the question. "Not particularly."

"You're telling me you don't have any Christmas plans?"

He hesitated, a flicker of something I couldn't quite place crossing his face. "Not this year."

Before I could ask what he meant, he stood and grabbed his coat. "I'm going for a walk."

"In this weather?"

"Why not?" He gave me a lazy smile. "Don't miss me too much."

I rolled my eyes as he left, but his words lingered in my mind longer than I cared to admit.

—

When Liam returned, his cheeks were pink from the cold, and snowflakes clung to his hair. He shook them off like a dog, sending a spray of melted ice in my direction.

"Seriously?" I said, wiping my arm.

"Consider it revenge for the pillow," he said, dropping back onto the couch.

I glared at him but didn't bother responding. Instead, I turned my attention to the window, where the snowstorm raged on.

As much as I hated to admit it, Liam was right about one thing: it could be worse.

But that didn't mean it wasn't bad enough already.