Celeste’s POV.
I wake up to the sound of banging on my front door. For the love of god. Who and why? It’s I look at my phone and groan. Six in the damn morning.
The banging intensifies and I rip the quilt back and storm through the little apartment to the front door and look through the peephole and see Carl, my boss, with his arms folded and tapping his foot like a petulant three-year-old.
I pull the door open, keeping the chain in place.
“Carl, do you have any idea what time it is?” I snap at him because I am tired and pissed that the douche-canon who is evicting me is standing outside my door.
“I am aware of the time, Celeste. I see you saw the notice. I’m here to give you this.” He says, holding up an envelope with my name on it before he pushes it through the gap.
“I am not you
