Passing out on the couch because the TV show I settled for was boring is the last thing I meant to do. It’s dark out now, but I’m hungry and there’s nothing in the apartment that’s worth eating, besides the bag of junk food I stashed in my bedroom.
I put on my black leather jacket, and I pick my key out of my purse.
The pizza place is less than a five-minute walk from here.
I don’t know why my hand feels shaky as I open the door and look out into the well-lit apartment block’s hallway. I've never worried about taking a quick walk to a store or whatever at night before. I haven't ever thought twice about doing something like that.
My wrists get itchy, and I ignore the sensation.
I can’t let what happened affect me for the rest of my life.
I don’t want to be scared when I’m alone, or when it’s dark.
Stepping out into the hallway, I close the door and lock it behind me.
I feel a little better now that I’m out here.
This building is as safe as it gets in the city.
There’s a security system on the door that leads out to the street.
The building’s superintendent changes the code for the system once a month and emails the new code to everyone, apparently. I have the code saved in my phone, and Catherine told me her neighbor Jenny’s apartment number in case I forget it and need to be buzzed inside when Catherine’s not home.
Once I get outside, I find out it’s a little cold and windy tonight.
That stops me from thinking about anything else.
I move fast because I want to get to the restaurant as quickly as possible.
My hair is being blown about like crazy. It’s usually a wavy mess, but now it’s going to be a tangled wavy mess. I do not look forward to brushing it after this.
When I can finally see the red bricked building, I feel relieved.
I weave my way past a group of students to get to the front door.
My reflection in the dark glass is crazy. I try to pat my hair down a little, but the wind blows it right back up again. I smile wryly at myself and open the door.
Who cares if you look like a mess?
It’s not like you’re only here to flirt with a hot waiter, right?
Right?
My stomach rumbles and I tell myself that’s my answer.
I need food, and this place has some really great food.
That’s all.
I grab the door handle and push. There’s a little resistance, but then it springs open, and I stumble inside a couple steps before the wind seems to grab it closed again.
Letting out a breath, I straighten, and push my hair back from my face.
And holy hell on a Sunday …
I’ve literally never seen anything hotter than I’m seeing right now.
I think I just walked in on something incredibly intimate.