holding his hand,
leaning into whatever stupid, reckless thing this might be.
And the truth?
I kinda love it.
His jaw’s tight now,
muscle ticking again, smile gone,
eyes focused, no more charm.
Wherever he's taking me?
We’re almost there.
At the top of the stairwell,
Andrew pulls a keycard from his pocket.
Swipes.
The door unlocks with a quietclick.
“Are you?—”
He turns, pressing a finger to his lips.
Then there’s another door?—
one you’re clearly not supposed to enter.
A crowbar’s wedged between the rusted hinges, holding it open.
Andrew exhales through his nose.
The sign above it reads:
Emergency Exit: Authorized Personnel Only.
My heart’s pounding with excitement or fear.
The line between the two doesn’t exist anymore.
Andrew slips through
as if he’s done this before.
I go with him.
'Cause I'm stupid.
We pass rusted pipes, buckets,
abandoned metal boxes labeled in Sharpie.
The room smells like rust
