Ariadne: …You guys know this is the group text, right?
Britney: shhh i likereading it
The cool night air hit my flushed cheeks as I stepped out of the gym, feeling the burn in my forearms. Burn was a light term. They felt like they were on fire. People rock climbed for fun?
I adjusted the strap of the gym bag on my shoulder and glanced at Landon, who seemed infuriatingly unbothered by the whole experience. His hair was slightly mussed, his shirt clung to his back in a few places, but he looked like he could do another round without breaking a sweat.
“How are you not in any pain?” I asked as we approached his car. “My fingers feel like they’re about to fall off.”
Landon grinned, tossing his bag into the trunk. “It’s about trust. You were clinging to the wall like it was about to collapse under you. Trust your feet.”
That wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. If indoor rock climbing taught me anything, it was that gravity was a scam.
“Okay, Spider-Man.”
He opened the passenger door for me, the movement casual but thoughtful, and I slid in. As he rounded the car to the driver’s side, I took a moment to catch my breath. My heart was racing, not from the climbing, but from the lingering energy between us.
Landon got into the driver’s seat, the smell of chalk and faint cologne filling the car. He adjusted the rearview mirror and offered me that mischievous grin of his. “You did good, though. At least for someone who kept muttering ‘I’m going to die’ the whole time.”
“It was scary!” I shot back, trying not to smile. “And I didn’t say it the entire time. Just most of it.”
He laughed, the sound warm and unguarded, and my stomach flipped. “Well, you made it to the top. That’s what counts. I’m proud of you.”
The way he said it—earnest, with no teasing lilt—made me glance away, suddenly unsure where to put my hands.
“Thanks,” I said, focusing on the dashboard.
Landon started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. “So, ready for part two of doing something scary today?”
“There’s a part two?”
“I’m taking you to my apartment,” he said casually, eyes on the road but his lips twitching like he knew exactly what he was doing.
“Oh.” My voice came out higher than intended.
I’d never been to his apartment before. Well, at least not inside it.
“It’s not a haunted house,” he said, glancing at me.
I laughed nervously. “I’m not sure what’s scarier, rock climbing or seeing the disaster zone you call your apartment.”
“Definitely my apartment,” he deadpanned.
My sore muscles were happy to see that the interior of Landon’s apartment complex had a working elevator. The key word beingworking. There technically was an elevator in Macey’s and my apartment complex, but I was pretty sure it stopped working the day we moved in.
The elevator ride up to the apartment was filled with consistent elevator beeps and my heartbeat, which I worried was loud enough to echo off the metal walls. When the doors slid open, I followed him down a dimly lit hallway with beige carpeting and scuff marks along the edges.
Landon stopped in front of a door marked 4B and fished his keys out of his pocket. He pushed open the door, flicked on the light, and moved aside to let me in. I hesitated for a second before stepping over the threshold.
The apartment was small but warm, with the kind of lived-in charm that spoke to Landon’s personality. The main living area included a soft, overstuffed gray couch with a blanket draped across the back, a matching chair, and a coffee table covered in coasters, an old comic book, and a couple of empty mugs. A flat-screen TV was mounted on the wall above a battered media console that held a PlayStation.
The kitchen was visible from the living room, separated by an island with two mismatched barstools. The counters were clean; a half-full fruit bowl perched in the middle.
Framed movie posters and Polaroid photos pinned haphazardly in a grid brought life to the space. My gaze caught on an old family photo of Landon, Liam, Aimee, and Mason on the couch, probably taken a few years before Mason’s cancer diagnosis.
“I forgot how handsome your dad was,” I said.
Landon stood behind me. “Yeah. If only he had passed down more of those genes.”
