“Have fun on the roof,” he says, walking inside and closing the door behind him.
I seethe with anger, stalking towards the elevator. I make a sharp left last minute.
I think I’ll take the stairs. Too much energy to burn. I open the glass door and start the three-floor trek.
I've lived in this building for a year, but I’ve never had a normal conversation with Matt. The guy just knows how to get on my last nerve, which is particularly weird because I’m nice to everyone. Even Marge on the eighth floor, who unloads unsolicited gossip on me every time I’m unlucky enough to run into her.
The first time I saw the man, I’ll admit, I was struck silent. I mean, look at him! But he just sniffed at me like I’m a day-old trash bag that slipped out of the garbage disposal.
Eventually, his scowl turned into quips and casual flirting. The switch gave me whiplash for days. No smile, no greeting, just that smirk with sharp come-ons that always hit the bullseye.
But it never goes further than that, so I know the guy isn’t serious. Besides, I wouldn’t want to make our neighbor relationship awkward. What if I have a sugar emergency?
Also, the guy’s a jerk. I always tend to forget that, especially when his dimples are on display.
By the second flight of stairs, I am reassessing my reaction to Matt. Why did I suddenly think I was in a damn romcom, running up the stairs to work out my aggression? I’m not anaggressive person, and I’m definitely not a fit person.
Suddenly, I hear a growl from somewhere downstairs. I lean over the banister, almost on an impulse, searching for the dog who made the sound.
Instead, my eyes catch on a man three floors down. The old grumpy man from 8D? No wait, his face looks different, sharper, somehow. And he’s taller, bigger. Isn’t he over seventy? How is he already two floors down? And why the fuck is he crouched down, climbing the stairs like a damn toddler on all fours?
He looks up, his eyes meeting mine. My legs freeze without explanation. Are theyglowing? I can’t be sure. He’s too far away.
Then he’s gone. It couldn’t have taken him more than a couple of seconds to climb down five flights of stairs.
I can’t move. My heart is beating like it’s trying to rip out of my chest, my breath heavy. Static fills my ears. What did I just see?
After a few minutes, the silence of the empty staircase returns, and I’m dropped back into reality.
Run, my mind repeats over and over.
I blink fast and give moving my legs a shot. I slowly start climbing down, my body shivering. I’m scared. Of the old man? No, he wasn’t the same man who glared at me in the elevator last week.
My brain is too scrambled to make sense of anything right now. All I know is that I need the safety of a locked door between me and the world right now.
When I reach my floor again, I almost run back to my apartment.
This is why I don’t listen to those fitness freak gurus talking about replacing elevator rides with stairs. No, it isn’t good formy heart!
I yank my keys from my pocket, and an AirPod bud falls on the floor. I pick it up and shove it back. The keys jiggle in my hand.Calm down, Oliver!
But what was that? How was a seventy-year-old man so fast? Why did he look so big? He didn’t look human, did he? Was I hallucinating? Why the fuck would this door not open already?
I try to fit the key in the tiny hole on the knob, but it doesn't go in. On the second try, it falls. The noise sounds like a gunshot in the empty hallway. I pick it up and try again.
C’mon! C’mon! C’mon!
It still won’t go in. I will my hands to stay still, but they’re not listening. None of my body parts are.
A door behind me opens with a bang. I whip around, clutching my chest.
Matt looks at me, frowning with… anger? No, it’s concern.
He walks towards me, as if he can’t help himself. Then he’s right there, filling my vision with his whiskey eyes. My brain feels like it’s running a second behind, like I’m in a daze.
“Oliver?” he asks, low, almost a whisper.
When I don’t say anything, his expression changes. He looks angry. Dangerous. He scans both ways down the hallway, ready to murder the first person he sees. When he doesn’t find a target, his eyes land back on me.
