Maybe I’d gather more clarity on what to do about this creepy weirdo with a medical fetish once I’d had a good night’s sleep.
Someone was at the front door, ringing my doorbell like there was no tomorrow.
I groaned and rubbed my eyes before reaching for my phone.
Five thirty p.m.
I’d slept for three hours—and I wasn’t fucking done.
But whoever was at my door apparently hadn’t gotten the memo.
I got up, and the whole floor shifted beneath my feet, the walls spinning in circles. I stumbled, hitting something with my foot. Wetness seeped into my sock, then I finally found the back of my couch and held on to it for dear life until the world finally stopped taking me for a carousel ride.
Holy fuck, I did not like this dizziness one bit.
The doorbell buzzed again, and I groaned, then quickly crossed the rest of my apartment.
“What?” I barked into the intercom, then cringed. Whoever was at my door didn’t deserve my wrath. The creepy medical fetishist did.
“Grocery delivery for Finn Carpenter, apartment five E,” a male voice said.
I hadn’t ordered any groceries, had I?
Could one order groceries in a state of sleep deprivation and forget all about it?
Wait… the note.
Damn, I really shouldn’t have ripped it up.
The note had said something about groceries, right?
“Helloooo?”
Oh, right, the guy was still there.
“Uhm, yeah, come up, I guess,” I said, buzzing him in.
It wasn’t his fault that some random weirdo had hired him.
Wait… what if this guy was the weirdo?
What if he was trying to get access to my apartment like this? Pretending to be a delivery guy to get into my apartment and… what? Draw my blood to do a blood panel himself? Play doctor with me?
That was ridiculous.
Then again, thiswhole thingwas kind of ridiculous.
Maybe I should just close the door, talk to the guy through the safety of two layers of plywood and a bit of carton—my landlord definitely hadn’t splurged on a massive wooden door for this dingy apartment—and make him leave the groceries on my welcome mat.
I heard the low whirring of the old elevator, and my heart skipped a beat. Whatever I decided, I needed to decide fast.
Did I risk ending up as an unwilling participant in some kind of medical kink?
Or did I risk looking like a complete idiot who was too afraid to face a fucking delivery guy?
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open with a slight rattle.
A second later, a young guy stepped out, carrying two bags in his hand. Damn, the bags looked full, and there was a lot of fresh produce peeking out of the top. My stomach rumbled, but it was laced with pain. Lately, everything I ate hurt.
