Page 6 of My Girl to Use

She looks away first. Keeps walking. And I find myself following. Not close enough to be obvious. Just…behind her. Watching. Curious. She reaches the building and shifts the baby slightly, adjusting her hold before pushing the door open with her shoulder. I step in a few seconds later, already knowing where she’s headed.

Second floor. Same as me. Interesting.

She takes the stairs, not the elevator, moving fast like she’s on a schedule only she understands. The baby is tucked securely against her chest while the tote bag keeps slipping down her shoulder. She nudges it back up without breaking stride, clearly used to juggling too many things at once.

I follow a few steps behind, quiet, observing more than I should. I wonder why she doesn’t have a stroller or carrier for the baby. We land on the second floor. She turns left. So do I. And then she stops before the door next to mine. Something kicks hard behind my sternum—not surprise. Closer to luck.

She shifts the baby again and digs into her bag for keys. Up close, I notice more details, faint shadows under her eyes, the kind that don’t come from one bad night but many. Her lips are slightly chapped—and something in me goes flat and certain and territorial, with no permission asked.

The baby makes a soft sound, a tiny whine, and she immediately adjusts him. Her entire focus snaps to him as if nothing else matters.

“I know, I know,” she murmurs under her breath, her voice soft but edged with exhaustion. “We’re inside in two seconds, okay? Just hang on.”

There’s something about that that pulls at me. The way she talks to him. The way she doesn’t panic and just handles it. I lean casually against the wall, watching for a second longer than I should, then push off it and step closer.

“Hey.”

She freezes. Just for a second. Then her shoulders square slightly before she turns her head. Those blue eyes land on me again, sharper this time. Up close, they’re even more striking—clear, guarded, and not at all welcoming.

“Hi,” she says quickly.

Her voice matches the rest of her, soft at first, but there’s steel underneath it.

I nod toward the door. “Neighbor.”

“I figured,” she replies, already turning back to her lock.

Dismissive. I almost smile.

“You been here long?” I ask anyway.

She gets the key in, twists it, and pushes the door open with her shoulder. “Nope,” she says, already stepping inside.

The baby lets out a louder cry this time, and her entire focus shifts instantly. Her expression softens in a way that almost makes me forget the question I want to ask.

“Okay, okay, I’ve got you,” she murmurs, disappearing further into the apartment.

And then, the door shuts in my face.

I stare at it for a second. Then I laugh, low and quiet.

“Alright,” I mutter under my breath.

I reach for my own door, unlocking it slowly, my mind still half on her. The way she looked at me like I was already a problem. The way she was dismissive. Most people don’t do that. Most people recognize me. Even when I’m not trying to be recognized.

She didn’t. Or she didn’t care. I’m not sure which one I like more.

I step into my apartment and shut the door behind me. The quiet settles in almost immediately, but it doesn’t feel the same as before. It’s not just empty now; it’s interrupted. Like something shifted the second she walked past me and didn’t even try to be polite about it.

I drop my keys on the counter and run a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly as I move further inside. Still, my attention drifts back to the wall we now share. A faint sound carries through. Soft. A baby crying.

I lean back against the counter, folding my arms as I stare at nothing in particular, the tension going out of me by degrees. It’s strange how fast the anger from earlier just…loses its edge. It’s still there, buried under everything else, but it’s not as loud.

Not compared to this. To the feeling of meeting her. I barely know her, and I already want my hands on whatever’sweighing her down, just to take it off her. I don’t examine that. I just note it, and note that it doesn’t scare me the way it should.

I push off the counter and walk toward the window, glancing out at the street below. Yet my focus keeps slipping back next door. To the girl who barely gave me the time of day. To the way she looked at me like she had no interest in anything I had to say.

Most people try too hard.