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I went through my usual morning routine on autopilot. Shower, coffee, toast, makeup. The whole time, my mind buzzed with anxieties. Would I be able to pay off my student loan in time? Could I get a job in London? What about a flat? Would Hannah let me flat with her? How would I divide my time between work and travel?
Stop it. You’ll figure it out.
I stepped outside the building, letting the door swing shut behind me. It made a satisfying clunk as it closed.
Wait a second.
That sound was unfamiliar. I turned back and pulled the handle. The door wouldn’t budge. It was locked.
Has it been fixed?
I opened the door with my key card and tried it once more, in case it was a fluke. The door swung shut on its own and locked securely.
There was no other explanation. The door had been repaired. Hooray! No more worrying about packages getting stolen or strangers wandering into the building.
But when had it happened? It wasn’t like this yesterday, and I hadn’t noticed any work being done.
I shrugged. No time to dwell on the mysteries of apartment maintenance. I had a job to get to.
As I prepared Neil’s morning coffee, I wondered whether it would be awkward to mention that I had seen him last night. Just casually. Maybe he’d tell me who that woman was. I was curious about her. That’s all.
The smell of the black coffee wafted from the mug, waking my senses as I walked to Neil’s office. Neil didn’t seem to register my approach. He sat at his desk, working on his computer, the cuffs of his shirt falling back to reveal a glimpse of his strong forearms. Lines of concentration creased his forehead.
The coffee cup made a thunk as I set it in front of him. I cleared my throat.
I’m going to do it. I’m going to say something about last night.
Neil stopped typing and looked at me. The words that were on the tip of my tongue dried up.
“What?” Neil asked.
I couldn’t do it. I was too embarrassed to admit I had seen him.
Neil scrutinised me, unblinking. I had to say something. “The door of my apartment building has been fixed,” I blurted.
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“I know.”
It took me a second to process what his odd reaction meant. “Are you telling me you’re behind it? You got someone to fix it?”
“I don’t like you living in a place with such a lax definition of security.”
“Why are you so concerned about my security?”
“Because you’re associated with me.”
“And being associated with you puts me at risk, does it?”
Neil ground his teeth, the throbbing vein on his forehead a telltale sign I was annoying him. “Just do your job and stop asking questions.”
“But—”
He glowered at me.
Wow. He was in a foul mood today.
