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But when she specifically thought about it beingAsathat wasn’t speaking to her, she felt… queasy? Was that it? It was subtle and sort of in the pit of her stomach. And if she focused on it, she could accidentally hurt her own feelings.
It was just…
He was so easy to talk to. Sort of like Nash Ellis that way. He had knowledge and experience she didn’t. He saw the world differently, but he spoke in a way that she understood.
She knew, rationally, she couldn’tmakesomeone be her friend.
And she didn’t need Asa’s acceptance or approval to validate her existence. She was a valid human being with or without anyone else saying it.
Right?
She realized she was chewing on her lower lip again and purposefully stopped, flopping her arms down by her sides in frustration.
Maybe she should just confront him and ask him what it was he didn’t like about her.
She opened the security camera app on her phone and watched him come in the door.
He was in dark pants and a button-up shirt. He had a large shoulder bag slung across his body.
He carefully closed the garage door, input the alarm code, and reset it for the night. He glanced at the stairwell and paused several seconds before going to his room.
She waited for him to close his bedroom door before she slipped from her bed, silent as a cat in her fluffiest socks.
Sliding past the elevator, she padded down the four flights of stairs to the lower level.
She crouched close to the wall and peered around the corner.
The door to his room was still closed. He was definitely still in there. And probably still awake. If she knocked on the door, she wouldn’t be waking him.
But he would definitely think she was spying on him. Which she kind of was.
Okay, Z. You’ve gone full stalker.
What was she doing? Spying on him like a little kid?
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
If she wanted to talk to him, she should just walk right up to him and talk to him.
Or maybe she could get Cas or Devan to hold him down first.
As she crouched on the stairs in the dark, ruminating on all her poor life choices that had brought her here, soft guitar strumming filtered through the solid door and reached her ears.
She sat down on the step and just listened.
He started and stopped and started over, finding the melody.
Goosebumps raised along her arms and the back of her neck.
His deep voice joined the guitar, too soft for her to make out the words.
She rested her head against the wall and just listened.
The music and his voice soothed that anxious feeling deep in her chest that she’d never lived without. The one she kept hidden because she had long believed it was just part of who she was.
Soon after that, her limbs grew heavy and her eyes got harder to keep open.
Silently, she retreated back up the stairs, turned off the light in her room, and crawled into her bed.
