Page 69 of Callan

Have they entered my building?

I zip around and head back, forgetting my phone on the window sill and my keys on the counter.

Never mind. I don’t have time to grab them.

Wearing slippers, my pajamas, and my bathrobe, I pull at my hair to gather it into a bun on the top of my head while walking casually out of my apartment and leaving my door slightly openso I don’t get locked out, which happened once since I moved here.

Thinking about a good reason why I may be walking to the stairwell if anyone has asked, I listen to the chaotic noise in the building.

There is the clamor upstairs. The music. The giggling. And then there are the steps trailing up the stairs. I’m way more interested in them and where they’re headed.

Making as little noise as I can, I float toward the stairwell, where I stop and look down.

A man’s broad shoulders catch my eye when I glimpse his back. He reaches the landing and pivots toward me before taking the next flight of stairs and inching closer to my floor.

His eyes meet mine, and I melt inside, entirely losing my focus and experiencing a surreal sensation.

It’s like I’m looking at a movie and not a real man closing the distance between us.

His long coat renders him even more mesmerizing, and his eyes harboring a touch of dark green amber glimmer even more enthralling now.

Feverishly, I search for a smile on his face.

Even the hint of a smile.

The slightest trace of a grin.

A voice blares in my head, directing me to go back.

“What are you doing here?” he asks quietly once he pulls in front of me, and I have to tilt my face up to keep my eyes locked with his.

He slipped his words under his breath as if he didn’t want to drawn anyone’s attention to us. Assuming that some of the guests might roam outside Carmen’s apartment.

But there’s no one in the stairwell. No one besides us.

A soft carol drifts down from a different apartment than the one hosting the party.

He’s going to that woman.

He’s a guest as well.

Maybe he is more than that.

“Mackenzie?”

His voice moves like a snake across my skin, and it dawns on me that I have a story to tell. Even if it’s a lie.

I still need to give him an explanation to erase the impression that I’ve been waiting for him.

Italsodawns on me that he looks smashing in his black clothes, shiny shoes, and fashionable coat.

And also that his watch gleams like his eyes, a marvel of beauty and precision.

His lips have that magic dust, making it impossible for me to look elsewhere. I, on the other hand, am nothing like that.

I look like I’ve fallen out of the dryer, smelling nice but crumpled.

“I was…”

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