Page 72 of Callan

His lips have touched mine.

I can’t believe it.

He stops in the doorway and spins back to me unexpectedly.

“Do you need any help with your door?” he asks while I struggle to regain my focus.

“My door?”

“Yes. You just said you’d locked yourself out.”

“Um… No. I’ll go to the super. He has a set of keys. Don’t worry about me.”

I can’t believe I’m able to carry a normal conversation while my heart and stomach are free falling, and my legs feel like blobs of rubber.

His eyes stay on me for another second before he rips his stare away and, without saying anything else, walks to the upper level.

I hate this with a vengeance.

Why does he have to go upstairs?

Harboring mixed feelings, I tighten my grip on the collar of my bathrobe and stroll back to my apartment.

Cold air moves around my ankles as I reach the end of the hallway and stop in front of my door.

Sunk in thought, I curl my fingers around the doorknob and push through when I suddenly come to a halt, hitting the hard, polished wooden surface.

“What the fuck?” I mutter, rattling the doorknob.

I look up and check the number to see if there has been the slightest possibility of having tried a different door.

And then the reality of it hits me.

I fucking locked myself out.

What are the chances?

See what I’m getting for being a liar. And my phone is inside.

“Oh, fuck you, Karma,” I mumble, spinning around and heading to the superintendent’s apartment. “Now watch him not being home.”

Sighing, I trail to the stairs before taking them down.

Moments later, I knock on his door.

11

CALLAN

Men have power.

And women have power.

When we all use it, it’s a magnificent thing to watch.

She might not be conscious of it, but it’s in her.

In her eyes and hair and skin.

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