Page 7

The hallway. The gym. Once in the elevator, where he held the door and winked like he knew exactly what it did to my insides.

Each time, it’s casual. Harmless.

But his voice slides under my skin like velvet and hockey tape. Today, I see him in the mailroom.

“I should’ve guessed you’d be the kind to color-code your mailbox,” he says, leaning one shoulder against the mailroom wall, his arms crossed like he had all the time in the world.

I freeze mid-sort, one hand holding a bright pink envelope labeled "Study Materials" and the other clutching my tabbed legal pad like it was a shield.

“Organization is sexy,” I reply, trying not to fumble the envelope or the sudden uptick in my heart rate.

He grins, all slow confidence and cocky charm. “So is chaos. Wanna compare methods sometime?”

I roll my eyes, but it isn't real. Not when my face is already warming. “Let me guess. Your system involves losing everything and blaming the universe?”

He steps closer. “Only the unimportant stuff. I never lose track of the things that matter.”

My stomach flips.

“You always flirt in front of utility bills?” I ask, managing to drop a flyer for mattress cleaning and then immediately curse under my breath.

He crouches to pick it up and hands it back with a crooked smile. “Only when the company is this good.”

I try to laugh. I really do. But the way he looks at me? Like I am more than just Allison’s little sister? This is new and it’s dangerous.

I tuck the envelope under my arm and turn to leave, but not before glancing back. “Your mail’s hanging out of Box 204. That chaos you’re so proud of is showing.”

He winks. “Good thing I live next door to someone who thrives on order.”

I hit the elevator button and step inside, fully aware he follows a second later. The doors close with a soft ding, sealing us into a space that suddenly feels ten degrees warmer.

“You always this smooth in confined spaces?” I ask, arms crossed, trying to focus on the floor numbers lighting up.

“I save my best material for elevators,” he says, with a huge shit-eating grin on his face.

“I’m honored. Truly.”

He grins. “I mean, think about it. Limited escape routes, the perfect acoustics for witty banter, and zero distractions unless someone hits the emergency stop.”

“Do you flirt with all your neighbors like this or am I just lucky?”

“Only the ones who carry color-coded tabs and walk like they’ve already drafted closing arguments in their heads.”

“Guilty,” I say, refusing to smile. I’m already losing that battle.

We ride in silence for a moment, the next ten floors creeping slowly upward. He glances over at me.

“So… you and your roommate settled in yet?”

“Mostly. I hear that she's already invited you and your friends to our housewarming party. No game on Friday?"

“No game,” he says, smirking. “I’ll be there with two friends. Looking forward to it.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Just know we’re classing it up with solo cups and suspiciously enthusiastic playlists. You’ve been warned.”

He chuckles. “Sounds like a good time.”

The elevator dings for our floor. He waits for me to exit first. As we walk side by side toward our doors, he tilts his head.