7
Maya.
I don’t know if I did it for the thrill or just because I could. Maybe both. Caleb had become my addiction, my midnight craving, the only thing that mattered. I thought about him constantly, every hour of the day. Even when I tried to focus on work, his name lingered in my head like a broken record, every nerve in my body tuned to the possibility of seeing him, hearing him, touching him again.
His door was always locked, except tonight. I told myself he left it open by accident, but some part of me knew better. Some part of me wondered if he was waiting, hoping, daring me to cross a line I hadn’t crossed before. And I was ready to leap. It was late, the hallway humming with the quiet of sleeping neighbors, and when I turned the handle, my pulse spiked at the satisfying click of
