5
Sienna.
His apartment was nothing like I expected.
I’d imagined dark wood, old books stacked to the ceiling, the scent of coffee and leather. But it was soft and quiet, a little messy. Sunlight spilled through gauzy curtains, painting stripes across the faded rug and the stacks of papers on his table. There was a mug with a lipstick stain by the sink, probably left behind by someone before me, or maybe it was my own from the last time I’d dared to imagine being here.
He closed the door behind us, and the city’s noise faded. It was just the two of us, the hush broken only by the faint hum of his fridge and the echo of my own heartbeat. I stood in the middle of the living room, feeling out of place, arms wrapped around myself.
Adrian watched me from the doorway, jacket still on, keys
