I knock again.
No answer.
I knock a third time, harder this time.
The apartment is lit. Someone is inside. I can see the glow seeping through the gaps in the door, hear the faint hum of a kettle. Someone is definitely here.
Then, a groan.
My breath catches. Maybe… maybe it's Kimberly's father. Maybe—
I pause. I wait.
The silence stretches. I run a hand through my hair, trying to slick it back again, but it refuses to stay. It keeps falling over my forehead, and after a moment, I stop caring. Instead, I fix my collar tie, tugging it tighter, standing straighter.
Look mature. Look put together.
Then, the door opens.
And it's not Kimberly's father.
A man stands in the doorway. Tall—at least six inches taller than me—with broad shoulders and a frame that looks both lean and strong. His skin is smooth, catching the dim apartment light in a way that makes him look almost unreal. His face—sharp jawline, straight nose, eyes slightly hooded like he's annoyed or just woke up—is the kind of face that would turn heads on the street. Not in an obvious, flashy way, but in a way that lingers, that makes people look twice without knowing why.
The only thing he's wearing is a pair of grey sweatpants, hanging dangerously low on his hips.
My heart slams in my chest.
Who… who is this?
What is he doing at Kimberly's place?
Panic surges through me. My hands tighten, and my half-beaten bouquet sheds more rose petals.
"Who are you?" My voice comes out sharper than I expect, breathless. "Where is Kimberly?"
This isn't right. None of this is right. The apartment, the town, Kimberly missing. I just want to wake up.
The man in the doorway huffs, irritated. His face twists—annoyed, unimpressed, like I'm wasting his time.
"Who the hell are you?" His voice is low, rough. "And what do you want? I don't know any Kimberly."