March 18
Quick question: Is there a point where you’ve googled “how to move interstate without telling anyone” so many times that it shows up as a suggested search? Asking for a friend. A friend who had an actual conversation with Hot Neighbour (aka “Savage”) and may need to leave the country for her own safety. New Zealand is nice this time of year, right? They probably don’t have hot bikers there. Just sheep. Safe, non-dimpled sheep.
Me
CODE RED. NEED EVACUATION PLAN.
Megan
What did you do?
Me
Got trapped in the lift with him.
Megan
OMG
Me
FOR SEVEN MINUTES.
Megan
This is like the start of every romance novel ever.
Me
THIS ISN’T HELPING.
Megan
Did you swoon?
Me
No.
Megan
Liar.
Okay, deep breath. Let me start from the beginning.
It was this morning. 7a.m. I was in my “I actually have an important meeting” outfit ie. the one that says, “I’m a serious professional who definitely doesn’t spend her nights stalking her neighbour on social media.” I’d even put on mascara. Both eyes. I was winning at life. Mrs Primrose actually gave me an approving nod when she saw me leaving my apartment, which is basically like getting knighted by the Queen of Building Gossip.
Side note: Last week at Wine Club (yes, I eavesdrop through my air vent, no judging allowed) she was telling everyone how she’s convinced I’m either a secret government hacker or “one of those crypto people” because of all my late-night typing. If only she knew I was actually just rage-coding because Johnson keeps submitting patches that look like they were written by a caffeinated cockatoo.
Then the lift broke down. Again. With both of us in it.
Yes, you read that right. BOTH OF US. In a metal box. That wasn’t moving. While I was wearing heels that made my legs look amazing but will probably cause permanent spine damage. And while he was standing dangerously close, smelling like leather and spice and the promise of a night I wouldn’t come back from the same.
Here’s a transcript of what actually happened vs what my brain was doing:
Him: “Might be a while, sweetheart.”
My mouth: “Yeah, looks like it.”
