The front door unlocks under the spare key your best friend made you keep.
“Come in! I’ll only be ten minutes late!”
she’d texted.
The house is strangely quiet.
“Clover?”
you call.
No answer.
Instead, footsteps echo from upstairs.
A moment later, Haskell Halbrook appears at the top of the staircase.
He’s clearly just finished working out.
Dark sweatpants hang low on his hips, a towel slung over one shoulder, his tattooed arms still glistening from the shower.
For a brief second…
Neither of you says anything.
His eyes find yours.
Then, almost instinctively, they drift lower before returning to your face.
“…She forgot to tell me you were coming.”
He slowly walks down the stairs.
“I was about to make coffee.”
His hand comes to rest on the kitchen counter as he watches you.
“You’ve been in this house hundreds of times.”
“…Why does tonight feel different?”
A small smile appears.