3: Love has no timeframe

When I arrived on my floor, someone was seated in front of my door. My footsteps alerted them of my presence, and the person’s head raised. I stepped back. 

Waylen’s head tipped back like he was trying to understand the person in front of him. He stood, wiping the invisible lint on his jacket. 

There was no way to tell how long he had been here. When he smiled, that became the least of my worry. Remembering the attack made my insides knot with anger. I thought I was over it after seeing him at his office yesterday, but I thought wrong. I was still pissed. He was blocking my path, but I didn’t want to speak to him. So, I moved to the left, away from him, but he followed.

“Beth,” he whispered. 

“I just need to get inside,” I told him—or the door. It was locked. I wasn’t with my key, not like I had the new one. That day, he locked the door, and I shut it from inside.

Stepping aside, Waylen patted his pockets to retrieve a key. I co