The Stranger in the Corridor
The Stranger in the Corridor
California winters were cold.
Not freezing, obviously. Just cold enough to make you question every decision that had led you outside without a proper jacket.
When it’s winter, people want summer. When it’s summer, people want winter.
Pick your struggle.
I was currently standing in front of my closet, trying to decide what to wear to return a library book that was dangerously close to being overdue.
The book in question was Temptation by Stephen Grey, and I had already finished it. Returning it on time should have been simple.
Unfortunately, I was me.
I finally settled on an outfit, pulled on my boots, and reached for the door.
Before I could open it, Lynx rubbed himself against my leg.
I looked down.
My black male husky stared back at me with the expression of someone who had never done anything wrong in his entire life.
He was lying.
I reached into the cabinet and pulled out a treat.
“Manipulative little thing,” I said fondly.
His tail wagged.
“Mama’s going to return this book really quickly, okay?”
“Arf!”
“Good boy. You better behave while I’m gone.”
He stared at me.
I narrowed my eyes.
“I’m serious.”
Lynx blinked.
I sighed.
“Fine. I know you’re going to do whatever you want.”
He wagged his tail again.
“Exactly.”
I stepped outside and closed the door behind me.
Then I turned around.
And walked directly into something solid.
“Fuck-ow.”
I stumbled back, rubbing my forehead.
Then I looked up.
A man was standing in front of me.
And, unfortunately, he was handsome.
Not just normal handsome either. The kind of handsome that made your brain temporarily forget how conversations worked.
He looked like he was in his early twenties, with an annoyingly attractive face and a calm expression that made me immediately aware of the fact that I had just walked into him.
I blushed.
“Hi. I’m really sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going and then you just showed up and I bumped into you and I’m Cordelia, but—”
He chuckled quietly.
I stopped talking.
His teeth were bright in the sunlight coming through the corridor window.
“It’s alright, buttercup,” he said. “No worries. Pleasure meeting you, Cordelia. I’m Anthony.”
He paused.
“Anthony Grey.”
His voice was deep.
And he was British.
I had a preference for men with deep voices.
This was already becoming a problem.
Anthony bent down and picked up the book I had dropped.
He turned it over in his hands.
“Temptation by Stephen Grey,” he said. “It’s a nice book. Not going to lie.”
I blinked.
“You know him?”
“Yeah, actually. He’s my—”
My phone started ringing.
I winced.
“Sorry.”
I reached into my pocket and glanced at the screen.
Mom.
I stared at the name.
“What does she want?” I muttered.
Anthony raised an eyebrow.
I ignored him and answered.
“Hello?”
“Cordie, how many times do I have to call you before you answer?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Hello to you too, Mama.”
“Fix your tone, young lady!”
I silently groaned.
“Hello, Mama,” I repeated, this time with significantly more enthusiasm than I felt.
There was a pause.
“Good. Anyways, can you come over this weekend for family supper? I’ll be making lasagne and fudge cake.”
I froze.
Fudge cake.
Suddenly, the woman on the phone had my complete attention.
The handsome British man standing in front of me was temporarily forgotten.
The fudge cake, however, was not.
“Yeah, I’ll come over. No worries. Bye.”
I hung up before she could say anything else.
Then I turned back to Anthony.
“Sorry that took so long. Where were we again?”
He shifted his weight slightly.
“No, it’s alright. I don’t mind.”
He glanced away.
“I know how family can get sometimes. It’s actually the reason I moved out early in the first place.”
His voice changed slightly when he said it.
I noticed.
Naturally, I immediately decided to ask about it.
“Wanna talk about it?”
Anthony looked at me.
I mentally regretted asking.
“Not in the corridor,” he said. “Over coffee, maybe?”
He quickly added, “No pressure, though.”
I considered it.
Firstly, his cheeks were rosy from the cold, which made him look unfairly cute.
Secondly, who was going to decline free coffee in this weather?
“Sure.”
We ended up at Coffae’ Delight.
Anthony ordered first.
He spoke politely to the waitress, and for some reason, I found that attractive.
Apparently, manners were enough to impress me now.
He ordered a low-cream latte because he was lactose-intolerant.
I ordered matcha.
Even though I knew it tasted like photosynthesis.
We sat down, and Anthony pulled out a chair for me.
I looked at him.
“Are you always like this?”
“Like what?”
“Polite.”
He looked confused.
“I hope so.”
“Suspicious.”
He laughed.
Then he asked me what I liked doing in my free time.
That was a dangerous question.
I liked a lot of things.
I just rarely finished any of them.
“I like listening to music while reading,” I said. “Or drawing. Or sketching.”
I paused.
“I’m pretty sure those are two different things, right?”
Anthony nodded slowly.
“I think so.”
“Good.”
“I also like music. I play acoustic guitar and drums.”
He said it with a little too much pride.
I narrowed my eyes.
“Are you bragging?”
He tried not to laugh.
“I’m not bragging, Cordie. I’m simply stating a fact.”
“That’s exactly what someone bragging would say.”
He shook his head.
“You’re strange.”
“So you’ve already noticed?”
“It’s been about twenty minutes.”
“That’s fast.”
“I’m observant.”
I smiled.
“Sure you are.”
We talked until our drinks were finished.
Then, somehow, we exchanged numbers.
And somehow, that became the beginning of something.
Weeks passed.
We went out for lunch.
Then dinner.
Then amusement parks.
Sometimes we talked for hours.
Sometimes we sat in silence.
Anthony told me things about himself.
I told him things about me too.
Just not everything.
Not yet.
And maybe, at the time, I thought that was okay.
Maybe I thought I had all the time in the world to tell him the things I kept hidden.
Maybe I thought some things were better left unsaid.
I was wrong.
