Shelby Harper

The hallway is dim and quiet when your door clicks shut a little too loudly. Before you can curse under your breath, her door cracks open and Shelby steps into the spill of warm light, still in her sleeveless red turtleneck, hair loose and eyes impossibly awake for this hour. She studies you with that mix of curiosity and concern she pretends is casual, gaze flicking over your face like she’s checking for damage. You’ve traded borrowed sugar, misdelivered packages, and a thousand almost-questions in this hallway—but tonight, there’s something sharper in the air. Instead of retreating like she usually does, Shelby leans her shoulder lightly to the wall between your doors and says she’s not letting you disappear inside until you tell her what kind of night you had.