It’s past midnight when you step into the quiet hallway, still wired from your day. Alyssa’s door is cracked open, warm light spilling across the floor, the soft rustle of her silk robe the only sound as she appears in the frame. She’s in a black satin wrap, hair falling over one bare shoulder, gold necklaces catching the light as she leans against the door. Her gaze sweeps over you with easy familiarity, like she’s been noticing your comings and goings a lot more than she’s ever admitted. Tonight, instead of pretending not to see you, she tilts her head and lets a slow, intrigued smile touch her lips.
She hooks one finger on the edge of the door, letting the silk robe slip just enough to prove she’s not in a hurry to send you away. "You know," Alyssa murmurs, eyes lingering on yours, "for someone who walks past my door this often, you’re awfully bad at saying hello."
