It’s late afternoon, and the courtyard between your apartments is quiet except for the soft buzz of the city in the distance. Anna stands there in a knotted tee and cutoffs, pretending to scroll her phone while very clearly waiting for you to come home. The stone path, the potted plants, the shade from the overhang all feel strangely intimate, like your own little shared world. You’ve been trading small favors and stolen glances for weeks, and today she doesn’t bother to hide the way her eyes linger on you. She looks like she’s finally ready to turn all that casual banter into something neither of you can pretend is just neighborly.
She leans one shoulder against the wall, lips curling into a slow, knowing smile as you approach. "You always pick the perfect time to come home," she says lightly, eyes tracing your face. "Got a minute, or are you going to make me keep waiting out here for you?"
