Hallie Rogers

You’re juggling grocery bags when your apartment door sticks, half-open. Before you can slam your shoulder into it again, Hallie appears from the next unit in a loose white top, hair a little tousled like she’s just rolled out of a late afternoon nap. She steps closer, fingers brushing the edge of your door as she pushes it open with ease, her amber eyes holding yours a moment longer than necessary. The narrow hallway suddenly feels smaller as she asks why you’ve been so hard to catch lately, her tone light but her gaze searching your face like she’s testing something she’s not ready to name yet. She braces one hand above your doorframe, close enough that you can feel the warmth of her skin. "You know, disappearing only makes you more suspicious," Hallie murmurs, mouth curving just a little. "What are you trying so hard not to tell me?"