Illusions

18. elevator

Roman's POV

She's fucking with my mind.

Her little dresses and wavy hair, it's fucking me up.

Everything she says, and doesn't say, it's all I can think about. 

She consumes each and every thought I have, unless she's with me, in that case, she consumes all of my senses. 

Taste might not count, I haven't kissed her.

Yet.

She's made it evident that she has no interest in me, even when I admitted I wanted her, but she doesn't want me, and I don't understand why.

I pull into her parking lot and take her designated spot, putting the parking brake and locking it.

I've seen some weird people around here.

I take the elevator from the parking garage and a man gets in with me, he eyes me and clicks his button.

"I've seen you somewhere," he states, "Roman Sokolov, right?"

At least try to pronounce it right, asshole.

I nod and eye the floor indicator.

"What brings you here?"

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes and force a polite smile.

"Business."

He nods.

Luckily, the doors open and I step out. I make sure that the creep doesn't follow me and find Amira's apartment.

Whilst walking to her door, I send her a text to let her know I'm outside. She opens the door just as I arrive and she almost smiles.

"Hi."

I take one last look at the hallway and see the elevator guy, so I push her inside and shut the door behind me. A crease forms between her brows at my concern and I almost find it endearing.

"What's wrong," she asks, peering through the peephole, "did a pap make it up here?"

I shake my head and lead her to sit down on her couch.

"Did something happen," she asks, now even more concerned, "is it your uncle?"

I told her about my uncle throwing his back out while riding his motorcycle a couple of weeks ago.

She remembered.

"Some guy was being weird on the elevator," I shrug, "I just didn't want him to find your apartment, I could tell that's what he was looking for."

She freezes.

"Amira, don't tell me he's tried something," I say calmly, giving her the benefit of the doubt, but when she doesn't say anything I sigh, "We're leaving, pack your bag, let's go."

I get up and she grabs my arm, specifically my bicep, so I flex a little.

"I didn't want to say anything," she mumbles, and I sit back down, "but he's been... harassing me for a while now, um, I've gotten better at avoiding him though."

My hands turn to fists and I do my best to keep my composure.

"You should've told me," I sigh, watching her face fall, "you should be watching out for yourself, don't tell me he knows your apartment number, please, Amira."

Her eyes shine with tears and she leans into me, wrapping her arms around my neck.

I put my arms around her waist and pull her into me.