Capture

Locked Out, Let In

My brain was still humming from last night—fuzzy, restless, wired. I hadn't slept much, and the hangover wasn't alcohol—it was emotional.

The coffee machine sputtered to life, filling the air with the rich scent of something warm and dependable. I wrapped my hands around the mug as it finished dripping into my favorite chipped cup. A yawn escaped as I glanced at the clock.

God. It's only Tuesday.

I stepped into the hallway, the early morning chill brushing against my skin as I retrieved the paper from my stoop. The headlines screamed bleak truths:

"Gang Violence Claims Another Victim"
"London's Witness Protection Overwhelmed – Victims Turned Away"

I paused, frowning at the page. It made my chest feel heavy. How do people start over with nothing? Fleeing their lives, abandoning everything they know? Liam's name slipped through my thoughts uninvited, like it had all week. What Perrie had said about him being a runaway—it tugged at something familiar.

The difference was... I chose to run. I packed my bags and left behind the chaos on my own terms. The people in these stories didn't get to choose. They were pushed. Forced. Hunted. I wondered, just for a moment, which category Liam fell into.

Then a knock at my door startled me, hot coffee sloshing onto my hand. "Shit," I hissed, setting the mug down and padding barefoot to the door.

I twisted the lock and yanked it open, expecting maybe a neighbor or a package.

Instead, there he was—Liam Payne, in all his infuriating glory, as if my subconscious summoned him to my door. Tank top, low-slung jeans, barefoot, smug. Somehow he made "inconvenienced" look sexy.

"Feeling neighborly this morning?" he grinned.

I stared at him. "What the hell do you want?"

"Locked out," he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder toward his red door. "Mind if I wait for the locksmith in here? It's freezing out there."

"You're serious?" I deadpanned.

"Deadly. Be a doll, yeah?" 

Before I could protest, he breezed right past me, waltzing into my apartment like it belonged to him. "Payne, I'm not in the mood. I'm already late for work," I lied, closing the door but leaving it cracked out of sheer pettiness. Let the locksmith find him fast and take him far away from me.

"You won't even notice I'm here," he said, taking a curious look around. His eyes landed on the pile of still-sealed boxes shoved against the far wall. "Committed to the move, huh?" he asked, tapping one with his knuckles.

"I've been busy."

He gestured toward the kitchen. "Is that a pantry room?" I nodded, arms folded. "I thought these flats were standard layout." He said it offhand, like he wasn't inspecting my life from the inside out.

Then something outside caught my eye. The door across the hall creaked open, and she stepped out—the girl from last night. Her hair was a mess, her dress twisted from sleep. She clutched her heels in one hand and scurried down the hall barefoot, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.

I turned slowly back to Liam. He was ducked behind the couch like a goddamn cartoon character. Grinning. "Unbelievable," I muttered, fire rising in my chest. "You're hiding from your one-night stand? Really?"

He shrugged. "I don't do morning-after small talk." He stood making sure that she was actually gone before flopping down on my couch and kicking his feet up on my coffee table like he lived here. 

"So kick her out." I said knocking his feet down from my table. 

"That's rude," he said, lounging now like the human embodiment of arrogance. "The decent thing is if she sneaks out while I'm 'asleep.' That way, nobody's feelings get hurt."

"You are a real piece of work."

"This way," he added with a grin, "I don't have to be the bad guy. And hey—if I want, I can still call."

"Get out of my apartment." I marched over and yanked him off the couch, shoving him toward the door. "Next time you want to ghost someone, don't drag me into it." He turned, mouth still curled up like he found me amusing.

Then he kissed me.

I gasped as he pushed me gently but firmly against the wall, his lips crashing into mine without warning. He kissed like he argued—fierce, reckless, with zero hesitation. My body betrayed me instantly—knees weak, heart racing, fingers curling into the hem of his shirt. He tasted like mint and chaos. His grip tightened at my waist like he already knew I'd give in.

And then—just as quickly—he pulled away. I opened my eyes in a daze. He was still close. Smirking. "Where's the fun in leaving you out of it, doll face?" he murmured.

Then he turned, walked across the hall, and shut his door behind him—just like that.

Leaving me stunned, breathless, and furious.