I remain alone on the elevator as it stops on every single floor until it reaches the eighteenth. I step off, pull my phone out of my pocket, and open up my messages to jeongyeon. I can’t remember which apartment number he said was his. It’s either 1816 or 1814.
Maybe it’s 1826?
I come to a stop at 1814, because there’s a guy passed out on the floor of the hallway, leaning against the door to 1816.
Please don’t let it be 1816.
I find the message on my phone and cringe. It’s 1816.
Of course it is.
I walk slowly to the door, hoping I don’t wake up the guy. His legs are sprawled out in front of him, and he’s leaning with his back propped up against Jeongyeon’s door. His chin is tucked to his chest, and he’s snoring.
“Excuse me,” I say, my voice just above a whisper.
He doesn’t move.
I lift my leg and poke his shoulder with my foot. “I need to get into this apartment.”
He rustles and then slowly opens his eyes and stares straight ahead at my legs.
His eyes meet my knees, and his eyebrows furrow as he slowly leans forward with a deep scowl on his face. He lifts a hand and pokes my knee with his finger, almost as if he’s never seen a knee before. He drops his hand, closes his eyes, and falls back asleep against the door.
Great.
Jeongyeon won’t be back until tomorrow, so I dial his number to see if this guy is someone I should be concerned about.
“Mina?” he asks, answering his phone without a hello. “Yep,” I reply. “Made it safe, but I can’t get in because there’s a drunk guy passed out at your front door. Suggestions?”
“Eighteen sixteen?” he asks. “You sure you’re at the right apartment?”
“Positive.”
“Are you sure he’s drunk?”
“Positive.”
“Weird,” he says. “What’s he wearing?”
“Why do you want to know what he’s wearing?”
“If he’s wearing a pilot’s uniform, he probably lives in the building. The complex contracts with our airline.”
This guy isn’t wearing any type of uniform, but I can’t help but notice that his jeans and black T-shirt do fit him very nicely.
“No uniform,” I say.
“Can you get past him without waking him up?”
“I’d have to move him. He’ll fall inside if I open the door.”
He’s quiet for a few seconds. I broke the silence
“Just stay on the phone with me until I’m inside your apartment.”
I like my plan a lot better. I balance my phone against my ear with my shoulder and dig inside my purse for the key Jeongyeon sent me. I insert it into the lock and begin to open the door, but the drunk guy begins to fall backward with every inch the door opens. He groans, but his eyes don’t open again.
“It’s too bad he’s wasted,” I tell jeongyeon. “He’s not bad-looking.”
“ Mina, just get your ass inside and lock the door so I can hang up.”
I roll my eyes. He’s still the same bossy
Brother he always was. I knew that moving in with him would not be good for our relationship, considering how fatherly he acted toward me when we were younger.
I’m hoping things will be different between us now, though. Corbin is twenty-five, and I’m twenty-three, so i hope we can get along better than we did as kids and I guess that mostly depends on jeongyeon and whether he’s changed since we last lived together.
I keep my left hand wrapped tightly around the doorknob and hold the door shut so the guy won’t fall completely into the apartment. I take my foot and press it against his shoulder, pushing him from the center of the doorway.
He doesn’t budge.
“ Jeongyeon, he’s too heavy. I’m gonna have to hang up so I can use both hands.”
“No, don’t hang up. Just put the phone in your pocket, but don’t hang up.”
I look down at the oversized shirt and leggings I have on. “No pockets. You’re going in the bra.”
Jeongyeon makes a gagging sound as I pull the phone from my ear and shove it inside my bra. I remove the key from the lock and drop it toward my purse, but it misses and falls to the floor. I reach down to grab the drunk guy so I can move him out of the way.
“All right, buddy,” I say, struggling to pull him away from the center of the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt your nap, but I need to get inside this apartment.”
I somehow manage to prop him up against the doorframe to prevent him from falling into the apartment, and then I push the door open farther and turn to get my things.
Something warm wraps around my ankle.
I freeze.
I look down.
“Let go of me!” I yell, kicking at the hand that’s gripping my ankle so tightly I’m pretty sure it might bruise. The drunk guy is looking up at me now, and his grip sends me falling backward into the apartment when I try to pull away from him.
“I need to get in there,” he mutters, just as my butt meets the floor. He makes an attempt to push the apartment door open with his other hand, and this immediately sends me into panic mode. I pull my legs the rest of the way inside, and his hand comes with me. I use my free leg to kick the door shut, slamming it directly onto his
wrist.
