Emma stepped off the bus, walking towards her building. She realized quickly she was nervous. She didn't know why, it was her building. It's not likely she would see the guy she just looked up for the past hour. Okay, two hours, but she really had bad wifi so it wasn't completely her fault. Besides, she lived here first. That's the way to think about it.
She lived here first.
But what if she bumped into him?
Oh like that would happen, snap out of it Emma.
Walking past Marco, the doorman, she nodded her hello and continued towards the elevator. Normally she would take the stairs, she called it her workout routine but really it was just an excuse to not get a gym membership. Plus the building had a gym, technically. She just never used it. Why when they have perfectly good stairs right here attached to the building.
She pressed the button for the elevator, reminding herself of this morning's rush on how many times she alerted the lift that she really had to be at work. She glanced at her watch, five twenty-three, but that couldn't be right. She grabbed her phone in her back pocket to double check and saw the time was actually eight fifteen. Undoing the clasp, she took her watch off and went to wind the side to get to the right time. The doors opened as she slowly walked in, continuing to wind to the correct time.
"What floor, love?" a smooth voice said.
Emma's head shot up quickly, her cheeks suddenly becoming flush. He's here.
In front of me.
In the same elevator.
And he's holding… a wicker hand basket?
"Uh, eleven… p- please," Emma stuttered. I never stutter!
He leaned forward, pressing the button without looking away. His eyes clashing violently with hers. Clashing violently? How is it possible my brain is turning this into a lovesick novel.
"Do you need the time," he asked, a smile curving his lips.
Emma looked back down to the watch in her hands, somehow she had changed the time to three eleven. Damnit.
"Yes, that would be helpful, I think I need a new battery," she got out effortlessly. Her voice wasn't sounding as jumpy as she was feeling.
He lifted his wrist to check his time, "eight seventeen."
Turning back to her watch and set it again. She wrapped it around her wrist, pressing it to her middle in order to latch. She brought her hand up to her part and ran her fingers through it, a nervous tick she had occasionally.
"I'm Killian, by the way, new here," he said between floors three and four.
"Yeah, I know," she said. Her eyes widening slightly when she noticed what she just admitting.
His eyebrow raised but instead of shock he seemed amused.
"I saw your moving truck earlier today I think, plus I've been here for five years and know everyone," she hoped that didn't sound rushed.
"Five years, quite the commitment," he responded.
"Yeah, they have a great staff here… and a great… gym," she said searching for words.
He shifted an inch closer, "They have a gym here? Do you use it?"
Her palms were sweaty. Her breath caught in her throat. And her heart was racing; she was most definitely having a heart attack.
"…no."
He smiled wide and let out a small chuckle. The elevator slowed at the tenth floor, doors opening.
"I'll be sure to check out the gym for you then let you know," he said as he walked out the door. He turned around before turning down the hall.
"It's a pleasure meeting such entertaining company, I hope we meet again miss..?" he said.
"Swan," she finished his sentence at the same time as the door started closing between them.
"Have a goodnight, Swan," he smiled as he turned and walked.
As soon as the doors closed, she slid down the wall and sat. Taking in everything that just transpired.
"Holy crap," she whispered.
Quickly realizing that her floor was next, she got up, wiping her hands on the back of her jeans to wipe any residual carpet dust from her and walked out once the doors opened. She walked in a daze to her apartment, dropping her keys on the counter after locking the door.
Man, he was cute. And that accent. But what was with the basket? It would be one thing if he was carrying a laundry basket, but a wicker basket? Emma's sleuthing was starting to itch so she walked to the kitchen and grabbed a glass and bottle of bourbon to wash it away. She wasn't going to over analyze the guy. Maybe he liked baskets? He was a collector. No, he liked picnics and was preparing for tomorrow. Or he was preparing a basket for a sick grandmother and going to visit her in the hospital tomorrow while serving her soup. Good lord, Emma!
Sipping on her drink she walked into the living room, turning on the tv, searching for something to get her mind off the dreamy man. Leaving it onto Chopped, she glanced outside, noticing she left her coffee mug out there from the other morning. She slid the door open and grabbed the cup seeing the lights of all the apartments around her. The apartment building was C shaped in that in the middle was the pool, to the left were apartments that led to the, now infamous elevator, and directly across from her were more apartments. She looked out towards the other apartments on her level seeing a young family sitting in a living room, watching some sort of cartoon no doubt. Looking next to that was a completely darkened apartment, obviously no one home. Looking down a floor she saw a young couple preparing a late meal talking animatedly. Next to them was a tall dark haired man opening boxes… looks like he just moved in…
"Oh my god, oh my god," she sank down quickly, coffee mug still in hand. She slowly peered up over the wall, thankful they were solid on the bottom, so as not to see through, and glanced to see him, Killian, working his way through boxes. He was dressed as he was in the elevator, a dark button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, dark blue jeans held up with a black leather belt. He was opening up what looked like picture frames. He placed a few on the coffee table in front of him and looked at them for a while. Family? Friends? Girlfriend? Ex-wife? Where are you going with this, Emma?
She stood up, confirming that he wasn't looking up at her anyway and slid the door open to walk back in. She looked around and saw him run his hands through his hair as he leaned back on the sofa. He drank from a coffee mug but she would be willing to bet it wasn't coffee. He rubbed his eyes with one hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. His chest was heaving slightly. Wait. Was he crying? Oh, please don't be crying, now I really am horrible.
Looking away quickly, she decided to leave him to whatever possible demons that were bothering him and walked back inside. She saw her drink and quickly grabbed it, taking the last of it in one gulp. It burned only slightly as she had gotten used to the sizzle down her throat. Leaving both the mug and the glass in the sink for tomorrows troubles, she walked to her room to call it a night.