She wasn’t expecting anyone and was inclined to ignore it—probably the boy from several units over selling something again—but then she heard, “Libby, you in there? Open up.” Omar. He’d gone a week and a half without calling. Then Wednesday he’d left a voice mail, and again this morning, plus a handful of texts. He knocked hard this time. “Libby, if you’re in there, open the door. I’m worried about you.” She sighed, rising from the dining room table. In her duplex-style apartment, she had only two other neighbors close enough to hear, but they paid attention to everything. If she didn’t answer, they’d start calling and stopping by to make sure she was okay. She opened the door and stood aside so he could enter. Might’ve been because she hadn’t seen him, but he looked more handsome than normal in beige walking shorts and a black polo shirt. She felt the adrenaline surge she always felt around him. There was never a doubt about that—she was attracted to him.
