Page 93 of Fundamentals of Chemistry

I knocked again. And waited.

Still nothing.

After a full minute, I gave up and went back across to my apartment. Which was now locked.

Fucking fantastic.

I grabbed the handle with both hands and shook. The one-hundred-year-old solid hardwood door did not so much as budge. After months of obsessively carrying my key everywhere I went, I had finally managed to lock myself out of my apartment. Part of me was surprised that it had taken me so long. But that part was microscopic next to the part of me that was furious.

I scream-growled and banged my fist on my door in frustration. Not only did I not feel any better, but now my hand hurt.

Taking a deep breath, I paced down the hall while I considered my options. Jack had a key, and TJ had a key. Today was Saturday, so TJ wouldn’t be here. I could walk over to the admin building and check for the key in her desk, but between the holiday and the fact that it was a weekend, the admin building would likely be locked up too.

That just left Jack. Who (maybe) wasn’t home.

I could go down to Alan’s place on the second floor and wait there for Jack to get back. But Alan had mentioned he had some errands to run when he dropped me off, and he wouldn’t be back for a couple of hours.

That just left Jack. Jack, who was absolutely avoiding me.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

I sat down and leaned back against the door to wait. I ached for the release of a good cry, but no tears were forthcoming. Nothing was going to go my way today.

After thirty seconds, I stood up, too restless. I paced up and down the hallway. That got old after two passes. How the hell did people in old movies pace for hours at a time? I couldn’t imagine.

But I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t risk missing Jack if he came back. I never expected hell to be a hallway, but here we were—me and my rage, trapped indefinitely.

I was in downward-facing dog position with my hands down and ass in the air when the door to number thirty-three opened and Jack stepped into the hall. He was dressed for a cold-weather run with tights under his shorts and a puffy vest over his long-sleeved tech shirt.

And he was just as surprised to see me as I was to see him.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

I jumped my feet up to my hands and spun around so I could look at Jack straight on. My face was on fire, and I hoped he would assume it was because of yoga and not embarrassment.

It took every bit of effort to stand still. I wanted to go to him, to throw my arms around his neck and hold him close, but the stoney expression on his face had me frozen where I stood.

“Being a nuisance in the hall,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Figures.”

He brushed past me on his way to the stairs.

“Wait,” I called.

Jack hung his head in a long-suffering sort of way, but he did turn to look at me. My breath caught in my chest as his stormy eyes locked onto mine.

“What is it, Mel?”

He sounded tired. And exasperated. Like I had just told him that my dog ate my homework even though both of us know perfectly well that I don’t have a dog.

But this was it. He was right here. This was my chance to talk to him—to ask him what was wrong. I held his dark gaze as I opened my mouth to speak.

“I… uh… I locked myself out of my apartment.” I chickened out. “Do you still have a spare key?”

“You locked yourself out.” His voice was flat. Lifeless.

“Yes.” I tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace.