doitstory Chapter 230: Apartment Mate
Chapter 230: Apartment Mate
Liam’s alarm went off at the wrong time, which was the same time it always went off, which meant Liam had simply stayed up too late again and was now dealing with the consequences of that decision in real time.
He lay there for exactly three seconds looking at the ceiling.
Then he was up.
He moved through the apartment with the specific energy of someone who had done the mental calculation and didn’t like the result.
His phone said what it said and what it said meant he had less time than he needed and more distance to cover than was comfortable.
He grabbed his toothbrush and had it in his mouth before he reached the bathroom mirror, brushing with the focused efficiency of a man who had reduced the morning routine to its absolute minimum and was now executing it at speed.
He rinsed.
Grabbed a shirt from the back of the chair, the one he had put there last night with the specific intention of wearing it this morning.
Pulled it over his head.
Trousers next, already mostly sorted, one leg in and then the other and the zip done before he had fully straightened up.
Shoes by the door, already laced from yesterday because past Liam had done present Liam exactly one favor.
He checked the mirror once. Acceptable.
He grabbed his bag from the floor beside the couch, checked his phone again, and moved to the door.
Seven minutes from alarm to leaving.
He pulled the door open and went into the corridor and headed for the stairs because the elevator in this building had a relationship with time that he didn’t have the patience for this morning.
He came around the corner at pace, his bag on one shoulder, his mind already calculating the route, the shortcut through the east side of campus, whether the side entrance would be open at this hour.
Someone came around it from the other direction at the same moment.
His body reacted without asking his mind about it first, the instinct pulling him sideways and back, creating the gap between them before the collision could complete itself.
She didn’t have the same instinct or didn’t have it fast enough.
The shock hit her before her balance could do anything about it and she went down, her arms finding nothing on the way.
She sat down hard on the floor.
Ass first.
The specific graceless landing of someone who hadn’t chosen to sit down.
Liam stopped completely. "Holy—" He looked at her on the floor and felt the particular quality of guilt that came from causing something by accident. "Are you okay?"
Her legs had parted when she fell and through the leggings he could see her pussy clearly from where he was standing like she wasn’t even wearing anything, the size of it catching his attention before anything else did.
’That’s a big pussy,’ he thought.
Not with judgment. Just genuine surprise and genuine interest happening at the same time.
He kept his face exactly where it was.
He reached his hand down toward her.
She looked up at him and took it and he pulled her back up to her feet.
"I’m so sorry," Liam said, keeping his hand available in case she needed it again. "Are you alright?"
She brushed her jacket down with one hand and exhaled. "Yeah." She shifted her weight and made a small face that the word yeah was not entirely consistent with. "I’m okay. I just."
Liam looked at her properly now that she was upright and not on the floor.
She was tall, taller than he had registered when she was sitting down, her face at a level closer to his than he expected.
And the face was.
He took it in without making a production of taking it in.
Sharp features, clear skin, the red hair framing all of it, a few strands still across her face from the fall.
Small across the chest, the running jacket sitting loose there.
But from the waist down the leggings picked up the narrative again and the narrative was very clear about the ratio of waist to hip to the rest of it and the narrative was compelling.
He looked up.
Above her head.
[75/100]
She tried to move and couldn’t, her face squeezing tight with the pain. Liam noticed.
Then time stopped.
[Option 1: I can carry you up to your place if you’re not feeling up to walking. +15 Lust Points]
[Option 2: I’m so sorry. (Run away) +0 Lust Points]
He knew he was late.
But what he had just seen wasn’t something he could just walk away from without at least making sure she didn’t think he was an asshole.
"I can carry you up to your place," he said, "if walking isn’t feeling great right now."
She looked at him.
She blushed. "No, I’m good," she said, turning toward the stairs.
She made it four steps.
On the fourth one her hip communicated its position clearly and her stride broke, a small wobble, not dramatic, just honest, the body saying one thing while the mouth had said another.
Liam didn’t ask again.
He covered the distance between them and got his arms under her in one motion, one under her knees and one across her back, and lifted her up.
She made a sharp sound of surprise, her hands grabbing his shoulders, and looked at his face.
He looked back at her and smiled, wide and unbothered.
"I can walk," she said. Her voice was somewhere between annoyed and something else she wasn’t naming.
"I know," he said pleasantly, already moving toward the stairs.
She looked at him for another second then gave up and looked at the ceiling, her hands still on his shoulders.
He carried her up the stairs to the floor above his.
He came out into that corridor and looked at her. "Which door."
She pointed. Third on the left. He walked to it and stood in front of it and looked at her face.
"You can put me down," she said. "I’ve got it from here."
"I’m not done yet," he said.
She blushed again, deeper this time.
She held his gaze for a moment then looked away and reached into her jacket pocket for her keys, found the right one without looking and reached past him to the lock.
The door opened.
Liam walked in.
He stepped into the apartment and looked around. Same size as his, same layout, but it felt nothing like his.
The bed was made properly, the desk in the corner had things on it that were actually organized, plants on the windowsill that were alive and being looked after.
The whole place was neat and considered in the way that made his own apartment feel like a waiting room by comparison.
Liam walked to the bed and set her down on the edge of it carefully, making sure she was steady before he let go.
She settled back and looked up at him.
Her hair was fully down now, falling around her face and shoulders, the red of it catching the morning light from the window.
She tucked a piece of it behind her ear and looked at him with an expression he couldn’t entirely read.
Time stopped again.
[Option 1: Let me help with where it hurts. +10 Lust Points]
[Option 2: I’ll come back to check up on you. +0 Lust Points]
"I’ll come back and check on you later," he said.
She shook her head. "You really don’t need to do that."
"I insist," he said. He picked his bag up from where he had set it by the door and looked back at her sitting on the edge of the bed with her legs together and her hair down and her face doing the thing it had been doing since the corridor. "Rest."
He walked out and pulled the door behind him until it clicked.
In the corridor he stood still for exactly two seconds.
Then he went down the stairs taking them two at a time, his bag bouncing at his shoulder, moving through the building and out the front door and into the morning air.
He walked fast in the direction of campus and thought about the class and then thought about the door he had just closed and the face on the other side of it and the number above her head.
’I could have stayed,’ he thought, his feet finding the rhythm of someone moving with a purpose. ’But I am already late and if I walk in any later than I should I don’t want to force my baby to punish me.’
He walked faster.
’Although,’ he thought.
He smiled at the pavement.
’A punishment from her doesn’t really sound bad.’
He laughed to himself and kept moving.
---
She sat on the edge of the bed after the door closed and listened to his footsteps going down the stairs until they disappeared and the floor above his was quiet again.
Then she lay back.
She lay back and started staring at every part of her room from the ceiling to corridor, corner and the floor.
His hands lifting her like it was nothing.
She shifted on the bed.
She pressed her thighs together and stared at the ceiling.
’Did he notice,’ she thought. She looked down at the leggings. ’He noticed.’ She had seen his eyes go there and come back up and somehow that was worse than if he had just kept looking.
She thought about his hands. The way they had held her, firm and certain, no hesitation in them. And that smile.
Her hand moved toward the waistband before she had fully decided to let it and she stopped having the conversation about it and just let it happen.
Her hand slid inside.
She closed her eyes and kept the image where it was. His hands. The way he had looked at her. The I’m not done yet said at her own front door like he owned the hallway.
It didn’t take long.
Her back came off the bed and she made a sound and then she was still.
She opened her eyes and looked at her hand.
"What is wrong with me," she said out loud. "I don’t even know his name."
She looked at the ceiling.
"What is wrong with me," she said again.