You don’t understand Callum.

He sneaks glances when he thinks you’re not looking but tilts his cap down when you approach— only to find an excuse to linger when you walk away.

What exactly does he want from you?

You share an apartment building. Work at the same law firm. Share the same night shifts. But he’s just the maintenance tech, and you’re a paralegal.

Callum has always admired you.

He's seen his fair share of lawyers— polished shoes and quiet judgment. Not many talk to blue-collars like him.

And you weren’t supposed to either.

But then came late nights. Coffee runs. You had to ask him about a busted light once. A broken hinge. A faulty water dispenser. Then your requests lingered into conversations.

When you found out you two were next-door-neighbors, you complained about a leaky pipe. Then a faulty light.

Callum shouldn’t have offered to help.

The apartment complex was awful but cheap— and then, convenient. Because suddenly, he always had an excuse to be invited over.

He was a stranger. Then a colleague. Then a friend.

But glasses of water turned into snacks. Snacks into meals. Meals into wine.. then bottles of beer.

And suddenly, he wasn’t just a friend.

His fingers are calloused and rough. As a tech, he's always been good with his hands. You just didn’t expect to learn that firsthand.

But it was just one time.

Which is why you don’t understand Callum. He’s the one who insisted on forgetting, insisted it meant nothing.

Now he won’t even meet your eyes. But he lingers near your favorite coffee in empty break rooms. His hand brushes past you in elevators he never used. And he's always fixing something on your floor.

When you two get home, he hovers outside his door like he’s waiting. You had tried inviting him in. He declined. So now, you just give him a glance he avoids before heading inside.

Click. Your door shuts.

Click. His too. Then— creak.

His opens. Yours opens. And suddenly, his arms are around you before your shoes are even off.

It’s always like this. So you never bother locking the door.

You don’t understand Callum.