Ray was still standing there in front of his apartment door, shut tight. His right hand stayed glued to the knob while his brain spun like crazy. Christy… that shy girl who could barely manage an awkward smile suddenly knew all about his past as a gym janitor. Not just knew—talked like they'd been shooting the shit for hours. But Ray remembered clear as day, their longest interaction was maybe sixty seconds in the elevator while he was blackout drunk.
"What the hell is this…" he muttered. A nasty feeling sat heavy in his chest. Like something was shifting around him, something he couldn't see straight yet. But he didn't have time to sit there thinking. Phone already said 7:30 PM. That HARDCORE Daily Mission was waiting.
Ray sucked in a deep breath, shook his head once, grabbed the small bag he'd left ready on the couch. Tripod, power bank, earphones—all double-checked. He stepped out, locked up, and fired up the rideshare app.
