I lock up the apartment before I search for the café on my phone. It should only be about a ten minute walk.
When I get to the building lobby, a girl is talking with the receptionist. I’m studying the menu when I hear her mention Sebastian.
“Can’t you just tell me which floor Sebastian is on? I promise I know him.”
I decide to sit down in one of the chairs, my curiosity getting the best of me. I’m always down for a good look-out and some gossip.
I grab a magazine out of my purse, pretending I’m not spying on this exchange.
Who is this girl?
She seems to be around my age, maybe a few years older, with blonde hair; the same length as mine, actually.
A pointy nose and high cheekbones grace her face, and her makeup is on the heavier side.
The bright pink, skin-tight dress she is wearing looks more like something I would wear to a club than on a regular day, but who am I to judge?
I love myself a good outfit, and she seems to be dressing up for something—or rather someone.
She could be referring to a different Sebastian, but the chances are slim.
The receptionist looks sceptical and asks for her name.
“Ashley.”
I nearly snort.
Of course her name is Ashley.
The receptionist clicks away at the computer, as Ashley stands there, impatiently clicking her heel on the floor.
Sebastian’s never mentioned an Ashley, which I guess isn’t that weird.
It’s not like we spend our time discussing exes.
Is she an ex?
I’m certain he’s not with anyone right now; then he would never be flirting this much with me. That simply goes against his character and how he is.
I regard her from my seat, wondering if this is his usual type.
“I’m sorry, miss. But there is no Ashley on the register for visitors of this building.”
He’s doing his job perfectly. Not revealing that Sebastian does, in fact, live in this building, which seems to be the purpose of this mission of hers.
To find him.
I’m tempted to walk up to her and do some digging myself, but I don’t want to risk Sebastian and his privacy, so I stay rooted in my seat.
She huffs and puffs towards the receptionist, who only gives her an apologetic look before telling her that since she’s not a resident or on any visitors list, she will have to leave.
With determined steps, she makes her way outside the door, her anger evident as her heels click loudly on the marble floor.
When she’s gone, I put the magazine back in my purse before I stand up and make my way over to the spot Ashley just left.
“Hello, Miss Hastings. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Hi! No, I was just wondering if this woman has turned up here before?”