VICTORIA'S POV
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"It's fine, I swear." I promise Wystan as he stares down at me with worry, his eyes flicking between the shopping bag straps hanging from my arms like bracelets.
"Your twig-like arms are going to snap," Wystan grits out.
"It's four flights of stairs, not a damn marathon." I snipe back, shaking my head. I'm not a weak girl. I haul ice hockey gear around a lot.
"I'm a big girl." I tell him, and he laughs, shaking his head, his gaze dragging towards the staircase door, a frown lingering.
"Why is the elevator not working?" He asks, and I merely shrug.
"I don't know, I haven't lived here in what feels like forever," I drawl, glancing at the note at the elevator door that says in bold letters, Repairing. "But I'd guess it's under repairs."
Wystan snorts, chin raising
