Page 92 of Dropping the Ball

“Hey. OSHA violation.” He knocks his hard hat. “Can’t let the client see that. Speaking of which, I didn’t expect to see you today.”

My stomach behaves like we’re doing an elevator speed run, float and sink, heavy and light. He’s in a plain white tee and camo carpenter pants, but they’re soft-looking, like flannel. It is insanely hot. Him. In the outfit. It’s making the elevator warm. Or maybe just me.

“Didn’t expect to be here today,” I say, “but I probably should have. Probably should have been here even sooner. Days ago. Weeks ago.”

He cocks his head, waiting for me to explain.

“About an hour ago, I realized I’ve been an idiot. I would have been here sooner, but traffic is bad. I came to tell you . . .” I pause to take a deep breath. Why am I nervous? He already said he wants this. “I was wrong on Halloween. We should date.”

Surprise crosses Micah’s face. Maybe I should have set up a whole scene? Hinted at this conversation before inviting him to dinner at my house? Pointed toZombie Lakeon the TV screen and waggled my eyebrows?

Why is he taking so long to answer? I rub my sweaty palms down my gray suit pants. “Micah?”

He rubs the back of his neck, still eyeing me. “I don’t think so.”

He says it the way I talk to Daisy Buchanan when she’s accidentally done something naughty, like tangle herself in my sweater.No, Daisy. Gentle but firm.

“No?” I hear my heartbeat in my ears.Hello to you, cortisol, the rejection hormone.

“Too much whiplash,” he says. “We get close, you withdraw and say no dating. Last night, we get close, you withdraw, and I get the silent treatment in a dead elevator for almost an hour. Today you’re here saying ‘no, let’s do this’?” He shakes his head. “Red flag.”

“I’m not a red flag.” It’s the most insulting thing anyone has ever said to me. I take a step back in the small space. “I’ve never been a red flag. I am the queen of spotting and rejecting other people’s red flags. I am a green flag. I’m such a green flag, they should slap a star on my forehead and sing ‘O Christmas Tree.’”

His eyebrows go up. “Who is ‘they’?”

“The freaking elves.”

“Believes in elves. Noted. That’s another red flag.”

“Elf yourself, Micah.” The last time I felt this self-conscious, there was a light post involved.

His lips twitch, but none of this is funny.

“Whatever,” I say. “A relationship sounds great as long as I’m perfectly calm and pulled together. One elevator meltdown, and it changes everything. Got it.”

“I’m not going to say yes to this just because you’re in a mood, Katie. I’m ready to say yes when you’re sure you want a relationship.”

“I came over here because I realized that you are the one person who already knows I’ve failed, and it doesn’t matter to you. Doesn’t that make you my person?” I press the first floor button. “If that’s not me knowing what I want, then I don’t know what is.”

“So you’re here because I make you feel good.” The elevator stops and he leans over and sends us back up. “Happy to do that, but I want to be wanted even when everything else in your life is good too.”

“Wants to be wanted, does not want to be needed. Sounds healthy.” The salt in my tone is unhealthy.

The elevator opens, but since the construction noise has died down, we ignore it.

He waves out toward the warehouse. “I will be everything you need in here. I got you.”

The doors rumble shut, but the elevator stays put.

“Here,” he gestures between us, “I want to be wantedandneeded. Needed because I’m wanted. I’m ready when you are, but not before.”

I stare at him, my frustration growing. “If me standing here saying I’m ready isn’t enough, how am I supposed to prove it?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. You’ll know when you know.”

I clench my jaw hard enough to snap rebar. We’re talking in circles.I want you. No, you need me, and I want you to need and want me. I just said I want you. I need proof. What proof? I don’t know.

I reach for the button to send us down again, but the elevator starts the descent on its own. Apparently,itknows its own mind. Good job, elevator.

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