Page 2 of Elevator Pitch

“Looks like we’ll have to wait.” His screen illuminates his face, and I marvel at his attractive features again. His full lips, sharp jaw, and aristocratic nose. Suppose it could be worse. I could be stuck with Jace’s totally obnoxious cousin instead of a gorgeous straight dude.

“At least our flashlights work.” We both flip ours on and aim them around every corner of the small space.

He punches the emergency button that sounds an alarm, then aims the flashlight toward the doors. I notice they’re open a crack, and when my gaze scales to the top it’s easier to tell we’re not exactly level.

“I think we’re stuck between floors.”

“I think you’re right. Do you hear anyone?” I feel a bit off-kilter, which makes me desperate to get the fuck out of here. “Help!”

There’s no response. I try again, this time louder.

“You might want to save your voice—and your battery. We’ll try again if we hear anyone.”

I sigh because he’s right, and with one click, we’re plunged into darkness again.

I find the wall behind me and lean against it. “Poor Jace and Rob.”

“Are those your friends?”

“The grooms.”

“The grooms? Oh, okay…I get it.”

“Yeah, two guys getting married. It’s legal now for us gays.”

I try to tone down the sharpness in my voice, especially since I have no idea what his views are.

“Of course, I knew that. Since 2014.”

“2015, actually.”

“I was close.” He chuckles. “Can’t say I’ve ever been to a same-sex wedding.”

“Well, they’re pretty much all the same, aren’t they? Two people committing to each other, reciting vows, and exchanging rings?”

“Did I say something to offend you?”

“No, sorry.”Chill, Graham. “My bad. I think it’s my automatic defense mechanism to people thinking straight is the default.”

There’s an awkward moment of silence before he says, “How do you know I’m straight?”

His voice is sort of shaky and quiet, and I wonder if he’s ever said that out loud. I rub at a stitch in my chest, feeling guilty.

“I wasn’t making any assumptions…okay, maybe I was.” And you know what they say about assumptions. “I should probably stop talking.” I huff out an exasperated breath.

“It’s okay. You wouldn’t be the first,” he says. “I’m not out. Yet. Or ever. Not in my profession. Christ, why am I even saying any of this to you? You’re a total stranger.”

“It’s all cool.” My lips pull into a smile. “Besides, there’s something about spilling all your secrets when the other person can only hear you but not see you. Probably why that one reality show is popular.”

“Which one?”

I try my best to describe the premise. “The one where they can’t lay eyes on each other for days, so they just sit and talk from separate rooms. Damn, what is it called?”

“Love is Blind,” he blurts out.

“That’s it!” My voice is a little too loud. “There have been a few love connections on that show. Not that we’re trying to make one now—so, what profession?”

“Huh?” Likely he has whiplash from my sudden change in topic.

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