Page 4 of Accidentally Amy

Dun-dun-duuuun.

“So, um,” he said. “Do you work around here, or do you belong to this gym?”

“I was working out because—” I started, but then he nodded and cut me off.

“Okay, I don’t normally do this sort of thing, but someone’s going to get on this elevator any minute now, so I have to talk fast.”

His expression was purposeful and intense, but his mouth was relaxed, like he was enjoying our encounter. I watched the numbers light up on the display over the doors as we descended.

Eleven, ten, nine…

Please don’t stop, please don’t stop.

“I know we’re strangers,” he said, his eyes so focused on me that I fought the urge to fix my hair or fidget with my lip gloss. “But—”

Eight, seven, six…

Talk faster before someone gets on!

“I can’t stop thinking about—”

Five, four, three…

I reached out and hit the emergency button behind him.

The elevator car jolted to a halt, which made Mr. Chest stop talking as I stumbled closer to him.Did I really just do that?I watched his eyes narrow a fraction, and a wrinkle appeared between his brows.

“No, no—I’m not stopping for creepy reasons,” I said quickly, shaking my head and putting up my hands. “This isn’t a bunny-boiling,Silence of the Lambssituation, where I’m trying to have my way with you in an elevator or something. It’s just that I—”

“Fatal Attraction,” he interrupted.

“What?”

“The bunny boiling was inFatal Attraction,” he repeated, and the wrinkle of concern disappeared as his mouth twitched.

“Oh, right,” I agreed with a nod. “Well, this isn’t that situation, either. I just really want to hear what you have to say without reaching the ground floor first. That’s all this little stoppage is about, I promise.”

“What I have to say…” He stepped a little closer, but not in an intimidating way. It was more…intimate. It reminded me of the way Darcy said,Mr. Wickham?and stepped closer to Elizabeth during his rain proposal in the hand-flex version ofPride and Prejudice. I kind of wondered if I was going to faint dead away for the first time in my life as he put his hands in the pockets of his suit pants and said, “Is— I have meetings all afternoon, but can I please call you later?”

Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.

“On the telephone?” I said. “Like a psycho?”

“Well, I’m shit with emojis,” he said, looking half-serious and a little boyish.

“Send a lot of accidental eggplants?”

“No,” he said with a laugh.

“Use the same tired cry-laughing smiley for everything, like a total wank?”

“Is that a wank thing to do?”

“Absolutely, it is.”

“Well, then, um, yes.” His eyes were on mine as he said, “But honestly, all wankiness aside—”

“Wankitude,” I corrected. “Or is it wankery? Wanktasticality?”

---