Page 22 of The Misfit

The elevator takes exactly thirty seconds to arrive. I know because I count every single one, trying not to think about the fact that I left my backup gloves on Drew’s pristine coffee table. Trying not to think about Lee’s face when I ran. Trying not to think at all. My current gloves are contaminated from touching my car keys earlier.

I’ll need to change them before driving.Except …

The elevator doors slide open with a soft ding just as I hear rapid footsteps behind me.

“Salem, wait!”

Lee’s voice carries around the foyer, and I glance back just in time to catch a glimpse of him running toward the elevator, something clear in his hand—my ziplock bag of clean gloves.

One second to decide …

Wait for him, face whatever he’s going to say, and deal with the mortification of him seeing me like this.

Or …

I step into the elevator and hit the lobby button. Just before the doors close, I see him skid to a stop, my gloves held out like some peace offering, his expression a mixture of concern and something else I can’t quite read.

“Fuck,” I whisper as the elevator descends. My hands are shaking in their contaminated gloves, and I have no backups. No safety net.

My phone buzzes.

Unknown number:I have your gloves

Unknown number:Let me bring them down

Unknown number:Please

I stare at the messages until they blur, counting the floors as they tick by. How did he even get my number? Maybe Bel gave it to him.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Another buzz.

Lee?:At least let me know you’re okay

Two.

The latex squeaks as I clench my hands into fists. I should text him back and tell him I’m fine. I should thank him for remembering the gloves. I should …

My phone lights up again.

Noah:Everything okay?

Noah:Want me to come get you?

I type back a reply, my fingers trembling.

Me:Coming home. Need new gloves.

Noah:On it. Supply run to CVS?

Noah:I’ll have fresh ones waiting.

My brother. The only person who never makes me feel broken.

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