Page 16 of Merry Little Mishap

“I don’t believe that,” he said, rather confidently. “Especially tonight, I can’t imagine you going out like that… and not being hit on.”

“Like what?” I stared down at my outfit, playing with its gold buttons.

“Like that, Elena…” he rolled his eyes, amused. “It’s just that you look nice… like,really, really,nice.”

Nick stared for a hard second, which turned into two, then three. My head swirled with blood and booze, my lips numb to a buzz that surely made me blush.

Me? Nice looking?

His determination to not look away was met with the most alluring challenge, as Camilla’s daunting cackle morphed into an encouraging chant in my head.

Do it, do it, do it!

I squeezed onto the gift, the elevator beeping loudly, stilling time as my mouth opened and my breath fell short into the most confident response I could muster.

I wasn’t sure how I did it, or why it suddenly felt so easy, but my words spilled out in perfect harmony to the unapologetic sincerity of my eyes.

“You look good, too, Nick.” I twisted my hands, trying to, but unable to resist the most obnoxious smile. “Actually, I think you’re really cute. Always have.”

The elevator jolted to a stop, reaching my level as I turned to face the reflective door. Never had I felt so completely empowered, so totally in control as my one hidden truth finally came out in the most spectacular way. It was effortlessly seamless when I turned back with a seductive wink.

I faced forward, smiling at my reflection for a second, waiting for the door to open.

Nothing.

Nick reached for the button and pressed it.

I continued to stare.

Nothing again.

The elevator door wasn't opening.

It.

Wasn’t.

Opening.

“Oh, that’s not good,” Nick mumbled while the elevator buzzed with an annoying alarm.

I pushed him aside, my tiny elbow knocking him away as I frantically pressed the buttons.

“What did you do?” I asked loudly, partially to Nick, partially to me. I admitted he was cute—actually cute—my last declaration like some magical incantation that locked us in this metal shoebox. How? Why? Was I really stuck in here after confessing that?

“I didn’t do anything,” Nick assured calmly. “These old elevators sometimes need a little help.”

“Well, you’re the help, right?”

“I’m the super.”

“Doesn’t that involve this?”

“This is a little outside my wheelhouse.” Nick laid his bags on the floor, hovering over my shoulder. “This requires an engineer sometimes… though I doubt it’s serious.”

I pulled out my phone and sighed, the screen completely black, entirely dead. “You have to call someone!”

“I don’t have my phone… but it’s ok, there’s a button here for service.”

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