Page 16 of Wish You Weren't Here
We round a corner, and I see a sign that reads ‘Dying to Escape’. I can’t help but smile to myself. He’s brought me to an escape room? That’s the kind of dorky date that you go on with someone when you’re comfortable with them.
So he isn’t just looking to get me drunk and take me back to his room again – which is what I would expect of any man, to be honest – he’s actually put thought into this.
‘I love it,’ I say, genuinely impressed.
‘I’m glad you think so,’ he replies, holding the door open for me. ‘Because we’re about to be locked into it.’
Inside, the place has a sort of eerie yet exciting vibe. Dim lighting, mysterious music playing softly in the background, and a front desk cluttered with old books, items of evidence, and plastic severed limbs.
The host, a middle-aged man with a friendly smile, greets us and explains the rules.
‘It’s a murder-mystery escape room,’ he says, adjusting his glasses. ‘I’ll be watching you on cameras, and I can give you hints if you get stuck. Don’t worry, you’re not actually locked in, but the goal is to follow the clues and escape within an hour. Think you’re up for the challenge?’
Ethan and I exchange a look. I’ve never done an escape room before but I’m actually really excited.
‘Let’s do it,’ I say, sounding confident but actually having little faith in my ability to escape. Ethan laughs – his voice so low, sexy – it sends a shiver down my spine. Hopefully it just seems like I’m really into the murder mystery.
We’re led into the room and it’s like stepping into a video game. The walls are lined with bookshelves, there’s an old-fashioned desk in one corner, a fireplace in another, and various items scattered around – a typewriter, an ornate boxwith a combination lock, and a large, ominous-looking painting hanging above the mantelpiece. Oh, and then there is the serial-killer-style wall of photos, letters, receipts and even a lock of hair.
I take a breath, taking it all in.
‘Wow,’ I blurt.
‘Okay, I’ll leave you to it,’ the host says. ‘Your hour starts now.’
And then it’s just us.
‘I don’t even know where to begin,’ I say, twirling around on the spot.
Ethan chuckles, moving closer to me as we start to look around.
‘I know where to start: by telling you that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since last night,’ he says, his voice just loud enough for me to hear. ‘It was amazing. You’re amazing. I’ve had that image of you in my shower all day, the way you felt – I feel like I can still taste you on my lips…’
His words make me feel dizzy.
‘I—’
Before I can say anything more, a voice crackles over the speaker, awkwardly interrupting. ‘Uh, just a reminder – I can hear you as well as see you,’ the host tells us.
Ethan and I burst out laughing, the tension breaking for a moment.
‘Good to know now,’ Ethan says, grinning at the camera, giving the host the thumbs up. ‘Wish I’d known earlier.’
I laugh as we get back to searching for clues, but the sexual tension between us is almost overwhelming. It’s like we’re in the build-up, seeing how long we can last before giving in to the pull that’s constantly drawing us together. It makes everything so much more difficult but we do what we came here to do, and look for clues, opening lock after lock, piecing it all together.
Ethan brushes past me, his body pressing briefly against the back of mine as he reaches for a locked box on the sideboard. The familiar physical contact sends a jolt of electricity through me, and I have to bite my lip to keep from reacting too visibly.
‘I’m in,’ he says, triumphantly entering the numbers we’ve been collecting into the combination lock. It clicks open, revealing a handle – the final piece we need to escape the room.
‘Good work, detective,’ I tell him.
‘Thanks,’ he replies. ‘Fancy grabbing a drink with a genuine hero?’
‘Sure,’ I say as I watch him fuss with the door we’re supposed to leave through.
He has the handle in place but it doesn’t budge.
Ethan frowns, trying the handle again, but it’s definitely stuck.
