Page 57 of That Time We Kissed Under the Mistletoe
The blade on my right skate slips, and I lose my balance, stumbling forward blindly. When I try to stop my fall by bracing myself against the bookshelf, the full weight of my body shoves the wall back into place.
We’re shut inside.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Three
“I take it back.” I drag a hand down my face, trying not to upset Sara. “Hanging lights in the den was clearlynotthe right move.”
“Why is it so dark?” Sara yelps. “Having only one small lightbulb in here was not a very good plan.” I think I hear her staggering toward me, still in her skates, and picture her falling and breaking her neck.
“Hold on. I’ll come to you. Just stay still until we get those skates off of you. Otherwise you really will fall and crack your skull.” I close the distance between us slowly, my arms out until I reach her. Then I take her hand to help steady her as she eases down onto a crate.
While she works on one skate, I untie the laces of the other, then I gently loosen the boot until I can safely slide it off of her foot. When my palm brushes the bare skin of her calf, goosebumps rise along my arms.
Here I am, in a long-sleeved henley with a Hawaiian shirt layered on top, and this woman’s making me shiver.
Dude. Get a grip.
“There must be a lever or handle or something on this side to get us back out of here,” Sara says, once she’s back in her socked feet. “Help me look.”
“How? It’s pitch black in here. I can’t even see my hand in front of my face.”
“We can just grope along the wall.”
My eyes are useless, but my other senses kick in, telling me Sara’s up off the crate, inching toward the moveable wall. Or at least where I think the moveable wall used to be.
So I take a few tentative steps toward the sound of her fumbling, with both my palms out protectively. When I reach the wall, I slide and pat around the edges as best I can. Sara’s to the left of me as we work side by side in the blackness. But despite our best efforts, we don’t come across anything remotely like a handle or a lever to release us from this room.
After a few more minutes of useless searching, Sara groans. “This is officially bad, isn’t it?”
The quiver in her voice spurs me to comfort her. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll just have to call someone to let us out.”
“Yes! Of course!” She lets out a little squeal. “You’re brilliant! Who can you call?”
I pat at the pockets of my jeans. “Oh, no.”
“What? Where’s your phone?”
I wince. “I left it charging in the guest room. What about yours?”
“Mine’s in my cardigan.”
“Good.”
“Which I took off in the living room.”
“Oh. Yeah. Not good.”
“I’m so sorry,” Sara groans. “Idid this to us.”
“You were just trying to give me a memorable night.” I cough out a small laugh. “Mission accomplished, by the way. Merry Hawaiian Christmas luau for the win.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“Nobody’s perfect.” I shrug. “So it turns out you’re human like the rest of us. Humans are allowed to make mistakes.”
“But I don’t want to be human!” Her words are wobbly. “I want to be … Bambi on ice.”
