To make matters worse, the hallway lights choose that moment to turn off with a resonant clank, familiar but somehow louder than it’s ever been.
Splendid. Wonderful.
I’ve said a million times that nothing good ever comes of this holiday. And yep, voilà, here we are, caught in the dark,alonewith my sexy little nemesis.
Merry fucking Christmas to all.
CHAPTERFIVE
Jules
This can’t be happening. It can’t. Not me stuck with this hot grinch of a man, hanging six floors—not five, like the French would have you believe—above the ground in this creaky antique metal box, wearing myfreakingparty shoes and little else.
Please, God. Don’t do this.
I shut my eyes and picture how warm it is in my apartment. Hot, even, because of some weird radiator thing. So hot, I wear summer PJs and open the bedroom window so I won’t suffocate in my sleep. Of course, that won’t be an issue now, since I’ll freeze to death here instead.
“Push a button,” I say, to my neighbor’s obvious annoyance.
“What do you think I’m doing?”
“Nothing, as far as I can tell.”
“I’m pushing buttons.”
“Here, let me try.” I turn in the dark, step on his toes, and bump into some part of him, which leads to more of that muttering he started a couple floors down, then bat his hand aside. “Do you even know which button it is?”
“Yes. I do.” His voice is low and angry. “And it’s not working.”
“Okay, well, maybe if I turn my flashlight on—” Halfway through patting my pockets, I realize I left my phone upstairs. I’ve got my keys and nothing else. Well, besides the torture devices into which I chose to stuff my feet before heading out into the frigid night.
“You carry a flashlight?”
“The one on my phone.” I sigh. “Which I left up in my place. You got yours?”
He scuffles around, to the sounds of crinkling paper. Seconds later, a phone screen lights up the too-dark, too-tight space.
Oh, thank God. That’s better.
After a second’s fumbling, he turns the flashlight toward the elevator buttons and presses the 5.
Nothing. No light, no movement. No century-old engine warming up.
“Try the six,” I tell him, surprised when he actually obeys.
Nope.
“That one.” I point at the red button engraved with a bell.
With what sounds like a sigh of relief, he pushes it. A harsh ringing shrieks through the building.
“Good,” he says. “That’s sure to wake up anyone who’s sleeping.”
I nod, full of hope, a little excitement. He smacks the button again and I swear the sound rattles the whole elevator shaft.
We wait, bodies tense, ears perked.
Again, he stabs at the damn thing and this time, I put my hands up to cover my ears. But still, there’s not a sound from the rest of the building. Not a door opens. Not a voice, not a freaking footfall.
