Stuck in an Elevator

                I stare numbly at the glowing button on the key pad, waiting for the elevator doors to close. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the doors as they jerk back open just when they are about to close, and a tall figure waiting behind them. He’s wearing dark jeans, a white shirt with a black leather riding jacket. My eyes flicker to his face and I quickly turn my head to hide my sudden blush.

                It’s Marc Warren. The guy that all the teacher at school hate, all the girls drool over, and boys secretly envy. Everybody is afraid of him because he has a nasty temper. He keeps quiet until he explodes.

                He’s just one of those guys that you don’t know what they’re going to do next. One time, he banged down because the teacher wouldn’t let him in after the bell. Another time he drove his dad’s Jaguar into the front wall of the school. My dad told me it was because his parents were divorcing. Mr. Warren paid for the damages his son committed. He has the money for it. He’s founder and CEO of Warren enterprises.

                I always kind of figured that’s the reason they haven’t kicked him out of school yet. I mean, he’s done so many terrible things it’s a wonder he’s not locked up in some penitentiary.

                I hate elevator silences. Especially with this guy in here. I start to fumble with my back pack, digging for my iPod, but in the process, the bag drops and half of the contents of the inside are exposed across the elevator floor. Then I’m on my knees and glance up to see just how far my things have gone, but I quickly look back down again as I see Marc getting to his knees as well to help me. Stuffing my things into my bag as fast as I can, I try to avoid looking at his face.

                “Thanks,” I say and get to my feet, my iPod tightly gripped in my hand.

                He stands up, too. “You forgot this.” I can feel his eyes on me, but I still don’t look at him as I grab my journal from his hand.

                He turns away as if what had just happened---didn’t.

                I turn away, too, plugging my head phones into my ears and I start scrolling through my artists.

                Before I can find something to listen to the elevator stops suddenly, the lights go out and the emergency lights kick on at our feet. The AC cuts off, too, so it’s quiet.

                Marc stops forward in front of me. I step back. He presses the emergency call button.

                “Yes?” we hear come through faintly.

                “Pam, it’s Marc. I’m stuck in the executive elevator with Connor Mathews’ daughter, Sybil,” Marc says, and my eyes widen in alarm. He knows my name.

                “Are you all right?”

                “Yes.”

                “I’ll call 911 right away.”’

                “Well, tell them to hurry up because the AC kicked off. It’s about to get hot in here.”

                “Yes, Mr. Warren.”

                I sink down to the floor in the corner, my knees against my chest. He turns away from the key pad and starts pacing. I bring my iPod around to the front of my face, look at the songs and just pick something random. “Seven Devils” by Florence + the Machine begins to blare in my ears.

                Eventually, as we waited, Marc sits down against the wall opposite, facing my direction. I still try to keep my eyes focused on anything but him. After a while, though, I feel him staring at me. I glance up and look away again. I was right. He is staring at me.

                Doing my best to ignore it, I close my eyes and let my head fall back against the cool wall. I’m almost asleep; when I’m jerked awake by Marc pushing at my leg with his foot.

                I press pause and finally look at him straight on and I’m stunned by the combination of his blue eyes and dark hair. My eyes were drawn to the tattoos peeking out on his neck from the collars of his shirt and jacket. The partial swirl of black ink isn’t enough for me to identify what it is.

                “What?” I ask.

                “What are you listening to?”

                “Random crap,” I answer.

                “Well, can you turn it down?”

                “Um… Yeah?” It sounds more like a question. I grab my iPod and turn the volume down like he asked.

                “How do you know my name?” I ask him.

                He gives me an are-you-stupid look, but answers anyway. “Your dad is the head of the legal department of this company,” he says. “Plus, we’ve had almost every class together since we were eight. I’m not stupid.”

                “Good to know,” I say, unable to help the sarcasm that hangs onto my words.

                He glares at me, and I fall under his scrutiny, shifting away from his direction and closing my eyes again.

                “Hey,” he says to me. I turn to him again, my eyes open.

                But he doesn’t speak, like he’s hesitating.

                “What?” I ask again.

                He gets to his knees, crawling across the floor to get closer to me. So close I think I can smell him.

                “What are you doing?” I question.

                “Will you go to Prom with me?” he asks.

                I’m not expecting this. My eyebrows snap together and I look at him suspiciously. I am not the type to normally get asked out. My hair is too bushy and I don’t wear makeup or the latest designer clothes. Or, so I hear from the Populars in the girls’ bathroom at school. And now, Marc freaking Warren is asking me out? To Prom?

                “Is there something wrong with your head?” I ask.

                “No,” he says.

                “Then what the hell are you asking me for?”

                He rolls his eyes. “It’s not going to be a real date.”

                “What?”

                “I have this deal with my dad that if I get a proper girl as a girlfriend and take her to Prom, then he’ll give me what I want,” he explains.

                “And you think I’m proper?” I ask him incredulously.

                “You have a GPA of 4.5, and you’re not exactly hot,” he says. “So, are you in or out?”

                “If you were trying to butter me up, you did very poorly. Because first, you never tell a girl you want to go out with, as a real girlfriend or not, that you don’t think she’s attractive. And second �" “

                “In or out?” he asks me again, obviously annoyed.

                “What’s in it for me?”

                He thinks. “You can have my Mustang GT 500.”

                “Do I look like I’m into sports cars?”

                “…No,” he says slowly. He looks me over, from head to toe. Then he says, “You can have my Shakespeare books. They’re first editions.”

                My eyes widen. “You have first editions of Shakespeare? Why? How? Who - ?”

                “My grandmother thought I could learn a few things from them, but all they’re doing is collecting dust on my shelves.”

                I’m still baffled that he’d give them to me, so I don’t reply.

                “So,” he says. “You be my girlfriend and I give you the books. Deal?”

                “Fake girlfriend,” I remind him.

                “Only behind closed doors. To everyone else we’re… madly in love and want to make this work.”

                “How long, exactly, are we supposed to carry out this charade?”

                “However long it takes for me to get what I want.”

                “And what is that?” I ask. “What you want?”

                He looks away. “It’s… personal.”

                “I see.”

                “It’s not anything bad, it’s just… something my dad wants me to work for in the relationship department. He thinks a good girl will calm me down.”

                It’s silent and I take in all the information I’ve just had thrown at me. Then he holds out his hand. “Deal?”

                “Deal,” I say and take it.

                To Be Continued....

Reviews

[blegh]

OMFG! LOVE IT!
continue it! u showed me this in class too! i love it!

[Asilem]

Do you think I should read this at the play on words thing?

[blegh]

yeah! then everyone will want to read it!!! :D

[Asilem]

Okay, well, can you help me with it? I think it needs some editing, like more details added or taken away. You're the one with the book about to be published. I'm turning to you. ;P

[blegh]

aww if feel so loved!
send it to me by file on Microsoft word and ill edit for you! k?
email: [email protected]

[Asilem]

alrighty. :)

[Asilem]

hey. I was going over it today at school and am retyping it, so don't start editing the version I sent you. I'll let you know when I send it to you.

[blegh]

Alright . Email me the retyped one when you're done

[Asilem]

SENT