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"Shit," Erica mutters under her breath when she catches a glimpse of the time on her phone as she shoves it in her pocket. She hurriedly grabs her keys, iPod and bus pass and distributes them between the pockets of her jacket and her jeans as she heads out the door. Thankfully, her roommate is home so she saves the ten seconds it normally take to lock up the apartment. Instead, she uses that time to walk down the hallway and stab at the button to summon the elevator, which gives the usual chorus of creaks and groans as it lowers from the thirteenth floor to the tenth.
"Shit," she mutters again, resisting the urge to tap her foot as it slowly descends. She's pretty sure that even if she books it to the bus stop and miraculously manages to not miss the bus, she's going to be late to school. It's almost noon, she has class in half an hour, and the bus ride to the college is twenty minutes on a good day, double that on a bad day.
In this city, it's nearly impossible to tell what kind of day it is until you're already on the bus and ensnared in traffic.
Technically, she could just turn around and head back to her apartment and it wouldn't be that much of a loss. They're just doing review for an upcoming midterm, and Erica has a solid grasp on the material. However, her professor is well known for giving bonus marks for people who actually bother to come to the review classes and, well, Erica's not going to turn down free marks.
The elevator finally arrives, doors opening with a screech that makes her shudder. There's one other person standing in it, a woman her own age that Erica's seen around a few times. She's dressed for running; dark knee length leggings, a loose tank layered over a florescent pink sports bra, equally florescent green shoes. She's currently in the process of pulling her flowing dark hair up into a messy bun, with an ease Erica has never been able to master.
"I like your shoes," Erica says, stabbing the already lit-up button for the ground floor.
"Thanks!" The girl grins wide as she polishes off her bun with a flick of her wrist. "I just wish they were as comfortable as they are bright. I'm still breaking them in." Erica returns the smile and reaches in her pocket for her headphones.
Before she can put them in her ears, the elevator lurches to a stop and the lights go out.
Erica just barely manages to keep herself from stumbling forward into the elevator panel. After a moment, emergency lights flicker on, bathing the small box in cherry red light. She shoves her headphones back into her pocket and starts pressing buttons on the panel. None of them light up; even the button that is supposed to connect to an emergency phone line remains stubbornly dark.
"Shit," she says, making one last halfhearted stab at the button to open the doors. "So much for getting to class on time."
"So much for getting in a run before class," the woman sighs, leaning back against the wall and slowly sliding down to the ground.
"What program are you in?" Erica asks, mirroring her position, half expecting the power to come back on as soon as she sits down.
It doesn't.
"History. French is my minor. What about you?"
"Nursing," Erica replies. "I just switched into it this year. I was taking criminology before."
"Well, that's quite the change," the woman replies, deep dimples popping into her round cheeks as she smiles. After a moment, she leans across the elevator (which is narrow enough that Erica can almost touch the end of it with her outstretched toes) and sticks out her hand. "I'm Allison. I live on the thirteenth floor."
"Erica. Tenth floor." Allison has a firm grip, but doesn't linger too long. It's a handshake that's obviously well practiced. "How long do you think we're going to be stuck in here?"
"No idea. I don't have any signal in here either," Allison says, tucking her phone back into the armband strapped around her bicep. "Wish I had some coffee."
"Me too. Or a white chocolate mocha." Allison makes an appreciative sound and stretches out further, until her bright sneakers are resting beside Erica's hip.
"Salted caramel mocha," she replies, sighing wistfully.
"That'd be good too," Erica says, stomach rumbling on cue. She wasn't hungry or thirsty when she left her apartment but now, faced with the thought of being stuck for hours in a six by six box, the only thing her brain can focus on is the thought of a snack or caffeine. There might be a protein bar stashed in the bottom of her bag but she doesn't want to succumb to temptation quite yet, just in case their imprisonment lasts all day.
Instead, she asks, "So, why history?"
&.
Two hours pass. The power remains off.
The temperature in the elevator keeps creeping up. Erica has shed her jacket and tee but even in just a thin camisole, its sweltering. Allison's tank top is resting in her lap and there's a thin gleam of sweat along the neckline of her sports bra.
If it gets any hotter, Erica thinks she's going to have to take off her pants, even though she usually saves that for the third date.
On the plus side, she's gotten to know Allison over the last two hours. Their topics of conversation have roamed from their issues with the college's administration to their favorite movies to the most ridiculous things they've ordered from Amazon while drunk. She has the most genuine smile Erica has ever seen; whenever it comes out, it lights up her entire face. She doesn't seem the least bit self-conscious about her laugh, which seems to echoes around the elevator more and more the longer they talk. When their talk strays to more serious areas, she listens with wide eyes and clasped hands. She asks questions and actually seems interested in Erica's answers.
Erica might just have a crush. Or, at the very least, the potential for a crush is definitely present. All the material is there.
"I can't believe this," Allison groans once two hours of being trapped ticks over to two and a half hours. "If this was a planned outage and the superintendent didn't warn us, I'm going to be pissed."
"I wonder if you could sue them for that," Erica ponders jokingly. They're lying side by side, heads cushioned on Erica's spread out jacket and bag. They've been sharing Allison's bottle of water for the last little while, and they split Erica's protein bar just after the second hour. Allison's shoulder keeps brushing against hers and even after so many hours of being stuck in a glorified tin can, she still smells wonderful, like clean sweat and vanilla.
Erica makes a mental note to ask what kind of perfume she uses.
"Isn't that your field? You're the criminologist," Allison retorts with a laugh.
"Ex-criminologist," Erica points out. "But if you need someone to stitch you up after a bar fight, I'm your gal."
"Haven't been in any of those lately. Usually I win though."
It sounds like Allison is joking, but Erica would be surprised if there wasn't at least a little bit of truth to it.
"I'm glad I'm stuck in here with you," she says, tilting her head to the side so she can better see Allison. "You're much better company that most of the people in this building. Like that guy on the seventh floor-"
"Who wears like four different colognes and leers?" Allison finishes. "I've filed like five fake noise complains against him, trying to get him thrown out. It hasn't worked yet."
"Maybe I should start doing it too. Strength in numbers." Allison's laugh bursts forth again as her head drops to the side as well. There's an eyelash resting on the curve of her cheek and Erica's fingers itch to brush it away.
"I'm glad I'm stuck in here with you too," she says quietly, lips curving into a soft smile. Her fingers brush against Erica's and Erica returns the gesture, trailing her index finger along Allison's. Allison's grin hitches slightly before it grows even larger as she properly twines their hands together.
Erica hopes Allison can't feel her heartbeat through her palm. It's been a very, very long time since she got butterflies from merely holding someone's hand.
"So," she says, gaze dropping to Allison's slightly parted lips. "What-"
They've spent so long bathed in the soft red glow of the emergency lights that when the glaring white overheads pop back on, Erica winces and covers her eyes with her free hand. With a loud, rattling clank and a lurch, the elevator powers back on and starts descending to the ground floor. Erica slowly gets back to her feet, dropping Allison's hand in the process so that she can start to gather up her things.
"Well, that was five minutes shy of three hours," Allison says, stretching her arms above her head as high as the roof of the elevator allows. "Which means my only class of the day just finished up."
"My review class finished up half an hour ago," Erica sighs, pulling her jacket back on. She has another lecture later in the evening, but that's still four hours in the future.
She can think of another way she'd like to spend at least some of those hours.
"Did you want to go grab some coffee?" she asks as the elevator slides to a stop on the first floor. "Maybe after your run?"
"You know, I'm not really in the running mood anymore," Allison says with a shrug, pulling her loose tank back over her head. "And I'm still craving a salted caramel mocha." She quickly runs her fingers through her bun and picks up her water bottle just as the doors haltingly open. As soon as they step out into the deserted lobby, Allison holds out her hand, one eyebrow raised meaningfully.
"Lead the way," she says, grinning from ear to ear.
Erica takes her hand and tries not to beam the entire way to the nearest coffee shop.