“But…”
Damn, he already knew there was a but, she thought.
“But…I feel like I’m always defending myself and my choices. Like I have to prove to them that I made the right decision by going into design instead of med school.” Sighing, she cradled the almost-empty bottle of wine against her chest. “They don’t say anything about it and they’ve never said they were disappointed; it’s just a feeling I get and I hate to let them down.”
“Maybe you’re not.”
It was something she had been arguing with herself over for years and still didn’t have an answer. She couldn’t help the way she felt and it was hard being the odd one out in her family, but…she truly did love her job.
“You’re sweet to say that, Gage, but…I don’t know. I can’t help how I feel.” With another sigh, she rested her head on his shoulder and inwardly mused at how chummy two strangers could get over wine and cookies in an elevator. It was good. Nice.
“Is that why you’re really not going home for Christmas? Is work an excuse so you don’t have to deal with this whole guilt thing?”
And so much for that good feeling from three seconds ago…
“I’m not going home because I legitimately have an important job that requires my full attention,” she argued, putting some distance between them. “And what about you?”
His eyes went a little wide. “What about me?”
“Maybe we should psychoanalyze you,” she said and paused at her accusatory tone. “I mean…can you really blame your mom for wanting to see you happy and married? Is that such a bad thing?”
Pushing to his feet, Gage stared down at her. “Look, you feel pressure about your career choice and I feel pressure because I’m single. I’m not belittling you for how you feel, so maybe don’t go…you know…pointing fingers at me!”
Hannah awkwardly got to her feet and cursed at how much her legs and butt hurt. Resting a hand against the wall, she met his gaze. “I’m not pointing fingers. I’m just saying…” Then she realized she kind of was pointing fingers because it was freaking her out how easily he was figuring her out.
Clearly I’m not as complex and mysterious as I think I am…
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” she said quietly. “We both have family issues and I had no right getting on you about them. We barely know each other so…I’m sorry.”
Raking a hand through his hair, he let out a long breath. “No big deal, Hannah. Really. I guess I’m a little defensive about it too. I know it’s stupid, but it just feels like it’s all just…so much more lately. Does that make sense?”
Nodding, she pushed away from the wall and tried to stretch a little. “It does. I think anything that doesn’t quite go our way during the holiday season feels like more.”
Twisting from side to side and then bending over to touch her toes, she did her best to try to relax. Unfortunately, the longer they were stuck, the more her anxiety was building. Talking with Gage was definitely helping–and so did the wine–but she was beginning to feel claustrophobic and needed a distraction.
“Let’s play a game,” she said when she straightened.
“A game? Here?”
Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, she nodded and sat back down. “Yeah. We can play twenty questions or “Never have I ever”…just…something!” She looked at him pleadingly. “I’m starting to freak out so…please?”
He sat back down and shifted around on the floor to get more comfortable before grinning at her. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
Gage looked down at his phone. The battery was almost dead, but he still was able to see that they’d been in the damn elevator for over three hours with no word from anyone. They’d been talking non-stop and it felt like he’d known this woman his entire life rather than a handful of hours. Some of the games she’d suggested had bordered on ridiculous–especially the “weird foods we eat when no one is looking” game–but it seriously helped them pass the time.
Hannah mentioned trying to call Shawna again, but they’d been in the middle of a rousing game of “Never have I ever” and didn’t feel like stopping. They’d finished the wine–both bottles–and an entire tin of cookies, and both were groaning about how they shouldn’t have eaten or drank quite so much.
“Truth or dare?” Hannah said sleepily from beside him. It was just barely after nine and neither of them should be tired, but…they were.
And truth or dare was kind of lame at this point because there were only so many dares one could accomplish in a six-by-eight space. But because he was tired and growing desperate, he said, “Dare.”
Hannah’s eyes lit up with surprise. “Um…okay. I dare you to bang on the doors and yell for someone to get us out of here.”
He chuckled softly as he awkwardly got to his feet. “Damn.” Everything was sore from sitting for so long and he took a moment to stretch out all the kinks–like Hannah had done earlier–before banging on the doors. “Let us out! Let us out of here! How much longer are we supposed to stay trapped?” His fists pounded the door, and behind him, Hannah was laughing hysterically. He glanced over at her before loudly adding, “I want one month’s rent compensated for this cruel torture! I’m not afraid to call my attorney!”
“Oh my goodness!” she said between fits of laughter. “That was awesome! Very dramatic!”
Sitting back down beside her, he found himself laughing too. “Okay, your turn. Truth or dare?”
“Hmm…I guess I’ll be brave like you and say dare.” She sat up straighter and seemed to be bracing herself for whatever it was he was going to throw at her.
For a moment, he couldn’t respond, not only because he wasn’t sure what to dare her to do, but because…she was pretty. She was like…really pretty.
He’d seen her around the complex before and noticed that she was attractive, but looking at her right now–even in the dim emergency lighting–he was struck with just how attractive she was.
Those soft blue eyes studied him and even without a stitch of makeup on, she took his breath away and made him think about things he had no right thinking about.
Especially while they were trapped together.
“Gage?”
“I…” Crap! “I dare you to…show me the last selfie you took.”
Lame, dude. Super lame.
Apparently Hannah agreed because she frowned at him. “Seriously? I was hoping for something like doing a cartwheel or crawling up through the ceiling of this thing and yelling for help.”
Damn. Those were much better options, he thought.
“I panicked. I really didn’t expect you to say dare.”
Pulling out her phone, Hannah scrolled through her photos before turning it toward him. “That was me on Thanksgiving night with my midnight turkey sandwich.” Laughing, she shook her head. “I’ve done that every year since I was twelve and no one believes I do it, so this year I took a picture.”
He looked closer and spotted the digital clock on the microwave behind her and it did say 12:10. “There is nothing as good as the leftovers from Thanksgiving. Luckily my grandmother and aunts do all the cooking.” Laughing softly, he added, “You know, because my mom can’t cook.”