A few moments pass in silence as we ride the elevator. Suddenly, there's a loud bang and the elevator screeches to a stop, the lights flickering before going out.
Chapter Sixteen
"See what you've done!" I shout.
"Don't panic," Dylan says fairly calmly.
"Don't panic? Don't panic? How can I not panic? We're stuck in a pitch black elevator--"
A light suddenly switches on. Dylan sits his phone on the ground, the light emitting from the flash lense. The small space is illuminated in dim light.
Dylan takes a seat on the floor, leaning back against the wall.
"I told you not to press all those buttons," I snap. "I fucking told you."
Dylan rolls his eyes. "Will you pipe the fuck down? This has happened before. They'll come for us."
I turn, scanning the buttons for the emergency call button.
"Don't even try," he says. "It's broken."
"Well shouldn't they fix it?" I ask, my voice shrill.
"They should, but all the maintenance people here are dipshits."
I sigh and run a hand through my hair. "Well, how long are we going to be here? We have to drop off that file."
Dylan stares at me for a moment before bursting into laughter. "You're stuck in an small, compact elevator with me, someone you clearly despise, and you're worried about dropping off the file?"
I crack a smile. He has a point. "I guess you're right," I sigh. I slowly take a seat by Dylan, near the light. "And for the record, I don't despise you."
This causes Dylan to laugh more. "That's a real joke," he snorts.
"I don't," I protest. "You're just an asshole."
"Yeah, I get that a lot."
"Well, you could be nicer to people."
"And where would that get me?"
"I don't know...friends? A girlfriend?"
"How do you know I don't have a girlfriend?" He raises an eyebrow.
"Oh...sorry." I blush.
He laughs again. "I'm just teasing," he says. "You're so gullible."
"I'm not gullible," I snap.
"You know, you really deny things a lot."
"I deny things that aren't true."
"Right." Dylan snorts.
"Oh, look. You're being an asshole again." I fake smile at him and cross my arms over my chest.
Dylan laughs. "Again? I thought I was always an asshole."
"True," I say. "You behave in this constant state of asshole continuum."
He laughs again. "At least we can agree on something."
I smile. "Yeah," I say.
Dylan sighs and takes a pack of mint gum from the pocket of his slacks. My mind flashes to when our lips brushed in his car, the way his breath smelled like spearmint. I avert my eyes as he unwraps a piece and pops it into his mouth.
"Want one?" He asks.
I shake my head. "I only chew watermelon gum."
Dylan raises his eyebrows. "Why?"
I shrug. "It's the best flavor."
"That's bullshit."
"No, it's not."
"Mint lasts the longest."
"So? Watermelon tastes the best."
"No it does not."
"Yes it does."
"No it--"
"Enough!" I shout and we laugh. We really do argue about everything, including the best flavor of gum. I'd rather argue with him about trivial things, though, than insult each other.
"So tell me, Katherine," Dylan says. "What's the real reason you moved to Edinburgh?"
"I'm not answering that," I say.
"Why not? Got a dirty little secret?" The tone in his voice makes me shudder.
"No," I tell him firmly. "No I don't." My heart pounds loudly in my chest.
"Then tell me."
"I know you're just mad I moved into that apartment."
He stiffens. "What do you mean?"
"You're obviously upset I moved there. Who lived there before?"
Dylan's shoulders relax slightly. "Uh...I don't remember," he says, his voice having an edge to it.
"Oh." I know he's hiding something. Or, more than one thing. With Dylan, I could never know.
"What was your reason for moving to Edinburgh?" I ask Dylan.
"I was sick of Britain."
"Well, I was sick of London."
"Bullshit."
"No, it's not," I say. "I think your reason is bullshit."
"Why? You know nothing about me, Katie."
"You know nothing about me, either."
"I have your file right here." He smirks.
"Well..." I'm unable to think of a response.
"I still think you're a liar," Dylan says.
"Takes one to know one."
"That it does." The corners of Dylan's mouth turn down slightly.
We sit silently for a few moments, the small elevator illuminated by the soft glow of the light from Dylan's phone. I look at my lap and notice Dylan and I are only sitting a few inches apart. I don't remember sitting so close to him. I can smell the mint of his gum from where I sit, along with the faint scent of cologne.
"Do you really love him?" Dylan asks out of the blue.
Chapter Seventeen
Why Dylan always brings my relationship up, I don't know. "Yes," I lie. "I'm going to tell him tonight." I honestly have no idea where James even is. He's most likely at work and I'll call him when I get home tonight. If I ever get out of this damn elevator.
"Oh." I can't decipher the tone in Dylan's voice.
"Why do you even care?" I ask him.
"I don't."
"You're sure acting like it."
"Well, I've always been a shitty actor."
"Just tell me why."
Dylan sighs. "You don't let things go, do you?"
I shake my head.
Dylan looks at the ceiling. I take it he's not going to elaborate on anything he said before, so I look away from him. "If only smoking was allowed in elevators," he says after awhile.
"It's broken already," I point out.
Dylan looks at me, humor in his eyes. "You smoke, Katherine?"
"No," I say. "Not anymore."
"You used to?" He raises his eyebrows.
"Yeah, in high school."
Dylan nods. "Wow," he says.
"Why is that so hard to believe?"
"Because you're you."
"So?"
"So, you seem like if someone gave you a smoke you'd pass out."
I scoff. "I can take a smoke, Dylan. You underestimate me."
"Apparently."
I sigh. I could use a cigarette right about now. Dylan makes me want to take up smoking again, with all the stress he causes me. I was never really addicted, it was just something I did every once in awhile. I don't think I'd ever let myself get addicted to anything; I'd hate not having that self control.
"How much longer are we going to be in here?" I groan.
Dylan shrugs.
I lean my head back against the wall. The temperature seems to be rising in the small space and Dylan rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. My eye catches on black ink that dots his forearms.
"You have tattoos?" I ask.
Dylan turns his arm to look at the tattoos. "Yeah," he answers.
"I didn't know that," I say. I have seen him in t-shirts before, but I've never paid any attention to the tattoos.
"How about you? Got any tattoos?" Dylan's eyes are teasing.
"Actually, yes," I answer proudly.
"Liar."
"I'm not lying!"
"Where is it, then?"
"On the back of my shoulder."
"No shit," Dylan says, his expression humorous. "Look at you, Katie, smoking and having tattoos."
"See, I told you that you know nothing about me," I say smugly. "That file doesn't know shit."
Dylan smiles. "I guess not."
A smile traces on my lips. I turn my head to look at Dylan. "Can I ask you something?"
"Shoot."
"Why were you so rude
to me when we first met?"
"I'm rude to everyone."
"I don't think that's true. You went out of your way to be extra rude to me, and you know it."
Dylan frowns. "All right, you want to know the reason?"
I nod.
"I was rude because I know what kind of person you are," he says. "You've got a perfect life. You're smart, you've got a good job, you've got a good boyfriend. You don't give a shit about anyone who isn't up to your standards. You're from London, for Christ's sake! You're a snob, Katherine, a fucking snob. And I knew it from the second I saw you bring all those boxes up when you first moved in. You wanted to know the reason; well there's your damn reason." His voice is dripping in venom by the end.
I feel like I've been slapped. I didn't know Dylan was so quick to judge. Anger burns like fire in my veins. "You know, you're really one to talk," I snap. "You didn't even make an attempt to get to know me before judging me like that. I at least tried to be nice, but look where that got me. I may not know you that well, Dylan, but at least I didn't judge you before I even met you!" I shoot to my feet, not wanting to be in Dylan's proximity.
"I didn't judge you, I didn't have to. You're proving right now that you're as pretentious as I originally thought!" Dylan gets to his feet, too, his eyes blazing.
"Well, you're an asshole. And you go out of your way to piss people off!"
"At least I'm not in love with an idiot!" He shouts.
I recoil, flashing my eyes. "James isn't an idiot!"
"Obviously he is, if he can put up with you!"
I can't help myself. I take a step forward and slap Dylan right across the face. He puts a hand to his cheek, shock evident in his features. He looks back at me before taking me by my wrists and pushing me against the wall of the elevator, cornering me.
"Want to try that again, Kate?" He hisses. His touch on my skin sends fire through my body, his eyes flashing.
"You deserved it," I snap. "And don't call me Kate."
"Then don't piss me off," he snaps.
"I'm not afraid of you."
Dylan narrows his eyes. His face is only inches from mine, his breath fanning out over my face. I stare into his eyes. The green is darker than usual, his face bathed in the dim light from his phone that remains on the floor.
"Not yet, you aren't," he says before stepping away, turning his back on me.
Shivers run down my spine. "What do you mean?"
Dylan laughs darkly, avoiding my question. "Why don't you just stay away from me, Katherine?"
"Because you always show up," I say. "Trust me, I'd want nothing more than to never see you again."
Dylan turns around, a frown on his face. "Be careful what you wish for," he says.
I clench my jaw, readying a comeback. I'm about to spit another insult at him when the doors to the elevator shoot open, light spilling into the small area. A maintenance man and Mr. Morris stand out in the hall.
Chapter Eighteen
Dylan exhales and picks his things up from off the ground. He briskly walks out of the elevator without a word.
I follow, running a hand through my hair.
"How long were you two in there?" Mr. Morris asks.
"I don't know," I say. "Dylan pushed all the buttons so it must have jammed the system."
Mr. Morris rolls his eyes. "Dammit, I've told him to stop with that. Sorry about that, Katie."
I shrug. "It's all right."
Mr. Morris checks his watch. "I hate to do this to you, Katie, but do you mind working late tonight? I have two extra manuscripts that need to be edited by tomorrow--"
I nod. "Of course. I'll get started now."
I walk back to my workspace and sit down, shuffling my papers around. I see that Dylan has left already. Thank God. He's the absolute last person I want to see.
I'm flustered by Dylan's words to me. I am not pretentious. Though, I admit, it felt good to strike him that way. He deserved it after all the things he's said to me since we've met.
But did he mean all the things he said? Am I a snob? What do I do that makes him think that? Why would he judge me so quickly?
What did I ever do to Dylan to make him hate me?
The clock tells me it's four o'clock and I get to work. I text James asking if he can pick me up and he says yes. I'll get the chance to apologize to him for what I said and everything will be okay.
My red pen flies across the page. Mr. Morris checks up on me every so often and thanks me again for staying late. He says he'll run my file to Mr. Crane another day.
By eight o'clock, I've finished one manuscript and half of the second one. Mr. Morris thanks me again as I walk out the door.
I dial James's number. When I get his voicemail, I sigh.
The air is freezing cold and I wrap my jacket tighter around me. I don't see his car anywhere and my heart sinks when I realize he's probably not coming...again.
I really need to talk to James about this.
I shiver and sit on the bench. I won't cry this time. I begin to rethink my feelings for James. He forgets me all the time, and he barely makes time for me. Is he really at work? Or is he lying?
No, my mind snaps. He's not lying, why would he lie to you? He's busy at work.
I try his phone again and hang up when I get voicemail for the second time. Why is he forgetting me so much?
He doesn't treat you right, does he?
Though I hate to admit it, Dylan was right. James doesn't treat me right. I need to talk to him about that, or it's over.
At least it's not raining.
I look around. I don't see Dylan's car in the lot, either. I'm relieved and disappointed at the same time, although I don't know why. He's a jerk, and I want nothing to do with him.
He Looked Back Page 8
