Loathe at First Sight

by Suzanne Park

  He held up his hands like I was robbing him at gunpoint. “Nothing, I swear. I didn’t touch anything.”

  A few seconds later, the elevator whirring sounds from the shaft above us slowed to a halt. The bright overhead lights flicked off and on a few times, before converting into a dimmer mode. That’s when it hit me. The building power was out. Or maybe the elevator malfunctioned. Either way, it resulted in the worst outcome imaginable: Asher and I were stuck on this elevator together for god-only-knew-how-long.

  Then all these thoughts flooded my mind.

  What if the building evacuated and no one was here to rescue us?

  What if it was an earthquake and this danger goes way beyond this building?

  What if this was a REAL bomb threat?

  What if I die here, and Asher is the last guy I will ever see? Oh god, no. “Help!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “We need help!”

  Asher paced around the elevator, swishing his ripe bro smell throughout our seventy-square-foot space. Without power, there was no airflow. No oxygen. The walls closed in around me like a trash compactor.

  Above us, we could hear some muffled shouts and murmurs. Asher yelled, “We can’t hear what you’re saying!” The responses back were garbled and muted. He pulled out his cell, but he didn’t have a signal. He tried the emergency dial on the elevator panel, but it just kept ringing. Like a caged animal, Asher yelled “Ahhhhh!” as he pounded on all four walls, forcing me to retreat and cower to the far back corner. Deranged and wild-eyed, he ran up to the sealed doors and used his meaty Hulk hands to pry them open.

  “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” he chanted, willing the doors to move. Somehow, he was able to separate them, but just by a few inches. Through the opening, we could see a bunch of our coworkers’ legs and feet, as we were positioned a few feet down from our office floor. Asher tried to squeeze his body through the opening, but only his arm and leg could fit. Desperate now, I took a turn, only to find that my arm and leg were maybe the same size as Asher’s, which was especially depressing to think about given our entombed state.

  Asher pressed his face in the opening and yelled, “Someone call for help! I need to breathe!” Fresh air from our office floor pushed in, but because Asher was standing in the way, all I got was slightly cooler Asher-tainted air to inhale.

  A familiar voice outside the doors drew me to my feet. “Hey, is that Melody back there? I’ve been looking for her.” I had never been so happy to hear Nolan’s voice.

  “The fire department is on the way, Ash. Can you step aside so I can talk to Mel?”

  Asher shuffled over a few steps, and I walked up to the front.

  Nolan smiled. “Fancy seeing you here.” He stretched out his arm to grab my hand. “Are you okay?”

  I pressed my lips together and nodded, trying to fight my tears.

  We held hands. “Is there anything I can help you do today? I’m a freelance intern today. I can help you.”

  I mustered a smile. “You’d think the stripper cosplay was my hugest favor, but I really do need your help again.” Here I was, asking Nolan MacKenzie for yet another thing because everything in my life was falling apart at the seams. “I was supposed to present some slides at an investor call at one, going over the same numbers from the board meeting. You know them as well as I do, maybe even better. Can you present them and, if they ask, explain why I’m not there?” I looked at my watch. “It’s in five minutes in the executive conference room.”

  “Oh shit, I need to go then!” He saluted me and took off down the hallway, tucking his periwinkle-and-white windowpane-patterned shirt into his baggy khaki pants.

  Sue in HR squatted down a little in the doorway. “The firefighters are downstairs. They’re trying to figure out what happened and get you out of there.” She passed me two bottles of Gatorade and some SunChips. From deep in her pocket, she pulled out an almost-empty bottle of CBD capsules. “Can you give these to Asher? It’s cannabidiol. They help me with anxiety. He’s scaring everyone.”

  I’d been so preoccupied with my Nolan favor that I forgot Asher was behind me. Turning my head, I saw him pacing back and forth, tugging at his hair. Mumbling to himself. Falling apart right before my eyes. Note to self: never partner with Asher in an apocalypse situation.

  I tiptoed toward him, dangling the Gatorade, chips, and CBD. When he didn’t take them, I crouched down on the floor and placed them by his feet, then slowly backed away. “The firemen are here. We’re going to be free soon.”

  Moments later, we heard shouting just as the neighboring elevator dinged on arrival. A crew of firefighters streamed out. It appeared that only our elevator was broken. Lucky us.

  A flashlight beam streamed through the door, landing directly in my eyes. “Is anyone hurt?” he asked.

  I turned my head and squeezed my watery eyes shut. “Well, I’m blind now, but other than that I’m okay. Asher here is freaking out, but physically, he’s fine.”

  For nearly an hour, the elevator shaft filled with echoing sounds of banging, hammering, and electric drilling. Asher had taken two of Sue’s pills and had calmed down considerably. He stopped pacing. Same with the mumbling. His eyes stayed fixed on that door. As soon as it finally opened, I knew he would bulldoze me to get through it. None of that “ladies first” bullshit.

  “One. Two. Three!” Two sets of hands on each door panel pulled at the same time, forcing the part to widen enough for a body to pass through. Of course, Asher was the first to exit, pulling himself up onto the floor, stumbling directly to the men’s bathroom straight ahead.

  When it was my turn to exit, I whispered “Thank you” to the firefighters hoisting me up. Just past them, Nolan stood with his arms open wide, waiting for me. I collapsed into his arms, burying my face into his chest, silently shuddering and crying. He bent his head down and whispered, “Let me take you home. Let’s use the stairs. No more elevators today.”

  Gently tugging me along, he guided me toward the back stairwell leading to the parking garage, supporting me with his arm around my shoulder as we walked side by side down the hallway. With no mental energy to overthink anything, and with Nolan so close to me, I couldn’t focus on anything but him. His reassuring smile when I was inside the elevator. His warm embrace when I was freed. And now, with his body right up against mine, his firm hold around my body, all I could think about was how this was the best I’d felt in a long time. Nolan. Me. Together.

  He opened the stairwell door and waved for me to pass through first. I turned around to face him as the latch clicked.

  Neither of us moved down the steps. Our eyes locked and I took hesitant steps toward him. I meant to say thank you, but no words would come out. Instead, I put my hands on his chest and slid them up to his shoulders. My chin tilted upward and I stood on the balls of my feet so my mouth could meet his. Closing my eyes, I softly pressed my lips against his. Breathing hard, he ran his hands down my back and returned the kiss immediately, hungry for more.

  Passersby chattered by the stairwell door, discussing the elevator fiasco and whether my game would launch on time. Their verdict? No fucking way. The loudest voice belonged to Ian.

  Oh god. What was I doing here in the stairwell? There were no hours to spare in the day and because of the afternoon incident, I was a half day behind now. “I . . . I’m sorry. We can’t do this,” I muttered, dropping my hands to my side.

  “Wait, what? Why not?” He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

  “There’s too much going on at work. And you’re still sort of my intern, because you helped me out today. And I could get in trouble for this.” I wagged my index finger between the two of us. “You wouldn’t get fired, but I would.”

  Nolan’s phone and mine buzzed at the same time. Mine was a text from Kat: check your email.

  A companywide message from Ian . . . Because of Nolan MacKenzie going above and beyond today by filling in for his supervisor on the investor call, he’s being awarded this month’s Seventeen Studios
MVP award. Congratulations, Nolan!

  MVP awards came with a $500 Visa gift card and two free PTO days.

  “Congratulations, Nolan.” I sighed, trying to stifle any hostility in my voice. Yes, I was grateful he helped me out. Yes, he deserved it. But still, a little part of me was sad, maybe even angry, that I was never recognized for my work.

  He stammered, “I-I-I didn’t know this would happen . . . I—”

  I cut him off. “It’s fine.” Not really fine, but whatever. “I’d been meaning to tell you something. My friend Jane has a strategic analyst position that opened up at her company, and I think you’d be great at it.” I bit my lower lip. “If you got the job, you’d have to relocate to New York. But I think you should go for it, it’s a great opportunity. I’ll email you the info.”

  His brows knit together into a continuous, straight line. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Yes. Sent it. Now we’re even for you helping me with the investor call.” My stomach sank as soon as his phone buzzed with my message.

  He shrugged. “If you want me to apply, I will. Thanks for looking out for me.”

  I glanced down the stairs so he wouldn’t see the tears brimming in my eyes. “I’m okay to drive home by myself now. Thanks again for helping me today. I’ve got it from here.”

  Without waiting for his reaction, I clattered down the stairs, the metal steps echoing as the rubber soles from my boots hit each one with a thud.

  Once I got to my car, I had to sit there for a minute to steady myself. So much had happened that day. Mostly all bad, but I couldn’t shake my constant replays of that kiss between Nolan and me in my head. Or the second one. Somehow, Nolan could make all the negativity in my life melt away, even for a fleeting moment.

  Too bad it wouldn’t happen again.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jane messaged me the evening of her bachelorette party: Whoooooooo’s ready for the festivities? See you downstairs!

  Our limousine service would pick us up first and then we’d swing by Candace’s place. At dinner the prior weekend, Candace said unenthusiastically, “I look like I’m smuggling a fifteen-pound bag of weed under my shirt. Can’t I just stay home?”

  Jane was not having any of it. “Bishes, we’re all going in the limo. Platinum members get free champagne! Oops, sorry, Candace. I keep forgetting that you can’t drink. That’s more glasses for Mel and me, though!”

  Before heading down to the lobby to meet Jane, I puckered my lips and turned my head upward in the bathroom mirror. I’d successfully pulled off the cat-eye look, something that took years to finally accomplish. And with a little primer, foundation, concealer, and reflective powder action, you couldn’t even tell I’d been harboring all my sleep deprivation in the two deep hammock-size bags under my eyes! I’d even bought an antiaging eye cream with caffeine micropearls to perk up and stimulate my eye area and put that on for this special night. I’d need a chisel to remove all that makeup and face product later, but that wasn’t something to worry about yet.

  I grabbed my purse off the hall closet doorknob and stopped at the door. Did I need an umbrella, too? Seattleites never carried them and the only one in the closet was a golf umbrella with a honking Seventeen Studios logo on it. Nah.

  Jane stood under the awning, wearing a scarlet minidress and bling-blinding tiara. It wasn’t one of those cheesy plastic ones you got at Party City. It was more Miss-Universe-pageant-appropriate, intended to be coupled with a satin sash.

  “You look very regal tonight,” I said with a grin.

  She touched the top of her head to confirm her perfect crown was still placed on her perfectly blown-out hair. “Oh, this? It’s actually the headpiece that goes with my veil. I figured if I was spending over a thousand dollars on it, I might as well use it more than one night.”

  Yes. That was the fiscally sensible thing to do.

  She gave me a quick once-over. “Oh, that’s what you’re wearing?”

  I looked down. A cobalt V-neck sleeveless blouse with a black miniskirt, and a black sparkly shawl thing, plus dangly silver earrings thrown on as an afterthought. What did she mean?

  Our limo pulled up right in the front of our apartment building, as planned. Or rather, just as Jane had planned. No time to change clothes now!

  The chauffeur opened the back-passenger door for us. The interior, lined with plush white couches, also had a disco ball and multicolored lights that pulsed to the music. A fully stocked bar, along with a bizarre assortment of healthy snacks like quinoa chips and chickpea trail mix, at our disposal. Jane yelled over the music that she had asked for this custom assortment of treats because the VIP spread was usually “gross vending machine eats, like Chili Cheese Fritos and Grandma’s Sandwich Cookies.” Good lord, I would’ve binge eaten everything.

  She poured us some champagne and asked, “So what’s the plan tonight?,” as if she hadn’t arranged the entire itinerary a few weeks earlier and emailed it to me as “FYI.”

  8 P.M. Limo pickup (reservation under Jane’s name). Pop champagne.

  8:15 P.M. Candace pickup. Nonalcoholic drinks stocked in the back.

  8:30 P.M. Dinner + Drinks at Canteen Waterfront Bistro (reservation under Jane’s name).

  10:30 P.M. Dancing at Saturn (VIP list under Jane’s name).

  “We’re picking up Candace and heading to dinner,” I answered cheerfully, not wanting to be a downer about her neurotic plans. I’d never heard of Canteen, but given the shittiness of the organic snacks in the limo, I prayed to God that this wasn’t one of those overpriced hipster eateries where the chef infused the foods with flaxseed particles and wheatgrass flavonoids. Jane always knew all the hottest restaurants, but her tastes lately had skewed organic-local-vegan-holistic-raw-disgusting. She drank protein powder smoothies with ground-up collagen and chia seeds every morning. However, since this was her special single-woman-night-on-the-town celebration, I needed to comply with her culinary demands.

  We pulled up to Candace’s townhome in Capitol Hill at 8:15 on the dot (how did Jane know?) and she waddled down the stairs to join us. Her belly had gotten much bigger in just a few days. She looked stunning, with her radiant skin and thick mane of hair. I gave her a hug as she climbed inside, and our limo continued its journey to the restaurant.

  Candace tried to fasten her seat belt but it wouldn’t fit over her baby belly. “I guess they don’t have a belt extender,” she grumbled, yanking hard. It took all three of us to help her expand the belt to the maximum length and it barely fit over her midsection. But it did fit, which was most important.

  Candace and I chatted away about her baby. She squealed, “She’s the size of a large rutabaga, and I can feel her kick all the time now. My nausea’s fully gone, so I won’t be the first one to throw up tonight!”

  I admitted, “I don’t even know what a rutabaga is. It sounds like an old foreign car.”

  Laughing, Candace curved both hands and held them five inches apart. “It’s a root vegetable about this size.”

  I tried to bring Jane into our conversation, too, but she just wasn’t interested. She spent the entire ride powdering her nose, reapplying lipstick, and straightening her already perfectly placed tiara. When we arrived at Canteen, she was ready to be queen of the night.

  The host opened our door and greeted us with a warm smile.

  “Jane, party of three?” We nodded, and he ushered us through the foyer. “You’ve booked our private dining room. An excellent choice.” I accidentally snort-laughed. When service workers congratulated customers for selecting their services, it always made me snigger.

  Darkness had fallen outside, but the view from our private room was still spectacular. The moonlit water extended for miles, and the bobbing boats in the harbor filled me with wonder. I’d moved to Seattle three years earlier and questioned my decision so many times over the years, but this night showed how stunningly picturesque this city could be, even during the nonsummer months.

  Candace pointed d
ownward. “Whoa, look at that!” The view of Elliott Bay had diverted my attention and I hadn’t looked down at the dining room floor. Our table and chairs stood atop see-through plexiglass covering a maze of minirivers, where hundreds of exotic, brightly colored fish swam to and fro.

  “Oh my goodness, is that koi?” Jane jumped from her spot and landed above some coral reef.

  “They’re moving so fast! It’s hard to figure out the fish genus and species,” I said.

  Candace and Jane glanced at each other, and then they looked at me. “Oh my god, Mel. Who would have guessed you were a fish nerd? This may turn out to be the highlight of my evening!” Jane giggled.

  My muscles tensed as I tiptoed to the table. These fish darted around without being bothered by our looming presence, but I still didn’t like the idea of stepping so closely above them. It also made me self-conscious to walk on top of living things wearing a skirt. Sure, these fish weren’t capable of peering upward, but they could totally see my underwear if they flopped sideways. But maybe this was the champagne talking.

  Her Royal Highness Jane had ordered the wine ahead of time, and our dedicated waiter had poured out two glasses. “The red wine had time to breathe!” Jane said gleefully as we toasted to the evening. Candace raised her glass of sparkling grape juice.

  “Cheers!” We clinked glasses and, no pun intended, I drank like a fish.

  It took me a while to figure out why restaurant reviewers loved Canteen, because both the ambiance and the patrons looked so pretentious. The restaurant recommended sharing all items on the menu. Canteen’s culinary shtick was gourmet “mess hall food,” served in wooden bowls that you passed around to your tablemates. But even though it was family-style summer camp fare, that didn’t mean it was cheap. This place charged twenty-two dollars for a medium-size bowl of tater tots. The mac and cheese was double that price. The freezer aisle at the grocery store had the same thing for maybe six dollars, tops.

  Jane had already precalled in our dinner order. We continued drinking as we waited for the food to come out in installments.