A sharper vibration rattled the skirting. I didn’t like the pattern.
“We might want to lie down,” I said. “Would that be too weird?”
“Lie flat? Like—on thefloor?”
“It’s just precautionary,” I said. “Like putting a seat belt on before the plane takes off. Doesn’t mean anything bad is happening.”
She nodded, but her hands were trembling.
Another judder, louder this time. It sounded like it was right above us.
I reached for her arm. “Let’s lie down,” I said. If we were flat, we had the best chance of avoiding injury. Even better if she had some cushioning. The hoodie wasn’t going to cut it…
“I—” Her voice was canceled out by a scream of metal from above. We were out of time.
I pushed my arm between her back and the cold steel of the elevator wall just as the lift gave a terrible, decisivesnap. In a split second, I’d pulled her on top of me. The thin fabric of her dress bunched under my right arm, and her head dropped onto my shoulder. Her entire body was on top of mine, her mouth hot against my neck.
We were falling.
She gasped, her fingers fisting in the fabric of my T-shirt. I cradled the back of her head so she didn’t hit the panel, both arms wrapped around her. Then the weightlessness became less like floating and more like being pulled down, the pressure building. The air felt thicker, as if the lift was about to jerk back to reality.
The second stretched like an hour.
And then, with a bone-deep jolt, we slammed to a stop.
Pain shot through my back, but I didn’t let go. She was pressed fully against me, rigid, her face tucked beneath my jaw like she was trying to disappear.
Neither of us moved.
It was silent again.
Very slowly, she lifted her head, her nose brushing my collarbone.
“Is… is it done?” she whispered.
“I hope so,” I said. “I’m running out of vertebrae to crush.”
A shaky laugh escaped her. Now that we weren’t falling to our deaths, I became vividly aware of where her legs were. And her hands. And that my hand was still around her waist.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
She nodded. “You?”
“Ask me again when you’re not lying on top of me,” I said. “I might have a different answer.”
I’d pulled her close to protect her. That had been instinct.
I should probably let go now, but for some reason, I wasn’t ready to.
Chapter 4
Andrea
The car parkoffice smelled of coffee and onions. A half-eaten Cornish pasty sat on the desk, and a strip light buzzed overhead like a trapped wasp.
James:Oh my God, are you sure you’reokay?
Me:Fine. Can you let Geraldknow?
