Page 14 of 6 Clues Your Nemesis Loves You

I look at her, trying to focus on the freckles decorating her nose. “We’re gonna die.”

“We’re not gonna die.”

“I can’t breathe.”

“You can and you are. What you won’t do is keep hitting those buttons. This elevator is ancient. You stalled the damn thing.”

I glance around wildly. I swear the walls are closer. “We’re stuck.”

“Yeah, Sherlock.” Her voice gentles, her grip on my arms loosening. “But it won’t be long. Happens occasionally. I hit the alarm. Assuming Doug isn’t on lunch, we should be out of here in five minutes.”

“Doug might be on lunch?” Yep, I’m whining.

“It’s a possibility.”

“We’re gonna die in here,” I murmur again, gulping in breaths.

My body turns heavy. I have no choice but to lower to the floor. I start on all fours, then push back into child’s pose. (Yes, I’ve taken yoga. No, that doesn’t make me a hipster.) I cradle my head with my shaky hands, focus on filling my lungs. I’m aware enough to know I’m embarrassing the shit out of myself. Any hope I had of convincing Maggie I’m cooler than her wet-noodle boyfriend leaks out with each of my wheezy exhales.

A loud sigh carries from above me. Next thing I know, Maggie’s tugging at my shoulders, guiding me to move. She’s on the floor, her high heels kicked off, her legs folded under her. Gently, she pulls my head down to her lap. Her fingers slip into my hair, stroking the sweaty strands from my forehead. My tension unwinds a fraction. She digs her fingers deeper, tunneling through my wavy hair, dragging her nails over my scalp, trailing them down my neck and starting over.

Now I have a hard-on.

Seriously. My body doesn’t know which way is up. I’m at death’s door, struggling to breathe and turned on at the same time.

I open my eyes, unsure if this is a nightmare or a fantasy.

The compassion on Maggie’s face indicates somewhere in between. “If you’re still scared of tight spaces, why did you come in here?”

I could lie. Take the easy path. Get through this torture and deal with my Maggie history another day, but I followed her for a reason.

She keeps stroking my hair. I nuzzle into her lap, letting her fingers soothe me. “I came in here because you were in here.”

Her hand stills. Just a beat. Then she’s stroking again, slower this time. When she traces my ear, I shiver. “Only you, Lennon Bower.”

“Only me, what?”

When her fingers graze my beard, my hard-on gets harder. “Nothing.”

Nope. Not okay. This elevator stalled for a reason. I may have been jabbing the buttons like a coked-up lab monkey, but for the first time in eleven years, I have Maggie alone.

“Our last night together,” I say, keeping my focus on her. Not the walls. Not our situation. Maggie and her gorgeous green eyes. “I did something you didn’t like, and I’ve been upset about it ever since.”

“No.” She shakes her head vehemently. “I—”

“Maggie, can you please just let me apologize? I mean, I’ve never crossed a boundary with a woman. I’ve never pushed if they said no. I would never do that. We were just so in the moment and you were so gorgeous out there, and I…” I give my head a shake, not getting my words out right.

“Lennon.” She gives my neck a light pinch. “When I said no just now, I wasn’t trying to shut you up. I meant no, you didn’t do anything I didn’t like. Whatever you’ve been stressing about the past eleven years, you have it wrong.”

I blink and frown. Her words don’t make sense. I’ve replayed that night ad nauseam. All our nights, reliving them in hopes of remembering how alive I once felt, always finishing on our last evening together. The sharp ache in my chest as Maggie ran away from me, furious and upset. Or did I get it all wrong?

chapter five

After my first night with Maggie, walking into the water fully clothed, I wanted her. It’s a deep emotion, wanting. Wanting consumes your thoughts, wiggles into the cracks of time where you normally hum or walk or move without thought. Suddenly, I was thinking all the time, curious, wanting more of Maggie. More time. More glimpses of her mischievous smile. I wanted to shock her again and again, put that indignant blush on her cheeks.

I began showing up at her pond most evenings, wearing a bathing suit, ready to take a running leap into the water. Maggie didn’t disappoint. She’d already be there, clad in her tiny bikini, doing lazy strokes on her back, lit by her twinkle lights above.

A few weeks into our secret meetings, she looked up at me as I stepped into view and beamed so brightly my heart squeezed. “There’s my favorite creep.”