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“It obviously had an effect on you.”
Her dark eyes bulged. “It most certainly didn’t.”
As I closed the gap between us, Gaby backed up until she bumped into the elevator doors. Staring down at her, my gaze focused on her swollen lips. “You kissed me back.”
“I-I did not.”
“Yeah, babe, you most certainly did.”
Jerking her chin at me indignantly, she countered, “Well, if I did, then it was under duress.”
With a grin, I replied, “Keep telling yourself that.”
After crossing her arms over her chest, she huffed, “Can we please change the subject?”
“Fine.”
“Thank you.”
"Have you always been claustrophobic?"
She bobbed her head. "Pretty much since I was five."
Cocking my brows at her, I asked, "What happened?"
"You really want to know?"
"Why not." With a wink, I added, "I'm kind of a captive audience at the moment."
She laughed. "I guess so."
“It didn’t have anything to do with growing up on a tour bus, did it?”
“Surprisingly not. Although sometimes it could be a tight squeeze, it wasn’t really that bad. It happened when I was five, and we were visiting my dad's family in Mexico. Some of my older cousins thought it would be funny to lock me in this pitch-black closet. All the adults were upstairs on the roof with a Mariachi band, so no one could hear me screaming for help.” A shudder ran through her. “I don’t know how long I ended up being stuck in there. When my dad finally opened the door, I couldn’t even speak from screaming so much.”
“Jesus, that’s horrible.”
“It was.”
“I can see why you were freaking out today. Do elevators always get to you?”
Shaking her head, Gaby replied, “No, it’s not really small spaces that trigger me but more of being stuck in them.”
“I get it.”
Shifting on her feet, Gaby sighed. “Ugh, these heels are killing me.”
I eased down onto the floor. “Might as well take a load off. There’s no telling how long we might be stuck here.”
Gaby eyed the floor before wrinkling her nose. “It doesn’t look very clean.”
Since I didn’t have a suit jacket to give her, I reached behind my head to pull off the shirt of my Kurta Pajama. Once it was off, I laid it down on the ground across from me. “There. Now you don’t have to worry about it.”
“But you’ll ruin your outfit.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s nothing a little dry cleaning won’t help.”
Keeping her eyes on mine, Gaby eased down on the shirt. “That was very kind of you.”
