Chapter 6
6
Turning up for my date with my heart fluttering in that nervous-excited way is not something that I’m used to. Sure, sometimes I get first-date anxiety, but this is different. This is the kind of feeling that you only get before a second date, and only when the first date was really fucking good.
Ethan’s already there, waiting for me, leaning casually against a lamp post. He looks effortlessly handsome in dark jeans and a white shirt. His smile widens when he spots me, and I feel this warm, happy glow spread through me. It’s weird because even though I’m nervous, I’m so relaxed too – like just being around him makes everything better.
Honestly, I can hear myself, and I’m stunned. This isn’t me talking. I don’t say things like this.
‘Hey,’ he says, stepping forward to greet me, giving me a peck on the lips. ‘You look amazing.’
‘So do you,’ I reply, feeling almost shy to be in his eyeline, but also loving every second of it.
We start walking together, and I notice he’s leading me away from the usual bars and restaurants.
‘Where are we going?’ I ask, glancing up at him.
‘You’ll see,’ he says with a smile. ‘I thought you might appreciate something different.’
We round a corner, and I see a sign that reads ‘Dying to Escape’. I can’t help but smile to myself. He’s brought me to an escape room? That’s the kind of dorky date that you go on with someone when you’re comfortable with them.
So he isn’t just looking to get me drunk and take me back to his room again – which is what I would expect of any man, to be honest – he’s actually put thought into this.
‘I love it,’ I say, genuinely impressed.
‘I’m glad you think so,’ he replies, holding the door open for me. ‘Because we’re about to be locked into it.’
Inside, the place has a sort of eerie yet exciting vibe. Dim lighting, mysterious music playing softly in the background, and a front desk cluttered with old books, items of evidence, and plastic severed limbs.
The host, a middle-aged man with a friendly smile, greets us and explains the rules.
‘It’s a murder-mystery escape room,’ he says, adjusting his glasses. ‘I’ll be watching you on cameras, and I can give you hints if you get stuck. Don’t worry, you’re not actually locked in, but the goal is to follow the clues and escape within an hour. Think you’re up for the challenge?’
Ethan and I exchange a look. I’ve never done an escape room before but I’m actually really excited.
‘Let’s do it,’ I say, sounding confident but actually having little faith in my ability to escape. Ethan laughs – his voice so low, sexy – it sends a shiver down my spine. Hopefully it just seems like I’m really into the murder mystery.
We’re led into the room and it’s like stepping into a video game. The walls are lined with bookshelves, there’s an old-fashioned desk in one corner, a fireplace in another, and various items scattered around – a typewriter, an ornate box with a combination lock, and a large, ominous-looking painting hanging above the mantelpiece. Oh, and then there is the serial-killer-style wall of photos, letters, receipts and even a lock of hair.
I take a breath, taking it all in.
‘Wow,’ I blurt.
‘Okay, I’ll leave you to it,’ the host says. ‘Your hour starts now.’
And then it’s just us.
‘I don’t even know where to begin,’ I say, twirling around on the spot.
Ethan chuckles, moving closer to me as we start to look around.
‘I know where to start: by telling you that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since last night,’ he says, his voice just loud enough for me to hear. ‘It was amazing. You’re amazing. I’ve had that image of you in my shower all day, the way you felt – I feel like I can still taste you on my lips…’
His words make me feel dizzy.
‘I—’
Before I can say anything more, a voice crackles over the speaker, awkwardly interrupting. ‘Uh, just a reminder – I can hear you as well as see you,’ the host tells us.
Ethan and I burst out laughing, the tension breaking for a moment.
‘Good to know now,’ Ethan says, grinning at the camera, giving the host the thumbs up. ‘Wish I’d known earlier.’
I laugh as we get back to searching for clues, but the sexual tension between us is almost overwhelming. It’s like we’re in the build-up, seeing how long we can last before giving in to the pull that’s constantly drawing us together. It makes everything so much more difficult but we do what we came here to do, and look for clues, opening lock after lock, piecing it all together.
Ethan brushes past me, his body pressing briefly against the back of mine as he reaches for a locked box on the sideboard. The familiar physical contact sends a jolt of electricity through me, and I have to bite my lip to keep from reacting too visibly.
‘I’m in,’ he says, triumphantly entering the numbers we’ve been collecting into the combination lock. It clicks open, revealing a handle – the final piece we need to escape the room.
‘Good work, detective,’ I tell him.
‘Thanks,’ he replies. ‘Fancy grabbing a drink with a genuine hero?’
‘Sure,’ I say as I watch him fuss with the door we’re supposed to leave through.
He has the handle in place but it doesn’t budge.
Ethan frowns, trying the handle again, but it’s definitely stuck.
‘Let’s just go out of the door we came in through,’ he says. ‘We know we did it.’
Would you believe it, that door is stuck too – what the hell is going on? We exchange puzzled looks for a moment before Ethan tries something else.
‘Erm, I think we’ve got a problem,’ Ethan says, looking up at the camera. ‘Both doors are stuck.’
‘I’ll sort it out. Don’t panic,’ the host says, his voice calm – but it’s oddly hard to keep calm when someone says ‘don’t panic’.
While we’re waiting, Ethan silently takes my hand, his grip firm yet gentle, and pulls me to one side. Before I know it, I’m pressed up against the wall, his body close to mine, his lips hovering near my ear.
‘This is a CCTV blind spot,’ he whispers, his voice sending shivers all through my body.
I barely have time to process his words before he’s kissing me, slow and deep, like he’s savouring every second. My hands slide up to his shoulders, pulling him closer, and for a moment, I forget about everything else – including the host who is currently trying to barge his way through one of the jammed doors. I don’t care, the world outside the escape room doesn’t exist – all I’m interested in is him, here, now.
You know what, I don’t care if these doors stay locked all night (ideally if they turn the cameras off, but if they can’t be turned off I still don’t think I could promise I would behave myself). I’m perfectly happy where I am.