Forced Proximity
“If this doesn’t work out, I don’t know how many more dates I’m willing to endure,” I say as I wait in the lobby of an apartment building for my date.
This category requires imagination, but at least it’s doable. There’s a plan in place, and we’ll see how it goes. It’ll force us to get to know each other at the very least.
“Holly?”
My mouth goes dry as I see an absolutely beautiful man. Stunning, really. “Kyler?”
“It’s nice to meet you,” he says, shaking my hand. “Shall we?”
He offered to house us in the basement of the apartment building his sister manages. There’s a small living area she keeps for friends to stay, and it gives us an out if we’re completely incompatible but also offers comfort should we stay.
Stepping onto the elevator, I feel a flicker of hope that this app finally gave me a decent date. Up until now, every date has basically been a dumpster fire.
“So, what made you join the app?” I ask.
“To be honest, I have some self-esteem issues. I was a bit of a nerd in high school and didn’t really develop until my junior year of college. I was five-foot-four until I was eighteen, then shot up to six-one, but I was just skin and bones at that point.”
I glance at him as we stand shoulder to shoulder just as the doors shut. I think he’s developed just fine. He’s not a body builder, but he has nice biceps—the kind that look strong enough to hold me in certain positions.
Holly, stop! This isn’t just for sex.
Even as I tell myself that, I know I’m not going to put up much resistance. Sometimes, a girl just needs to be manhandled.
The elevator shakes and jolts, and I reach out to brace myself as I push my back into the corner, arms out with palms against the walls. Lights flicker a few times before going out completely, and a beeping fills the air. An emergency light turns on, but it’s very dim.
“Did you… arrange for this?” I ask, half-hoping he asked his sister to pull the emergency stop for realism’s sake.
The panic on Kyler’s face tells me he did not. In fact, it kills a bit of the appeal. He’s about forty seconds from a full-on panic attack.
“No.”
I pull out my phone and see a notification. “There’s a power outage,” I groan. “Looks like a truck hit a transformer or something.”
A voice crackles over the intercom. “Is someone in the elevator?”
“Lana, you have to get us out,” Kyler says, his voice a few octaves higher than before and cracking.
Great. He’s definitely in panic mode.
“I’m working on it, Kyler. Are you alone in there?”
“No, I’m with my date,” he says, his breath coming in heavy huffs like he’s a wolf about to blow down the three little pigs’ houses. “We’re going to run out of air.”
“No, you’re not. You’re just freaking out. I’m getting you out as soon as I can. Ky’s date, please help him stay calm until we get the doors open.”
The man I’d been considering letting take me to bed starts pacing the small space. I try to give him the benefit of the doubt. We all have things we’re terrified of. Maybe his is enclosed spaces.
“Why don’t we just talk?”
I sit on the floor, but he doesn’t join me. Instead, he continues in a circle. “About what?”
“Anything.”
“I’m claustrophobic.”
No kidding. “You don’t say.”
Letting out a long breath, he crouches down and hugs his knees. “We’re going to die in here.”
“No, we’re not. We’re between the main floor and the basement. Even if we dropped, it wouldn’t be a long fall. Relax… we’re fine.”
His eyes dart around like a cornered animal, and now I’m getting nervous. I’m not typically anxious in confined spaces, but with him, it’s impossible not to feed off of his energy.
“I was such a nerd in high school that my mom had to pay my second cousin to go with me to prom,” Kyler blurts out.
I blink at him. “What are you doing?”
“I need to confess things before I die.”
“First, I’m not a priest. And second, we’re not going to die. We’re just—”
“I paid her fifty bucks for a blowjob.”
And just like that, any option for sex, even months down the road, evaporate. “That’s… maybe too much confessing.”
“She took it and did it, then said if I gave her another fifty, she’d fuck me. We had sex in the back of the limo my parents paid for, and we never made it inside.”
I have nothing.
No response. No desire to attempt to console him anymore. Nothing about what he just said is anywhere near the realm of okay.
“We thought she was pregnant with my baby because I spent another five hundred dollars after that to get laid, but it turned out to be my other cousin’s baby.”
Now I have questions. “Your other cousin as in her brother? Or your other cousin as in he is a cousin to both of you?”
“Cousin to both of us.”
“She slept with multiple cousins? Like, her cousins?”
“She’s adopted, so there’s no blood relation,” he snaps. “Don’t make it incestuous.”
Too late for that. Also, still counts. Family. And clearly this isn’t the first time he’s had to justify this to someone. Probably himself.
“She’s still a member of your family, Kyler.”
“Second cousin. By adoption. It’s not the same. And she was pretty hot back then. Not so much now. She’s about two hundred pounds and five feet tall. But she still gives good head. Comes around when she’s strapped for cash for lottery tickets.”
Dear God, I need to get out of this elevator. I thank my lucky stars this came out before anything could potentially happen between us.
I shudder thinking that this will likely come out after he’s married to whomever he ends up with down the road. Happy family reunion. Divorce papers will likely be filed after that.
“Oh God!” he shouts.
“What now?”
The smell answers before he does, and I can’t stop the horror on my face as the wet spot on his jeans grows under the faint emergency light.
He’s peeing himself.
“I wish I could say this is the first time I’ve done this, but it’s not.”
“You know, some things might be better kept to yourself.”
His eyes widen as he stares in panic. “I have to take a shit.”
“You can hold it.”
He shakes his head. “No, I really can’t. I have IBS.”
“Kyler, it’s been less than fifteen minutes. Please do not poop in the elevator.”
How the hell am I having this conversation with a grown adult? This is something you talk about with a child. He’s a thirty-five-year-old man with zero impulse control across the board, it seems. Sleeping with his adopted second cousin or bodily functions.
“I’m so sorry.”
He yanks down his jeans, and the smell and sounds make me gag. I cover my mouth and nose with my shirt, attempting to mask the scent. I’m not very successful, and I’m seconds away from vomiting.
The elevator shifts, lifting to the main floor. The doors open, and I bolt out of there, not caring about the scene I’m leaving behind.
“Wait, you’re leaving?” Kyler calls after me. “We can take the stairs to the basement.”
I don’t even turn around. This takes the cake—worse than Thomas’s insults before stripping down. At least now I’ll have a new bad-date story to top all bad-date stories.
“I think it’s time to give up,” I mutter as I hurry down the sidewalk toward my apartment building. “There’s not one single date that makes it worth it. And I don’t see a light at the end of the tunnel.”
Damn it. I was so sure this app would bring me to my dream guy.