Chapter Twenty-Two #2
I shrug. It’s hard to tell when his face is buried in his hands. ‘I don’t know. Late twenties?’ I’ve lowered my voice, but I don’t think Lawrence is paying me much attention anyway. He’s too busy quietly freaking out.
‘And is he good-looking?’
My mouth drops open and I’m silent for a moment while I try to process what’s going on here. ‘Are you wanting to hook up with the poor bloke I’m trapped in here with? Because I don’t think he’s in the mood.’ Poor Lawrence is starting to whimper as he rocks.
‘Oh my goat, Christina. You really are dense sometimes.’
I gasp. The cheek! I am not dense.
‘You’re stuck in a lift with a lone male who may or may not be attractive, who is in your datable age range. Christina.’ There’s a note of exasperation as Jonah says my name. ‘This is a meet-cute.’
I look across at Lawrence, the man I’m stuck in a lift with.
I am dense sometimes.
Because this is quite clearly a meet-cute.
I’ve been so focused on being stuck in a lift that it’s taken me off-guard.
‘I thought you didn’t believe in my meet-cute wish?’
‘I don’t. It’s ridiculous. Wishes don’t come true.
’ Jonah sighs. ‘But it’s becoming increasingly difficult to deny that you’ve had quite a lot of them since you made that wish.
And this one? This one is big. It isn’t someone tripping and spilling a drink over you – which isn’t unheard of when you work in a bar.
This is getting stuck in a lift with a handsome stranger. He is handsome, isn’t he?’
‘I guess.’ At least, he would be if he wasn’t currently sliding into the foetal position on the ground while emitting a low wail.
‘This is the ultimate meet-cute scenario.’
‘But what about Kit?’ I know we only had the briefest of encounters, but I can’t get him out of my head. I felt something that night. Something real. ‘If the universe sent me into his path and he’s The One, why are they still giving me meet-cutes?’
‘Maybe he isn’t The One? Maybe there are options other than Kit?’
Other options? Like the guy who is currently whimpering on the floor as sweat oozes from his forehead. I’m not sure it’s an option I want to take up. Still, I can’t leave the poor guy freaking out on the floor.
‘I think I’m all right now, Jo-Jo, but I’ll call you when I’m free, okay?’ After saying goodbye and hanging up, I slip my phone in my bag and shuffle over to Lawrence, placing a hand on his back.
‘Hey. How are you doing?’ It’s a daft question – he’s clearly not doing great – but I’m at a loss as to what else to say.
‘I hate this.’ He peeks up at me. ‘I hate small spaces. I hate being trapped.’
‘It’s not the best way to spend the afternoon, is it? I hope it doesn’t take long to get out – I’m supposed to be starting work in a couple of hours.’
‘What do you do?’ Lawrence is still foetal-positioning on the floor, but at least his face has started to relax as we chat.
‘I’m a shift manager of a bar.’
‘I did bar work for a bit.’ Lawrence pushes himself up so he’s sitting cross-legged. ‘It was hard work.’
I shrug. ‘But fun too. No two shifts are the same. What do you do now?’
‘I work in a bank. Not like the big-money type of banker. I work in customer service for a high-street bank.’
I hope there’s never an armed robbery at the bank while Lawrence is on duty, because he’d crumble under the stress. Probably end up getting done in while making a dash for the door. But he does seem to be doing better now we’re chatting. He’s sweating less and the lack of rocking is a relief.
‘Hello? Christina? Lawrence?’ The voice over the intercom startles me, but I recover and jump to my feet, heading for the control panel.
‘Hi, Christina here.’ I cringe as I hear the formality of my response, but the voice is undeterred.
‘Hello, Christina. The engineer is now onsite and will begin working on getting you moving again. Don’t be alarmed by any sudden movements.’
Lawrence takes no notice of the voice’s instructions and begins to flap. Literally. His hands flap in front of his face as he emits a wounded animal sound.
‘Lawrence, it’s fine.’ I kneel next to him and take his hands in mine.
‘They’re going to get us out, safely, okay?
’ I hold Lawrence’s gaze until he nods, his tensed body starting to relax.
We need to get chatting again, to take his mind off whatever the engineer is doing.
‘So. Lawrence. What do you dream of doing if we ever get out of this lift?’
Lawrence’s eyes widen and he squeezes my hands with a painful grip. ‘What do you mean if? Do you think we won’t?’
‘No, of course not.’ Jonah was right about me being dense sometimes, and I could kick myself for sending Lawrence into a panic again. ‘It’s just a thing they do in You’ve Got Mail. Have you seen it?’
Lawrence shakes his head.
‘Well, Joe, one of the main characters, gets stuck in a lift.’ I raise my hands, palms up, to demonstrate our shared predicament. ‘And he and the people he’s stuck with share what they’d do if they ever got rescued. So, what would – will – you do when we get out of here?’
‘I’m going to send a strongly worded letter to the shopping centre after this ordeal is over.’ Lawrence folds his arms across his chest. ‘There must be some compensation in this.’
I know what I’m going to do, and it has nothing to do with compensation. I’m buying myself the biggest bag of pickled onion Monster Munch I can find and I’m inhaling them before my shift.
The lift shudders again before it starts to descend.
Lawrence yelps, even though we’re moving at a normal, gentle pace rather than crashing to our deaths.
The lift stops and there’s a pause before the doors swish open.
Lawrence scrabbles onto all fours and crawls out onto the concourse, gasping for breath as he passes the bemused engineer.
‘All good?’ The engineer quirks an eyebrow as Lawrence rests his forehead on the ground.
‘All good.’ I gather up my bags and step out of the lift. ‘Thank you so much.’
‘No worries.’ The engineer doffs an imaginary hat. ‘I’m always happy to help a damsel in distress.’ We both look down at Lawrence, who is very much in distress, before he points at the lift. ‘All should be in working order now.’
‘I am not getting back in that death trap.’ Lawrence pushes himself up to his feet, swiping a hand across his grubby forehead. ‘I’ll be taking the stairs. Much safer.’
I shift the weight of the bags in my hands. ‘I think I’ll take the stairs as well.’ The thought of stepping back in the lift is leaving me a bit wobbly, and it’s only one floor down to the car park.
‘Do you need a hand?’ The engineer nods at my shopping. ‘We’ll pop those in your boot, and I’ll take you for a drink. Settle your nerves.’
I open my mouth to respond but Lawrence gets in there first, stepping into the gap between us and puffing his chest up at the engineer.
‘Excuse me, but if anybody should be taking this young lady out for a drink, it is me.’ He turns to me now, tilting his chin upwards.
‘You were wonderful in there. I can’t thank you enough for keeping me from losing my mind.
So.’ He holds his arm out for me to take. ‘How about that drink?’
‘Er, excuse me, but I asked her first.’ The engineer pulls his chin back, absolutely outraged that Lawrence would try to steal his drinks offer.
‘And I was here first.’ Lawrence is equally outraged, straightening up to his full height. ‘So I get first dibs.’
First dibs? First dibs? I open my mouth, but no words emerge.
I have none. I am mute with rage and with frustration.
I am thoroughly fed up, of this shopping trip, of this lift fiasco, and of these bloody meet-cutes.
I don’t bother to decline either invitation and simply march away.
This has to stop, so I’m going to arrange yet another night out with my friends to Piano Quays on Friday, because I cannot go through this again.
If there’s a chance Kit is The One, the universe needs to know I’m doing my best to find him.