The Elevator
The Prompt:
She meets him when she’s already decided exactly what kind of person he is: arrogant, annoying, completely wrong for her. They’re stuck together for a short amount of time (a delayed flight, a broken elevator, a mutual friend’s event), and she slowly realises every assumption she made about him was wrong.
The Story
It was the same routine every day. They would exchange glances on the train, through the city and in the elevator to their separate offices, where they would click away at their desks before repeating it all in reverse once more. Two years of glances but not a word uttered.
She upheld her obligatory half-smiles each day as she exited the train. His lips had been plastered in a thin, unmoving horizon as he walked too quickly through the commuter traffic, like he judged anyone who was ever late.
She formed her opinion many moons ago: that he was made of ice, unmelted by the warmth of strangers and afraid of connection. If she was the sun, he was tucked away deep into the vacuum of space where no light could travel.
As they journeyed to their respective floors in the shaky elevator, she counted the seconds until he would depart; when the tension would melt off, and she could breathe without worrying if she were too loud in the echoey box.
Five… Four… Three. She counted in her head as the elevator rocked unusually.
Two… She hummed as it seemed to slow too early.
One… She thought as the doors didn’t open.
And then the lights went out with a loud thud.
She gripped the metal handrails and waited for her stomach to drop, expecting the adrenaline of a roller-coaster ride to overcome her stomach. Instead, the light flickered back on with a powerful blitz, but the elevator remained unmoving.
Her palms were sweaty and her breath heavy. Glancing toward the blonde-haired man, she could see that he, too, seemed to have envisioned the worst. His leather briefcase, which he usually carried with such pride, was cast aside on the floor, and his arrogant features seemed momentarily fractured. His brown eyes darted around in panic. His cheeks wrinkled.
“Whew.” He began through a shaky breath. “That’s one way to start your day.” His voice was deeper than she expected, like the cello of a symphony orchestra.
“Y-yeah.” She could barely get the words out.
He slipped into his blazer jacket and put on a thick pair of black glasses. She had never seen him wear them before. Something about the roundness softened his features. He waited patiently as he pressed the red call button that rested at the bottom of the elevator panel. It seemed like an eternity before the receiver answered, but when they did, he spoke calmly with the team on the other side.
“Hope you don’t mind bunking with me for a while.” He laughed.
“Oh… Uh… No, I don’t.” She had envisioned speaking with him for the first time, of breaking the ice, for so long. It was a rehearsed script in her mind, but she never prepared for the moment to actually come.
He shook her sweaty palm firmly. “The name’s Patrick.”
“Juliette.” She smiled.
Get 30 Minute Meet Cutes’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
“Pleasure.” He said as he slid down the wall and made himself comfortable. His demeanour disrupted her focus, and from the way he casually picked at his nails between the awkwardly long pauses, it was obvious he was sensing it, too.
“What is it you do here?” She asked in an act of bravery as she slid down the wall opposite him.
“Behavioural psychology.” He said. “And yourself?”
She had to steady herself. So, he was a body language expert.
“Software developer.” She commented with slight agitation in her voice.
“Sounds hard.” He took her verbal suggestion relatively quickly, and the air thickened once more.
She drummed her fingers on the floor, finding satisfaction in the way her acrylics echoed through the shared space. She knew the words she wanted to say. She kept playing them over in her head with different deliveries, unsure of which one to use. As the thought of the bottomless floor beneath her sank in, her fear chose for her.
“So, you spend your whole day analysing people.” It was quite forceful.
“When I am at work.” He replied.
The words left her mouth quickly, “What made you decide so soon that you hated me then?”
“Juliette?” He laughed nervously.
“I smiled every day.”
“Oh… Juliette.”
“And at first I thought you were shy.” Her hair became dishevelled as her expressions took over her body.
“Julie-”
“But you clearly aren’t.”
“Juliette.” He made his way over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder with a gentle squeeze. The sudden touch silenced her as though she were paralysed. “I can’t see anything but shapes two feet in front of me without my glasses. I thought you were looking behind me.”
“Oh.” She dropped her head into her hands.
“Oh no.” He chuckled. “So all this time-”
“Yes.” She interrupted as her face reddened.
The eruption of laughter that followed could have sent the elevator swinging through the sky. “Oh my.” He said as he slid his phone into her hand. “How about we start again?”
