In honor of the day of love, I thought I'd share the infamous elevator scene from A State of Gray (all good romances need an elevator scene). Enjoy!
(And if you like what you're reading, and don't have the book yet, check it out on Amazon.com, it's available on Paperback and Kindle!)
Also, obviously, spoiler alert.
...
Suddenly, the elevator comes to a shuddering stop, lurching me forward into him. I right myself as quickly as I can, but already my nose is filled with his scent, my body is tingling from the sudden contact.
Mr. Silver frowns as a soft beeping emits from the speaker in the ceiling. The lights behind the numbers flicker once or twice before the go out all together. Panic is spreading through me like a volcanic eruption. I feel like all the air has been sucked out of the room. I'm fumbling around in my backpack, searching for my pills when a voice crackles to life over the speaker.
“We're experiencing some trouble with the elevator,” says a raspy voice, “Please stay calm and we'll have you moving again momentarily.”
Stay calm my ass. I'm sliding down to the floor, downing a pill, dry heaving because my throat is so dry as it goes down, trying my hardest to keep it together and failing miserably. It's not because I'm trapped in an elevator. It's because I'm trapped in an elevator with him.
“Molly?” his deep voice makes me close my eyes as they roll back in my head, “Molly, calm down, it's not like it is in the movies, this sort of thing happens all the time.”
Life just throws it's storms at you.
He's squatting down next to me, his fingers gently brushing my arm. “Molly? Are you alright?”
Just sing through the storm, there's nothing I can do about it anyway.
His fingers grip my arm suddenly as he shakes me, not too gently. “Molly, open your eyes.”
There's a rainbow coming up soon.
My eyes pop open and my breathing slows down. I don't know if it's me or the medicine, but it's working. My heart rate slows to a nearly normal beat and the world stops swimming in front of me.
“I'm okay, I'm fine,” I say, sighing, “Sorry about that.”
“You claustrophobic?” he asks, sinking down to sit on the floor next to me.
I shudder. Yes, I am, but I'm choosing to not think about that right now. “Don't remind me.”
His lips lift in a tight smile. “So am I,” he admits. I suddenly notice the sweat droplets forming on his temples and his chest heaving with labored breaths.
“Take off you jacket, you'll feel better,” I suggest.
He eyes me funny, but follows orders. He slips his jacket off, undoes his tie, and unbuttons the top few buttons on his shirt. The white, patch of skin showing beneath his throat is far too tempting. I glance away.
He takes a deep breath and forcefully pushes it out. “That is a little better,” he says, “Thanks little sprite.”
I close my eyes as the nickname rattles around my skull like a bullet.
“You okay?” he places a hand on my bare thigh. I flinch at the alluring contact, tugging my dress further down to cover more skin. He doesn't move his hand.
“I'm fine,” I say, “I just told you that. I just want to get out of here.”
“Because you don't want to be here, or because you don't want to be here with me?”
I knew he was going to ask that. “Does it matter?” I ask. I'm picking at my bare nails. I never wear nail polish, the strong cleaners I use strip it off as soon as I put it on.
“I guess not,” he mutters, moving his hand back into his own lap.
The silence between us is nearly deafening. The lack of noise is pressing against my ear drums, sending a thrumming pain through my head. I wish he would say something. I wish there was elevator music. I wish there would be an explosion that would kill us both. Just something.
“So, you find a place to stay yet?” he asks abruptly, as if reading my mind.
Why did he have to ask that question? There's a million conversation starters, why did he have to pick that one? I'm sure he's fishing to see if I've moved in with Tommy or not.
“Yeah, I've been staying with Tommy's mom up until recently,” I say slowly.
He straightens his back, then leans back against the wall. “Where are you staying now?” he asks. It's like he's asking to be crushed.
“Tommy just got a house,” I say, “I'm moving in with him.”
I don't know what possesses me, but something forces me to look up into his deep, beautiful, dark eyes. I see what I thought I would, pain and betrayal. He wipes his face with his hand, glancing away from me.
“Good, I'm glad you have a place to stay,” he lies. I lean against the wall with him. Silence falls again.
“I asked Cynthia to marry me,” he blurts suddenly, shattering the silence. I don't know what I'm feeling; I should be feeling relief, but suddenly I'm blank and empty.
“Congratulations, did she say yes?” I ask. My voice sounds blank and hollow, matching how I feel.
Mr. Silver laughs bitterly. “Of course she did,” he says, “And she immediately asked me how to get a hold of you to ask you to be her maid of honor.”
I sigh. “That's Cynthia for you,” I mutter.
I turn to look at him, to say something else that you're supposed to say when someone is getting married, but I can't. He's staring at me, waiting, watching to see how I'll react. I don't know how to react, so I don't, I just stare into his dark eyes and wait for him to say something.
He doesn't say anything, he doesn't have to. I know what he's thinking. I'm thinking it too. I shift and slide back up the wall, my back grating painfully against the hand rail. He rises with me, I smooth down my dress and stare at the floor. He straightens his shoulders, staring straight ahead.
The seconds tick by, the air between us is swimming with tension. I want to say something, I want to be glad for him, but something won't let me.
“Molly,” his lips have barely parted with the word before I'm facing him, staring into his vivid eyes, my breath caught in my throat. He looks as tortured as I feel.
“Congratulations,” I say again, “Cynthia is lucky to have you.” I bite my lip, I shouldn't have said it like that.
His eyes fall to my lips, then slowly trail back up to my eyes again. His nostrils flare, he clenches his fists. I can't look away from him, some strange magnetism is drawing me towards him. It's like I'm not even in control of my own body when he's around.
The silence between us seems trivial next to the explosive warnings going off in my head. I know that look. It's the same look that's on my own face. It's the look you get when you're about to do something that you'll regret later. I hate this version of me, remember? I don't want to be this way, remember? I'm not-
And then his lips press into mine, his tongue slips into my mouth, his taste invades my body and I can't even breath anymore. Tears are stinging my eyes because I know I shouldn't, he's trembling because he knows we can't, but that doesn't stop my arms from wrapping around his neck as he pulls me closer to him in a passionate embrace. My chest is heaving from the burning desire building inside me, in spite of everything. His arms tighten, he feels the spark too.
The elevator shudders to life, breaking the spell. My brain slams back into my body and images of Tommy flood through me like a typhoon. I gasp and my hands fly up, shoving against his tight pecs. He resist for only a fraction of a second before he stumbles back, his brows knit together and his breath echoing through the elevator. Our eyes meet, he feels just as guilty as I do.
“Mr. Silver,” I don't know what else to say to him.
He doesn't say anything. What is there to say? He's trying to button his top button back, but his hands are trembling. It's all I can do to stop myself from crossing the elevator and helping him.
He stops trying as the elevator dings, letting us know that we're moving again. His hands falls dejectedly to his sides.
“What are we doing?”
...
Happy Valentines Day guys!!! Hope your day is full of Tommys and Mr. Silvers *exaggerated winky face*
Cheers!
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