“I think we are stuck.” She says.
She’s right. We are. This lift has lodged between the 9th and 10th floors.
“That’s not ideal.” I say. “Should we press the alarm button?”
“Lets give it a second.” She says.
She’s pretty this girl. Really pretty. I was pleased when she got in the lift. In a way stuck in a lift, just the two of us should be some sort of dream scenario.
“I definitely think we are stuck.” She says.
She presses the alarm button. A shrill ding surrounds the lift and runs down the floors.
Silence. Should probably introduce myself. Make her know I’m not a rapist or something.
“I’m Kevin.” I say.
“Oh…hi. I’m Lisa,” She says.
We awkwardly shake hands.
Lisa. Pretty Lisa.
“Been stuck in a lift before?” I say.
I’m as rubbish talking to girls in odd situations as much as I am in natural ones.
“No.” She says with a laugh. “You?”
“Once actually yeah. With my Nan in Brighton. Stuck for about 15 minutes. So don’t worry, you are with a pro.” I say.
She does a nervous laugh. Turns away from me for a second. Probably rolling her eyes.
I might as well keep up this elevator pitch for love.
“Do you work here?” I ask.
“Yeah. On 15th floor.” She says.
“At American Airlines?” I say.
“Yep…sadly.” She says.
“That bad ay?” I say.
“That bad.” She says “You?”
“Well I was. Last day today, at the bank on the ground floor. Was just going up here to hand in my security pass.” I say.
“Well, you are certainly having a last day to remember. “ She says. “Why are you leaving? That’s too personal a question. Sorry. I’m really bad at that. My ex always told me I was too invasive.”
Ex? Invasive? This is interesting. Clever and single. Might as well use that line I always do when a girl mentions her ex boyfriend.
“Well, he sounds like a dickhead.” I say.
She laughs. Which is good. That line has been known to backfire.
“Yeah he was. A cheating bastard dickhead.” She says.
She looks at me for second. I think she just looked at me as a person for the first time. No longer just a background extra. Might as well answer her question.
“I’m moving back home. My mum is sick. Well she’s dying actually.” I say.
“Well that is just awful.” She says.
“It is. And I appreciate you not saying you are sorry. I’m sick of people saying that.” I say.
“Yeah, I hate that too.” She says. “Are you moving far?”
“Yeah, back down south. Boscombe. One of the worst places in England. It’s essentially a worse version of Bournemouth. Imagine that?” I say.
She looks a bit sad.
The lift then jolts into action.
“Oh, here we go.” She says.
The lift is soon at the 15th floor. The doors open.
She turns to me. I look at her.
“Bye then… Well good luck with everything Kevin.” She says as she steps out.
I should ask her number. Or kiss her. Or something. I should definitely do something. Say something.
The doors begin to close.
“Yeah, thanks, bye.” I say.
The doors close.