Though I'm scared also, I tell him to try to find the key somewhere on this dirty floor with that weird glowing thing he's holding while I try to use the light my phone does provide to search behind him.
To my relief, he says he has the main key but that doesn't solve our problem of getting out. We have to find the exit door and either: (1) Wait for someone to open the door or (2) wait for my stupid phone to be done updating so I can make a call for help.
It's already feeling like a win when we soon found the door. Finding my bent heels a bit stuck in the edges of it was another point for team: Lost & Scared.
I put on my heels while trying to ignore my leftover bitter feelings towards him when he offered his shoulder to balance on. I'll accept his shoulder just this once since I hate this cold, dirty floor.
"Um—this might be the wrong time to tell you this, but this is your surprise gift from Sera Elganza."
I look over from the door to the weird glowing object.
"Oh . . . thank you," I say, robotically since it's him giving me the present.
Taking the box with a present with a bit of a snatch, I don't even ask what it is. I'll save all my excitement and energy for when I see my coworkers on the other side of this damn thing.
Then a thought from the sweet side of me interrupted my growing agitation..
Don't you think it's sweet he came all the way down here knowing how scared he is of the dark?
I pushed the thought aside.
"Did you want to open it or . . ."
I gave him a glare though I knew he couldn't see it.
"It's too dark," I blankly stated.
"Oh . . . right."
It was just too damn awkward with all this tension and silence.
"My phone decided to update so—the only light we have is from this box and the little light my screen gives off."
Naturally, I look up when I start to talk and though I can't see his face, I know he's looking my way. I hate that I'm the only one that's chatty when it comes to these type of situations.
"We should really install more lights in here."
"Uh-huh."
"And clear these old files out."
"I agree. Will you be here for that project?"
I don't answer him.
"What's even in here?"
Then I stick the present on my hip on the same hand that holds my phone and reach for a file on a rack.
With both form of lights on my side, I'm able to make out the words (just barely) on these dusty papers. It's all boring company information from the business that was apparently here in the 1980s. I really can't believe all these papers are still down here and were not cleared out. The file loses my interest but then a small piece of paper in the shape of a heart peeks out.
"It looks like a–a love letter," I exclaim, to mainly myself.
"What," he laughs out. "No. It can't be."
His little laugh slightly pisses me off.
Of course you think that, I say in my head. Because you are incapable of the act of writing one.
"Yes, it is," I say, matter of factly. "Look."
My mistake for telling him that. He leans over and reads:
"Roses are red
Violet are blue
I'm writing I like you
Please return my feelings too."
I'm about to comment how sweet this is when Ennio decides to comment on how stupid that is.
"It's basic," he retorts.
"No, it's romantic. Something you lack."
Shit. I should have kept my mouth shut despite how I feel about him. My phone suddenly turns on, the flashlight returning, illuminating both our faces. I take in his chocolate brown eyes more than I like while he stares back at me. I can't read his face and immediately look away; turning the flashlight towards the door.
"I just think it would have been more romantic if the guy told his interest rather it being lost forever in here.
"So . . . Ennio, you'd rather tell someone directly than writelove letters? Sounds so romantic," I say with as much sarcasm I can squeeze in.
"Yes, for me personally," he responds back, like it's the obvious answer.
We accidentally locked eyes again and I hate the fact we can now properly see each other. I step away into the shadows for a break.
Damn this phone—turning off and on when it wants and at the worst moments.
"Well don't be too quick to judge, Ennio. Maybe there's an update on this guy's love life somewhere in here. Perhaps he had to write it in letters if it was a secret office romance."
I set aside my gift right beside me and put more old, dusty files between me and him. For me, it felt like a natural border even though Ennio was naturally close to me because of how dark it is around and I am the only one with a light source. I flipped after page after page but no more love letters; some hilarious ones in other folders I read out though. We both laughed at the crumbled up "threat of a letter" I found. Who would be fired over accidentally putting pickles on a takeout sandwich.
Him, my brain joked, as I started to look up.
He's staring—again and I can't help thinking two things in the moment: a.) He's giving you those eyes so you'll be tempted to stay with him forever as his secretary or b.) There's something else in those eyes that you're too scared to really think about because of how fast your heart is beating.
I begin to think about my undisclosed feeling but a sour taste enters my mouth when I remember the slap.
Checking my phone for a signal so I can make a call and get the hell out of here, I realize that there is indeed—no signal. Of course. I'm tempted to just call 911 and put all these thoughts into neutral zone when he whispers out:
"I like you saying my first name."
How he whispered it almost resets my brain. How could someone's voice sound so good by a whisper? It's a whisper for hell's sake!
"Oh . . . I'm just not used to saying it. So—don't expect me to use it all," I responded, trying to sound robotic again and thankful this darkness hides my blushing as I look away—yet again.
My body clocked it first before I could process it. His body was moving slowly forward and I didn't need the light to witness it. I could get my revenge by: a.) slapping him and blaming it on something stupid or b.) hit him with my knee and blame it on a sudden "shadow" I felt moving behind me. I stuck on both decisions. Honestly, both sounded great as I played back the slap in my head once again. But my thoughts of revenge came to a screeching stop when I found myself holding my breath. His lips are now gently touching the side of my face he had violently slapped just earlier this morning. At first, it's barely a touch but I feel him slowly move closer. I hate that I'm frozen still letting him do this. Because then he gradually deepens it. I should've have turned my face. Why the hell did I have to turn my face! My mouth accidentally brushed his and when I say "brushed", my whole being didn't even consider it a kiss. Oh, the horror if it did happen. But that little 'brush' gave him the encouragement to step up even more. His fingertips are just about to land on my face when—
"Oh my fucking gosh. I thought you two were dead in there," someone screams out as the metal door pulls open.