HIM

26. Elevators and Secrets

ENNY'S P.O.V

I stand in the elevator next to Caleb as we awkwardly watch the numbers climb to floor 27 of the apartment building. The silence fills the small space in such a way that I want to do one of those stunts like in the movies where they climb out of the elevator.

"Why doesn't this elevator play music?" I ask, thinking about how there's lots of talk of elevator music, but I've never actually heard any.

"Good question," Caleb says, fiddling with his fingers. "I'm not really sure if any elevators play music. I mean, I'm sure there are some that do, but I've never heard any in this one."

I nod my head slowly, not really sure what else to say. I've never been good at the whole small talk thing and filling in the gaps between conversations. Sure, I absolutely hate awkward silences, but I also absolutely hate trying to make small talk. If you ask me, it kind of makes the situation worse.

The elevator creaks, making an awful screeching sound that makes me wince. One of my biggest pet peeves is nails on a chalkboard, and this sound it coming pretty close to that sound. I look to Caleb, his posture tense, as per-usual. He glances around, not that there's really anything to see since the sound seems as if it's coming from outside the elevator. The screeching ceases, and I breathe out a sigh of relief, but no sooner do I exhale does the elevator come to an abrupt halt, sending me tumbling to the floor.

My ankle slightly in pain, I look to see if Caleb's okay. He seems to be fine, also sprawled out on the floor of the elevator. I've seen stuff in movies where the elevator kind of just comes to a stop, but that was like...a hard stop.

"Oh, fuck." Caleb mutters under his breath, standing up and walking to the buttons. He immediately goes for the bright red one with a bell printed in white ink on it. He presses it, talking into the speaker. "uh--hello?"

He releases the button, waiting, listening for some sort of reply. There's some static, and then a voice. "Yes?"

"Oh gosh, yes! Hi, I am stuck in the elevator with my...friend...a-and we need some help." He lets go of the button again.

"Okay, maintenance will be there within the next 2 hours. Sorry for the wait, but there was a massive pipe burst on floor 15 and somebody broke a window on the third floor. We've got our hands full, but I'll let the guys know. It might be a while. Please sit tight. Thanks for your patience." The man on the other end of the...line?...says.

Caleb huffs in frustration, running his hand through his brown hair. "Amanda is literally going to murder me."

"Why?" I ask him, unsure of why he has a curfew he needs to be home by.

He glances over at me, his hand still on his head. He drops it down by his side. "Clingy."

"Ah," I say, nodding my head in understanding. "I see. Come sit." I pat the area of the elevator next to me, glad that this elevator is as spacious as it is. I'm slightly claustrophobic, but not so bad that I would have a panic attack. "You look like you could use somebody to talk to."

He's reluctant at first to join me on the floor, but eventually makes his way over, lowering himself onto the carpet. "What do you want to talk about?" He asks me.

"The better question is, what do you want to talk about?" I raise an eyebrow at him because I can tell that there is something that he's holding back. Or maybe not, I just have this feeling that he's being really closed off.

Oh, right. It's because we barely know each other. Ha, how could I forget?

He looks at me, a confused expression on his face. "how do you do that?"

"Do what?" I ask, feeling slightly self-conscious under his gaze.

"Always know exactly what I'm thinking. Or in this case, what I'm not saying."

I shrug. "Uh, I honestly don't know. I kinda just had this...feeling...?"

He chuckles and shakes his head. "There is something I haven't told you, but I just don't..." He pauses, picking at a cuticle on his thumb. "I don't know if you'd trust me if I told you," he looks at me. "Which is why I haven't said anything because I'm afraid that you'll think I'm a jerk who's just making up stories."

I bite my lip, thinking through what he's just said. "Is it something about my past?"

He nods his head, avoiding eye contact.

"Is it something potentially...dangerous?"

He continues to pick at the cuticle. "I...I don't really know the answer to that one, to be honest. It could be, but it could not be. It's hard to tell."

"Okay..." I say. "Could you give any more...details?"

He scratches the back of his neck. "Like I said before, you're going to hate me if I do. And I really don't want you to hate me again, it's just not something that I could--"

I stop him. "Again?" I ask. "What do you mean, again? Did I hate you ever? I thought we were best friends."

He looks at me, some sort of pain in his eyes. "You hated me real bad for about 2 years. Did I ever mention that?" he asks, but then hold up a finger. "No wait, I mentioned that you moved out about 2-ish...maybe 3 years ago....and that's why."

I place a hand on his shoulder, feeling sorry for him because of the sorrow that I can see in his eyes. "What happened?" When he starts to shake his head, unwilling to tell me, I continue. "C'mon. You can tell me. I swear I won't hate you. The fact that you're so reluctant to tell me this information makes me seriously feel like you're going to be telling the truth when you say whatever you have to say. Don't try to 'protect' me from my past. I'm a grown woman, I can deal with it."

"And if you do hate me?" He asks.

"I won't."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Okay...well," He begins, swallowing hard. "Henry happened."

A/n:

Woah, look at this, a midweek update! I guess I had some time on my hands tonight! I realized all of these chapters are really short, so I'm gonna try to update more ofter.

Have a great week!
<3 Meg