Chapter 4: Elevator Awkwardness

Monday at the company, I unexpectedly ran into Eric in the elevator.

Because of that awkward night, I instinctively avoided his gaze, keeping my head down. My reflection in the polished metal doors looked pale and anxious.

But since we’d be running into each other often, I forced myself to look up and managed a stiff smile. I tried to act casual, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

Eric didn’t react much.

He just walked over and stood beside me, as cold as ever. He was in his usual black button-down, earphones dangling from his shirt collar, eyes forward.

Fine. The awkwardness was all mine.

Then, a big group squeezed in, and Eric was pressed up behind me. The elevator was packed, everyone clutching their coffee or backpacks. The building’s ancient air conditioning couldn’t keep up with all the bodies crammed together.

We were so close I could feel his body heat—and his scent.

He had a faint woody fragrance. I didn’t know what brand of cologne it was, but it smelled amazing. Like cedar and fresh laundry.

That night, I’d caught a whiff of it too. But I hadn’t thought much of it then.

Now, with his warm breath falling on the back of my neck, mingled with that familiar scent,

I instantly remembered everything from that night.

My face went hot, my hands suddenly clammy. I stared at the elevator floor, counting the seconds.

So useless. I cursed myself inwardly. Get a grip, Rachel. It was just an accident.

It was just a farce—it’s over. Why am I still hung up on it?

Eric seemed to sense my discomfort and shifted away. I heard him clear his throat quietly, putting more space between us as soon as someone exited on the third floor.

Once the crowd thinned and people got off, I could finally breathe. I darted out at my floor, not daring to look back.

When I reached my desk, I escaped as fast as I could. My hands trembled as I logged into my computer, trying to look busy.

Not long after I sat down at my desk, I got a message from Eric.

[Are you that afraid of me?]

I froze, not knowing how to reply.

Because of work, we’d added each other on Facebook Messenger, but hardly ever chatted. The last time was half a month ago, just to send a file.

Seeing I hadn’t replied, Eric sent another message:

[You’re the one who jumped me, remember? Why are you acting like I’m the big bad wolf?]

My face, which had just returned to normal, instantly turned red again. I hid behind my coffee mug, praying no one in the open office would notice.

[No, you misunderstood.]

[That night was really just an accident. I mistook you for Jason. If you mind, I apologize again.]

[Please, don’t take it to heart, I’m begging you. We see each other all the time—I don’t want things to be awkward every day.]

[Can we just pretend nothing happened? Please.]

I fired off a string of messages, then added a few pitiful crying emojis. I hovered over the keyboard, half-expecting him to screenshot and show Jason just to mess with me.

After a while, Eric replied, deadpan:

[I was just teasing you.]

[I didn’t take it to heart. You don’t need to either.]

I finally relaxed and quickly replied: [Okay.]