"Tell me why you had a panic attack when you first realized we were trapped, Grace," I said softly, glancing over at her.
Her eyes flew to mine. She took another drink of water, clearly stalling and deciding whether she was going to answer me. After a minute she said softly, "My brother got diagnosed when he was eight. I was a year older than him. He fought for two years but when the doctors finally told my parents he was terminal, my mom kind of lost it, and my dad took on the burden of planning his funeral without her. She was literally emotionally incapable." She paused for a long time and I wondered if she'd continue, but finally she did, "My dad had to bring us girls to the funeral home with him a couple times because my mom couldn't even watch us. One time me and my sisters wandered off while my dad was talking to the funeral home director, and I don't even know why, but I climbed into one of the caskets while my sisters were looking at something else. I shut the lid and it latched into place and I couldn't open it. I panicked and started hyperventilating. I kept thinking something was touching my leg–a ghoul or the undead." She laughed a small laugh, shaking her head. But her face went serious very quickly. "But the place was so damn quiet, I was afraid to scream and make the noise it would have taken to get someone to open it for me. I didn't want to embarrass my dad. He was already barely holding on… And so I stayed in there until someone finally opened it on their own, looking for me."
"God, Grace. That must have been terrifying," I said quietly.
She looked up at me. "Honestly, I hadn't thought about it in years. But, I don't know, the thought of being stuck in a small space… I guess it just triggered that same feeling."
"Makes sense." I studied her pretty, serious face for a minute and then I smiled. "Plus, this time you had the added horror of knowing for sure that you were trapped with a demonic ghoul." I widened my eyes and did my best crazed-killer grimace.
She burst out laughing and I grinned at her, happy to see that faraway look of pain clear out of her expression.
After a minute, she raised her eyebrows. "I do believe you just got another secret out of me without having to sink a basket."
I smiled. "True. Okay, fair is fair–you get a freebie now too."
"Why do you call me Buttercup?" she asked.
I turned my head and when she turned her head to look at me, our faces were only inches apart.
I shrugged, looking into her eyes. I had told her a lot of personal stuff about myself, but for some reason, I felt like I needed to hold back now. "Maybe it's your hair," I said, glancing up at her blonde-ness. "Will you take it down for me?"
"My hair?" she whispered. "You want me to take it down for you?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
She hesitated for a minute but then her hand slid up to the back of her head and before I knew it, a mass of silky sunshine was cascading over her shoulders.
"Jesus, Buttercup. You're like an angel." I took a lock between my fingers. It felt as soft as it looked.
She smiled. "I…" Her voice trailed off as I leaned toward her. Her eyes widened, but she didn't move away, and just as our lips were about to touch, the elevator jolted and began to rise. We both pulled away from each other, her gasping in surprise. It was fixed. We were about to be set free. The only thing I could feel was disappointment.
CHAPTER 4
Grace
The jolt of the elevator brought me back to reality and I realized we were about to be set free. "Oh Thank God!" burst out of me as I stood up and grabbed my bag and stood at the doors, ready to jump out the minute they opened. I looked back at Carson and he was still sitting on the floor, unmoving, looking at me with a small frown on his face.
"Hey," I started, "didn't get enough time in here? Planning on staying?" I tilted my head and smiled.
He sighed and started to stand up just as the doors opened. I stepped through them, breathing deeply. "Ah fresh air!" I exclaimed. A man in a dark blue suit came toward me immediately. "Are you okay? We want to apologize for the inconvenience that our elevator malfunction caused you. If you'll come with me to the front desk, I'd like to comp your room for the weekend."
"Oh, um, it's okay. But, a comped room? Okay…" I said as he took my elbow and led me away. I glanced back and another man in a suit was talking to Carson, most likely apologizing to him as well and offering him a comped room. I'd see him at the front desk.
The man, Mr. Savard, led me to the check-in counter, and it only took a couple minutes for him to find my reservation and comp it on the computer. He also handed me a gift certificate to Picasso, a restaurant inside the hotel. He apologized profusely again, and I assured him we were fine and that it hadn't been that bad. We. Now where was the other half of that we? I stopped and looked around. He was nowhere to be seen at the front desk. I glanced around the lobby area and didn't see him there either. Did he refuse the comped room? If so, why would he just leave without even saying goodbye? My heart sped up. He had asked me to spend the weekend with him and I hadn't answered. I hadn't known what to say. I mean, it was just too crazy.
I had ended up liking him though, as unbelievable as that was. I would take that with me and consider the last couple of hours a good lesson about why not to judge a book by its cover. I shook my head slightly and walked back to the elevators.