The elevator felt smaller than usual with the two of us inside. It began it's downward glide, then the lights flickered. We shuddered to a halt. Both of us jerked our heads to the digital display, but the floor number didn’t budge.

Owen reacted first, reaching across me to jab his finger into the ground floor button a few times. Nothing happened. He let out a quick sigh and pressed down on the call button.

It began to beep, and I finally snuck a look at the side of his face. His jaw was tight, and the strong plane of his cheekbone was accentuated by a grim frown.

“Building services?” The call connected.

“The lift has stopped. Number…” He glanced down at the panel, “…three.”

“I can see you,” said the operator briskly, “we’re sending a technician. Should be twenty minutes.”

The call ended, and I looked down at my phone. It was half past six. I took a slow breath in.

“Looks we might be late to the dinner.” I offered weakly. Twenty minutes. Nineteen now, right?

He looked at me briefly, before pulling his phone from his pocket. “It’s not a problem.” He tapped out a message and thumbed the screen off. Then he leaned back against the side wall and crossed his ankles.

“Um, okay.” I bounced forward on the balls of my feet.

He gave a soft snort. “You don’t get claustrophobic, I hope?”

“Me? Nope.” My voice came out a little squeaky. It’s the truth, I told myself sternly. Being stuck in a small room wasn’t a problem for me. The fact that the room was suspended above a twenty storey void though… I tipped my head back to look at the ceiling.

I pursed my lips and blew out gently. From the corner of my eye, I saw Owen straighten up, He wore a concerned frown.

“Hey, what I said just now—”

“It’s fine. Really.” I tapped each fingertip to my thumb and tried not to think of the long, dark drop beneath my feet. Why did it have to happen in front of this guy?

He leaned towards me and for a moment, I thought he was going to wrap me in a hug. But his outstretched hand reached past me for the call button.

“Hello? Can we have an update on elevator three, please?”

There was a burst of hold music, and then the voice came back. “They’re on their way. Is everything alright?”

Owen cocked an enquiring eyebrow at me. I gave a shaky shrug. What could they do, anyway?

“Fine, just a little anxious.” he replied.

“I get it. Is there someone you can call? Sometimes chatting can help the time go faster.”

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “Thanks, I’ll be okay.”

The call went silent, and he retreated to the side wall. But this time he looked straight at me.

“How long have you lived in Thunderbolt Springs?” He asked abruptly.

“Uh,” my brain was not ready for the question, “since I was ten, I guess.”

“What about your family?”

“My Dad lives there. My sister’s here in Sydney.”

“I see.”

Silence fell. I bit my lip, trying not to check the time.

“How about you?” I asked.

Of course I needed distraction, but I might not get this chance again. Owen was intriguing. What was his life like? Rich people only existed on television, and in my imagination. There must be mansions and yachts and stuff. He could give me inspiration for my next episode of ‘Braith Brewster, Eligible Bachelor.’

If only I wasn’t freaking out about the death plunge beneath me.

He sighed. It was a surprisingly soft sound, and I looked up into his complicated expression.

“My family’s from far away—”

The elevator lurched. In a sickening moment, I felt freefall, then it braked with a bang. My legs crumpled beneath me but before I could hit the floor, I was enveloped in a warm embrace.

My nose smacked Owen’s shoulder and I hung there, half supported, half crouching while the pain in my nose blossomed and faded. He cleared his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbed right in front of my eyes. For a minute I forgot where we were.

“Sorry about that!” A voice called from outside, “we’ll have you out in a jiffy!”

I staggered back and leaned against the wall. My heart was bouncing around like a pinball. Owen was staring fixedly at the door, as though poised to spring out. His ears looked a tiny bit red.

“Ahem,” he cleared his throat again and raised his voice to respond, “good to know.”

God, it was hot in here. Did the A/C go out?

The doors cracked open and a gloved hand forced them back with a screech. Outside, the lobby lights gleamed like hope.

Owen pressed a hand gently to my back, and I darted through the door like the lift was on fire. He followed more slowly and turned to have a quiet talk with the technician. I resisted the temptation to hug the carpet and made do with clutching the side of a console table.

“Come with me.” Owen took hold of my elbow and turned me toward the stairwell. He didn’t let go as he pushed the heavy door back and let me pass through.

“I’ll take the stairs from now on.” I joked shakily, as we began our descent.

“I wish you would not.” Owen’s steps paused behind me, and I turned to look up. From this angle his jaw looked pointed, firm. “It’s not good to avoid what you fear.” he continued softly.

I swallowed down the lump in my throat and forced myself to continue down the stairs.