I Do

Chapter 26 - Elevator

Lauren’s Point of View 

“Pick up, pick up, pick up.” I pace the ground, my voice ragged as I repeat the mantra. “Come on. Come on.”

Riiiiiing. Riiiiiing. Click.

A little hope pierces through and I hurry to speak. “Beth, where are you? Ple-”

Hey, you’ve reached Beth’s voicemail. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you when I can. 

“Argh!” I tug at my hair. This can’t be happening. “Goddammit, Beth, pick up your phone before I find you and murder you!” I scream into the receiver. I slam the end button as forcefully as I can and immediately redial. 

Leave a message and I’ll get back to you when I can. 

“I’m sorry for my other message. And the twenty before that. Just, please pick up Beth. I need to know you’re okay. I-” I break off, a barrage of tears assaulting my eyes. “Call me.”

I swipe a hand through my disheveled hair, still damp from my interrupted bath earlier. I stare up at the building in front of me with wariness. I can’t decide if this is the right thing to do, but I’m fresh out of options and discussing what is bothering me is also out of the question, and I don’t expect to have to do that with him. 

I climb out of my car, bringing my stringy hair over one shoulder and glancing at my reflection in the car window. 

Beautiful, I think sarcastically. 

I attack the steps two at a time, admiring the brick and stone on the facade of the building. Inside, the lobby has a calm atmosphere. I take a deep breath and look out the glass wall of the elevator, watching my car shrink in size as the numbers on the wall grow. 

I stick my thumbnail between the slit through my mouth, gnawing on the one finger that’s not already raw. I hate this habit of mine, but the tension in my shoulders won’t let up and inflicting the slight pain on my fingers makes it a little better. 

The doors slide open, but the floor number is wrong. Nash’s apartment is on the eighth floor and the number five is lit up. My silent question is answered when a young guy steps onto the elevator. 

“Morning.” he greets me. I avert my eyes to the ground. I look like an extra out of a zombie movie even though this morning I didn’t. This morning I felt more normal, although the ball was somewhat of a rough night. 

I clear my throat. “Not to be rude, but I would appreciate it if you pretended that you didn’t see me. I look like a gutter monster and I feel about as good.”

He looks up from his paper, his eyes scanning my figure. I feel self-conscious, more than I did a few seconds ago, and I want to ram my words back down my throat for somewhat inviting it.