Elevator ➵ J.M.

35. British People Have Phones!

t h i r t y - f i v e

"Wait, Jack isn't your girlfriend's name Gabbie?" I ask, looking up from my phone. Millions of stories have come out about our "reunion." And, true as they are, I'd prefer not to say anything quite yet because of what happened last time when Zach stupidly posted that picture.

"Yeah?" Jack says hesitantly. His eyes looked anywhere but mine as he said, "That might've been her."

I look down at my phone to see the beach beauty smiling on my screen. Her hazel eyes twinkled with innocence, and her smile radiated happiness. She looked like the type of person who would spend all day on a beach skating or reading and call it a productive day.

"Oh," I replied.

"Are you mad at her?" he asks with a pleading look in his eyes.

"I'm sure she's great," I reply, rolling my eyes. "If she's anything less, I'll get rid of her for you." I lift my eyebrows menacingly before laughing and looking back on my phone.

•••

"Hey," Jonah says as I walk into the studio.

"Well, hello there," I say, trying and failing at a british accent. "Would you like to get started?"

"Why, yes, madam," he says, playing along. Leading me over to a chair, he adds, "And might I add, there's a beautiful view over here."

Looking up at him, I ask, "Pray tell, I would love to see this beautiful view."

Gasping melodramatically, Jonah says sadly, "But alas, I have no mirror with me. It would truly be an honor to show you the breathtaking view that I see."

"Hey, dumbass, you can take a picture," I reply without an accent.

"Well, smartass, we're pretending we're not us," he retorts.

"British people have phones!" I whine, lightly hitting his shoulder to get my point across.

Quickly grabbing my hand, he chastises me, "Now, now. No need to get violent. All good children know not to raise their hands to their elders."

"I'm like two months younger than you," I deadpan, trying to make my face as serious as possible.

"All I'm hearing is 'I'm younger than you. You are my elder. I will do what you say.' I don't know what you hear," he responds as a playful smile dances on his lips.

Rolling my eyes, I say, "Real funny. Wanna actually do work so we don't end up penniless?"

"People pay to look at me, hun. I can wait a little bit on the work part," he says leaning down to my ear.

"Customers might pay to see you," I say, looking up into his eyes. "But I'm no customer."

"Damn, that sucks. Paying customers might get more if they ask," he whispers, his lip brushing along my ear. He pulls back as I—very audibly—gulp.

"So, let's get started!" he cheers like a five-year-old, running deeper into the room. I stand there, still awestruck at what happened.