Page 69 of Hate You Up Close

I reach out a hand, brushing a dark strand of hair from her forehead before cupping her face between my palms. Her smooth skin feels cold to the touch. My fingertips splay across her jaw and neck, feeling her pulse beating out of control.

My thumbs gently caress her cheeks as I search her terrified eyes.

“Are you afraid of elevators?” I ask caringly, cautious to make sure she knows that I’m not judging her.

How did I not notice this until now? She’s been working here for months. She has to use the elevator every day just to get to our floor.

She shakesher head.

“Then what is it, Rox?”

“I’m not scared of elevators,” she mutters. “But I am afraid of getting stuck in them. I’m…I’m severely claustrophobic. The feeling of being trapped in a small space with nowhere to go…”

She trails off, slamming her eyes shut and inhaling a deep breath. She’s trying so hard to calm herself down, and it’s breaking my heart to see her like this.

“Hey,” I whisper, tilting her head up until her eyes meet mine. “At least you’re not in here alone. I’m here with you, and we’re safe. You’re safe, okay?”

“I just…” her breathing picks up again, like she’s struggling to find a steady rhythm.

“How long do you think we’ll be stuck in here?” she rushes out as her eyes bounce between mine. “What if we run out of air? What if there’s a fire and we’re trapped? Oh my God…”

She’s speaking a mile a minute as her chest heaves up and down. I can see the sheer panic in her eyes. Her head is rapidly spiraling with the worst-case scenario.

Her eyes dart to the ceiling as her lips form an O, her breathing becoming sporadic and choppy. She’s starting to hyperventilate.

“Roxanne,” I rasp, leaning in closer. “Look at me.”

“Elliot…” she gasps, meeting my gaze through furrowed brows. “What if we don’t get out of here? Oh God, I can’t breathe.”

I brush my thumbs along her cheeks and hold her stare.

“We are going to get out of here, Rox,” I assure her. “This happens all the time. I’ve heard countless stories of people getting stuck in these elevators over the years. And guess what?”

“W-What?” she stammers.

“Every single one of them has made it out alive. It’s just a small malfunction that happens all the time. The help desk issending someone up right now. We’ll be out before you know it.”

“But…I…I feel like I’m running out of air,” she pants.

With her head between my large hands, I gently tilt her head up to the ceiling.

“You see those vents up there?” I ask.

“Y-Yes,” she nods frantically.

“They’re providing airflow to the elevator. We are getting plenty of air, it’s just your mind playing tricks on you.”

When she still isn't convinced, I remove one of my hands from her cheek and skim it down her delicate wrist. When I reach her hand, I intertwine our fingers together and lift our joined hands toward the ceiling, letting the cool air dance against our fingertips.

“You feel that?” I whisper against her ear.

She nods.

“That’s air,” I say in a calming tone. “See, we’re getting plenty of air.”

I pull my head back to smile down at her, but she doesn't reciprocate the gesture. She still looks scared out of her mind. Her dark pupils have almost overtaken her irises. Vacant emerald pools that I would give anything to see right now.

Her eyes widen as her brows shoot up. Now that she’s not worried about suffocating, it’s as if her mind has already found another fear to focus on.