Page 14 of You Rock My World

DORIAN

One Year Ago

A static crackle intrudes into my dreams. Even before I open my eyes, I know something’s off. I shouldn’t be this comfortable, this warm, but I can’t pinpoint why it’s wrong to feel good. Then a voice fizzles through the elevator’s speaker. “You still okay in there?”

Reality crashes into me. I’m sleeping on an elevator floor—that’s why I shouldn’t be comfortable. When I open my eyes, my heart stutters. I’m curled against Josie, my head resting on her chest. My arm is flung over her waist as if it belongs on her.

I freeze as horror and reluctant delight course through me. Her left boob has become my personal pillow, and I never want to sleep on anything else.

The speaker crackles again, snapping me fully awake. I sit up carefully, easing out of Josie’s warmth, and press the button. A new technician informs me the fire department should reach us within half an hour. I thank him and close the conversation, not sure how I feel about the impending rescue.

Josie stirs. Her eyes flutter open and widen when they meet mine—not in the awestruck way they did when she first stepped into the elevator, Shit, that’s Rian Phoenix . But with sleepy surprise, the kind that says, Oh, it’s really you, last night wasn’t a dream.

“ Morning,” she mumbles, yawning as she sits up. Her hair’s a mess, her cheeks flushed, and she’s stupidly adorable.

Her gaze flicks to my unruly hair and crumpled shirt, and I wonder what she sees. With her usual lack of filters, Josie asks, “So… did I drool on you?”

I huff a laugh. “Not that I noticed, but thanks for asking.”

As she smooths her hair and yawns again, I share the good (?) news. “The cavalry is on the way; they should rescue us any minute now.”

Her expression falters. I swear I catch a flash of disappointment, fleeting but unmistakable. Maybe she was enjoying this forced closeness as much as I was and doesn’t want it to end.

But then she smirks. “Good. I was starting to need to pee.”

It knocks me off balance all over again.

Just when I kid myself I have her figured out, she surprises me.

She’s upfront about the mundane stuff, but I can never tell what’s going on deep down.

Josie is full of wonderful contradictions, and a mystery.

And the longer I am with her, the more I wish to keep solving the clues.

But our time’s almost up. The realization hits me like a sucker punch.

I steal a glance at her to memorize the way her hair frames her face, the curve of her lips, the golden flecks in her eyes.

I want to remember it all, just in case I won’t see her like this again—sleep-tousled, unguarded, and beautiful.

“This has been incredibly fun.” Josie swipes her fingertips over her cheeks as if to iron the creases. “Same time next week?”

I wish. “I’m in, but only if you bring more survival veggie chips.”

Josie laughs, and the sound turns the fluorescent lights into sunshine. “Sure, but don’t expect me to be this entertaining again. This was peak awkward charm, I can’t top it.”

I’m done with the surface-level banter. “Last night was the most normal I’ve felt in years.”

Josie’s eyes widen, but then she smiles.

“I’m glad. You’re not too bad for a celebrity,” she teases me, even as a quiet intensity seeps into her gaze.

And, again, I can’t pin down what’s the sentiment behind that look.

Is it friendship, admiration, or something else entirely?

But she continues, “For someone who could live a hundred feet off the ground if they wanted, you stay close enough to touch the world and make it bigger.”

First, she teases me, and then she floors me with something like that. I blink at her, unsure if I’m supposed to agree, argue, or laugh it off.

She lets me off the hook with another grin. “Last night is going to go in my top ten life experiences.”

My heart thumps as I unwillingly follow her down the road of teasing retorts. “Only top ten? I’ll have to do better next week.”

A loud thud interrupts us. I grab Josie’s hand as the hatch on the ceiling creaks open and a firefighter’s head appears, upside down, peering at us with a grin.

“Josie Monroe, is that you?”

She lights up and waves. “Hey, Mitch, took you guys long enough.”

A strange pang squeezes my chest at their easy interaction. If she hadn’t told me she’s single, I suspect that pang would’ve been a sledgehammer smashing into my ribs. I shake off the irrational feeling as Mitch adjusts the harness slung over his shoulder and gestures for us to clear some space.

He hops down with the agility of a superhero. “Alright, folks, we’re getting you out. Ladies first.”

Josie puts on her sandals and flips me a mock military salute, before stepping forward.

Mitch helps her into a harness, tightening the straps around her waist and shoulders.

His hands linger a moment too long, and I clench my jaw, fighting to ignore the urge to slap his grubby paws off her.

I put my sneakers on instead, pretending I’m not glaring at them.

“You’re in expert hands, Josie.” He winks at her. “The boys won’t drop you.”

Josie laughs, a breezy sound that I want to catch and keep. “They’d better not.”

As she’s hoisted up through the open hatch, she flashes me a quick grin before disappearing above. Her voice echoes down the shaft. “Don’t look up my skirt, Phoenix.”

I smirk despite myself, her playful jab breaking through my irrational jealousy. This woman gets under my skin, and I’m not sure I mind.

Mitch straps me in a second harness. “Hold on tight,” he advises, then adds, “My wife loves your music, man.”

The tightness in my chest eases. Looks like Jositch isn’t happening after all.

I joke, “Meaning you don’t?”

Mitch makes a sheepish face. “I’m more of a country buff.”

“Fair enough.”

As Mitch pulls on the line, I’m yanked up half a floor to the forcibly opened elevator doors, where more firefighters wait to pull me to safety.

I stumble onto solid ground, my legs feeling unsteady despite the short harness ride.

Shaking off the vertigo, I scan the upper floor, desperate to lay eyes on Josie. She’s hugging a firefighter, beaming. I grit my teeth at the sight.

She moves on to fist bump the next firefighter in line, then hip bumps the last guy. They’re all ruggedly handsome, clearly familiar with her in a way that makes my blood simmer. I’m an outsider looking in, and I don’t like it. I want back into our circle of two.

Just as I’m about to go to her, in typical Josie fashion, she spins around and gives the firefighters a theatrical bow. “Thank you again for the rescue, boys,” she announces grandly. “But I’m two seconds away from peeing myself.”

She vanishes down the hall, leaving me gaping after her.

Before a firefighter can pull out their phone and ask for a photo with me, I cut in, “Yeah, same here, thank you.”

Then I head after her, fueled by a desire to hold on to our connection and a gnawing unease that whatever last night was, it’s over. But I need to catch up with her, to… I’ve no idea to do what.

I just know I’m not ready to lose her.