Pretty Boy In Love

|2| Never Trust An Elevator

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I hate elevators.

But, you really don't have a choice when the stairs are marked 'slippery' and the deadline for the Top 10 Young Photographers is in a few minutes.

True, I could've emailed my pictures, but how unprofessional would that have been? It's like saying 'Hey so I'm a lazy ass and even though I live 3 minutes from the building, I've decided to email my pictures to you. Blah.'

My heart is pounding against my chest when I take an impossibly large breath before stepping into the elevator.

There's already a boy in there. He's must've come from the parking lot. His boyish hair is a nice auburn shade, with a few blonde strands. Even though he looks about my age, his sapphire blue eyes make him look young and innocent. He's about a 3 inches taller than I am. He also probably works out a lot, as I can tell from his toned muscles. I think I just found Liv's new super-crush.

"Hey," he smiles warmly. Only now do I see the fancy camera around his neck. It's the one that I've been dying to get my hands on.

The Canon EOS 6D.

"Wow, that's a cool camera." I feel my nerves leaving me and excitement taking its place. Maybe Pretty Boy will let me touch his camera.

He looks down at it proudly. "Oh yeah, I got it for my birthday last year. Cool, right?"

Practically drooling, I nod. I want to have it, to hold in my hands, but even touching someone else's camera equipment isn't exactly normal. I don't want to scare him off. Well, he can't exactly go anywhere. We're in an elevator, what's he going to do, eat his way out, I doubt it, but who knows.

"So you're into photography?" I continue the conversation while flattening my skirt a bit.

Pretty boy smiles again, this time very genuinely. "You would expect someone who looks like me to be posing in front of the camera, but I've decided against it for now. I'm still quite fully interested in the works behind the lens."

Well, someone has an ego and a huge one at it.

This would usually be the end of the conversation. Maybe I'd say something along the lines of 'cool' or 'okay'. Then, he'd be on his way and I'd be on mine, but it's different today.

He runs his fingers along his well defined jawline as is he was trying to finger something out about me. All I'm carrying is a light brown envelope with my photos and application inside, nothing too abnormal. Yet, he still studies me silently to the point of creepy. Maybe he's some sort of perv.

That's when the pieces connect. Pretty Boy has a camera and he's rubbing his thumb and index finger against the same type of brown envelope as me. He's giving his application for the Top 10 Young Photographers, just like I am.

How convenient that we are both procrastinators and decide to hand them in last minute?

"You're trying out for the Young Photographers thing-"

I don't even get a chance to finish my sentence when I hear and feel the thud. Rude. I would find it even ruder if I didn't think we were trapped in this goddamn elevator. And if I wasn't claustrophobic.

Speaking of the claustrophobia, I am beginning to feel the walls closing in. I try to push one back, but it's no use. I'm not sure whether I'm screaming or not. Whatever Pretty Boy is saying, I can't hear him over my extreme worrying. He pulls at my arm mouthing something reassuring probably and then he seems to give up for a few moment to call someone. By now, the walls seem closer, but yet they are still as far as before.