HIGH UP

The elevator jerked, shuddered, and stopped so abruptly that it knocked the breath straight out of Izzy’s chest. A metallic groan echoed through the elevator shaft. Then… silence.

Izzy closed her eyes. Not today. Please, not today.

“Aw, perfect,” a voice muttered beside her. “Just what I needed.”

Of all the people in the entire twenty-seven-story office building, why did it have to be him?

Izzy cracked her eyes open and glared. “Don’t start.”

“Don’t start?” Jordan shot back, running a hand through his messy curls. “You’re the one who jumped in at the last second like you were trying to outrun flash.”

“I wasn’t running,” she snapped. “I was walking fast.”

“You elbowed me.”

“That was an accident.”

“Sure, it was”

Izzy exhaled sharply, stepping back until her shoulders pressed against the cool mirrored wall. She hated being this close to him—even in the hallway, let alone a busted elevator the size of a closet. Jordan folded his arms. He was annoyingly calm, the type of calm that existed solely to punish her. She jabbed the “Door Open” button even though she already knew it wouldn’t work. The elevator stayed still. Trapped between floors. Jordan lifted his phone. “No signal.”

“Great,” Izzy muttered. “Fantastic.” She tried her phone. Nothing.

The air felt too tight. Too warm. Too… him.

Jordan cleared his throat. “Look, we’ll get out soon. Just relax.”

“Why do you assume I’m not relaxed?” she snapped.

“Because your left eyebrow is doing the twitchy thing.”

She pressed her fingers to her eyebrow. It was, indeed, doing the twitchy thing.

“Don’t analyze my eyebrows,” she said.

“Look, I’m not trying to fight,” he said with a shrug. “I’m trying to keep you from having a spazzing out.”

“I’m not spazzing out!”

The elevator hummed faintly, like it was thinking about falling. Izzy closed her eyes again and counted her breaths. In. Out. In. Out.

Jordan shifted his weight, his voice dropping a little. “You know I’m not your enemy, right?”

“You could’ve fooled me.”

He let out a slow exhale. “We work in the same department, not on opposite sides of a war.”

“You stole my client,” she said.

“I did not steal your client. I saved your ass and your client after you told him he’d get the finished proposal by Friday when the team wasn’t even halfway done.”

Izzy’s jaw tightened. “I misstated. Anyone could.”

“You lied. You lied with so much confidence that he believed you were offering him a miracle.”

“That’s not—”

“And then I had to clean up the mess…again”

Izzy opened her eyes and glared at him. “You always think you’re the hero.”

“No,” Jordan said, finally sounding annoyed. “I don’t think I’m the hero. I think we’re a team and you don’t trust anyone to help you.”

His words hit harder than she expected.

Silence filled the elevator again. He glanced at her—really glanced—like he was trying to see past the irritation. Izzy looked away.

“You know why I don’t trust anyone?” she muttered.

Jordan raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I hate depending on people. And because—” She swallowed. “Forget it.”

He didn’t push. That annoyed her even more.

The elevator pinged suddenly—a small hopeful sound—but it didn’t move.

Izzy sagged down the wall until she was sitting on the floor. “We’re going to die in here.”

Jordan snorted. “We’re not dying.”

“I hate elevators.”

“I know.”

She shot him a look. “How do you know that?”

“You always take the stairs to the fourth floor unless you’re carrying something heavy. I notice things, Izzy. I’m not oblivious.” She stared at him. For the first time since she’d met him, Jordan looked… softer. Less smug. More human.

“You hate me,” she said quietly.

“I don’t hate you.”

“You act like you hate me.”

“I act frustrated,” he corrected. “You’re talented and smart and impossible. Trusting you is like trying to hold water in my hands. But I don’t hate you.” She didn’t know what to do with that. The elevator suddenly jolted downward half an inch. Izzy yelled and grabbed the nearest thing— Jordan’s arm.

He froze.

She froze.

“Sorry,” she muttered, releasing him quickly.

“It’s fine,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck like he didn’t know what to do with the ghost of her touch. The elevator lights flickered. Came back. And with a reluctant groan, the metal began to move.

Slowly. So slowly Izzy could hear every cable, every clank.

When the doors finally slid open on the third floor, Izzy practically launched herself into the hallway. Fresh air. Space. Freedom.

Jordan stepped out behind her, hands in his pockets.

They stood there, both awkward, both avoiding eye contact.

Finally, Izzy cleared her throat. “Thank you. For… talking me down.”

Jordan gave a half-smile. “Anytime.”

They lingered.

“What now?” she asked.

He shrugged, a tiny spark of amusement in his eyes. “Stairs?”

She breathed out a laugh. “Yeah. Stairs.”

They started walking side by side—not friends, not enemies, but something new forming quietly between them. Twenty-seven floors up had changed everything.