The next morning, I step into the elevator, only to find Elena already inside. We're alone in the mirrored space. My stomach flips as the doors slide shut.
She gives me a sidelong glance, posture poised. "You didn't call me back last night."
I shrug stiffly. "You ended the call before I could say anything."
Her lips tilt in a wry smile. "Maybe I wanted you to chase me."
The elevator hums as it ascends, a tension-laden silence pressing in. I see our reflection in the polished metal: me in a slightly wrinkled shirt, her in a crisp blouse. She looks calm, but her eyes flicker with something restless.
At the 14th floor, the doors whoosh open. She steps out gracefully, turning back just long enough to whisper, "We're not finished, Lucas."
I remain behind, heart pounding as the doors close again. Part of me whispers WTF am I doing? Another part wonders how long I can resist the magnetic pull of her chaos.