you’re both stuck in the elevator. again. third time this month. and of course, it’s her.

she’s standing across from you, arms crossed, eyebrows already arched like she’s preparing for battle. “don’t look at me like it’s my fault,” you snap, pressing the emergency button with more force than necessary.

“you breathe near electronics and they malfunction,” she says, deadpan.

“i breathe?”

“violently.”

you roll your eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t fall out. she sighs and leans against the mirrored wall, tilting her head back like the ceiling might offer escape.

silence stretches. long. awkward. heavy.

“you always wear too much perfume,” you mutter.

“and you always talk like you’re in a bad indie movie,” she says without missing a beat.

you glare. she smirks.

“god, you’re insufferable.”

“funny. i was just thinking the same about you.”

a pause. then—

“wait.” you sniff. lean a little closer. “…is that my perfume?”

she freezes.

“…no.”

you step forward, narrowing your eyes. “oh my god. you like me.”

she turns red, and then turns away, like hiding her face will undo the moment.

“shut up,” she says.

“you like me.”

“i hate you.”

“you borrowed my perfume.”

“by accident—”

you take another step. you’re close now. too close.

“you could’ve asked.”

“you would’ve said no.”

“maybe,” you say. “or maybe i would’ve said yes if you’d asked nicely.”

her gaze drops to your lips for half a second too long.

“i don’t do nice,” she whispers.

“liar,” you breathe.

and then she kisses you. fast, fierce, like she’s mad about it. like it’s a dare. you kiss her back like it’s a challenge you’re going to win.

when the elevator jolts and starts moving again, neither of you notice.