It's 6:47 PM when I step into the entrance of my building, keys still between my fingers, groceries dangling from my left wrist. A long, hot, thought-heavy day. All I want is to peel off my jeans, stay in my panties, and sip something cold on the couch. I slam my thumb on the elevator button and hear the usual hum. The door opens and I get in without thinking.

I press the button for the fifth floor. But at the second, it stops. The door opens and… Kevin. The new neighbor from the third floor. Tall, lean build, a few days’ stubble, eyes that seek yours even when you're not looking. We don’t really know each other, just a few smiles in the hallway.

"Hi," he says, in that calm tone.

"Hi," I reply, with a small smile, trying not to seem too interested.

The door closes. The elevator starts. A jolt. A sharp noise.

Then... silence.

Kevin and I look at each other.

"It’s not moving anymore," he murmurs, pressing the emergency button.

I try my phone: no signal.

The air suddenly feels warmer. I lean against the wall, slowly letting the grocery bag slip to the floor. The bags crinkle on the tiles, the still-cool water bottle rolls lazily toward the center of the cabin.

"I think we're stuck."

He smiles. "Great. It’s the first real conversation we’ve had, and we’re trapped in an elevator."

We both laugh. But behind the laughter, I feel the tension rising. Not fear. Something else.

It’s the enclosed space. The closeness. The fact that he sits next to me, back against the wall, his knee brushing mine.

We talk. About work. Movies. The trips we dream of. The TV shows we watch alone at night, lights off, a blanket over our legs. Empty Saturday afternoons and slow Sunday mornings. I’m surprised by how in sync we are. His words caress me, his gaze explores me with growing curiosity. The elevator remains stuck. But inside me… something stirs.

It’s hot. I unfasten the top button of my shirt. He notices. His eyes linger a second too long. My breathing changes. So does his.

We drink from the same water bottle. When he hands it to me, our fingers brush. My skin tingles at the slight contact, and a sweet shiver runs down my back. The silence that follows is heavy. Our legs touch. I don’t move. Neither does he.

I begin to hear my heartbeat in my temples. My jeans, tight, start to feel unbearable. The fabric clings strangely, uncomfortably, as if betraying me. Moisture builds between my thighs, and I pray it’s not visible. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs, as if trying to shake off a thought, or maybe encourage it.

"You know," he says in a low, deep voice, "I’m not that upset to be stuck here."

I look at him. I stare. And feel my knees weaken slightly.

"Neither am I," I reply, almost without realizing.

At that moment we are two bodies suspended. Between floors. Between breaths. Between everything that could still happen.

We talk more. Time stretches, slow and enveloping. Kevin tells me about his passion for photography. I tell him about my broken teenage dreams, the poems I used to write but never shared. We laugh about silly things. We share fragments of ourselves, as if time were an irrelevant detail. The elevator becomes our private universe. No sounds from outside. Only each other’s breath.

At one point, we both stand. He walks to the control panel, tries calling maintenance again. Nothing. He looks at me. "At least we’re not alone," he says, and I smile back with a mix of complicity and mischief. A moment later, we’re seated again, closer than before. Our knees touch deliberately. Our bodies speak a silent language, heavy with restrained desire. I feel electric, tense, alive.

"Can I ask you something?" he asks, suddenly serious.

I nod.

"I noticed you the first day. When I saw you in jeans and a t-shirt by the mailboxes. I thought: ‘She’s dangerous.’"

"Dangerous?" I smile.

"Yes. Because you make me want to do things I shouldn’t."

I laugh, but a shiver runs through me. My heartbeat quickens. His words are like invisible hands on my skin.

His fingers, without asking, reach for mine. The touch is light but firm. His hands are warm. Mine tremble slightly. We stop talking. Our eyes search, find, and tell everything.

Then, we kiss. Slowly. Hungrily. The outside world vanishes. The elevator is still. But we... we’ve been moving for minutes now.

Suddenly, the cabin lights go out. A sharp click, and we’re wrapped in darkness.

I hold my breath. My body stiffens for a moment. Kevin hugs me tightly, holding me in the dark.

"It’s okay," he whispers near my ear, "I’m here."

His voice is calm, but his breath is hot, uneven. His hands start sliding down my back, exploring my skin through the thin shirt. I tremble. Not from fear. But from desire.

Our lips meet again. But now the kiss is different. More urgent. Deeper. My nails dig into his shoulders, scratching his bare skin, drawing a quiet moan from his mouth.

Kevin’s fingers slip under my clothes, popping my buttons one by one. His clothes fall away. My skin burns, slick with sweat. Every touch is fire.

His palms slide between my thighs, finding the wetness pulsing beneath my jeans. My moans fill the space. My breath quickens. His hands grasp. My legs give in.

Then… a metallic sound. A click.

The lights snap back on.

The elevator floor vibrates. The mechanism restarts. We remain still, wrapped around each other, half-naked, still panting. Our eyes meet.

And in that moment, the doors open.