The Panic Room

By Kayleigh Kitt

“It’s not even nine.” Rebecca’s protests were drowned by the sound of the cork.

Fluid nectar flowed into the plastic flutes. “What’s the worst that could go wrong? You’re ten minutes away from home.” He looked at her wedge espadrilles, “And if those are an issue, I’ll give you a piggyback.” He grinned impishly.

When she was slow to take the flute he asked quickly, “You do drink don’t you?” He’d only ever seen her at work events with a soft drink.

“Yes of course.”

Wordlessly, Adrian pulled a few plastic tubs from his rucksack and opened them, to reveal a selection of fruit and pastries. He silently felt her relax a little. He hadn’t planned this as a liquid breakfast, although her expectations had been unshared.

Popping a cherry in his mouth, he took a mouthful of Prosecco then looked at the vision in front of him. Despite yesterday’s team building not having gone to plan, it yielded the same result. She’d agreed to go on a date with him.

It had taken weeks to try and attract her attention. Sitting with her in the break room while she ate her lunch had been fruitless, her head in a book, headphones jammed into both ears. 

It was as good as a do not disturb sign.

That had left the option of the team building exercise.  

He’d booked several groups onto an Escape Room Experience.  

Unfortunately, he didn’t know she was claustrophobic. While it had worked to his advantage with their first kiss, as a distraction to stop her hyperventilating, she’d sprung away from him looking venomous.

Events had taken a turn for the worse when the heat ramped up, he’d nearly fainted because it was so hot, but she’d calmly taken over the situation, solved the clue, and the temperature had begun to return to normal.

It could have gone better, he grimaced, to resolve the warmth, the ceiling sprinklers activated, and the white shirt she’d been wearing became translucent. He’d given her his hoodie to wear, but even with that, there had been a minor hiccup, as the pins holding back her usual severe bun had got caught somehow on some stitching. On reflection, if that hadn’t happened, he would never have gently pulled the pins out, and seen those glossy curls cascade down her back; or smelled the rose and geranium shampoo she used.

He’d waited in the car park for her afterwards, and she’d only agreed to have breakfast with him, as he said he’d collect his hoodie from her the day after, but not until she’d blurted out her last boyfriend had died and said he should know.

“So I’ve been told,” he fixed her with the same cool look he had after he’d kissed her in the Escape Room.  It had settled the hyperventilation and surprised him when her body had reciprocated on her behalf, despite her expression, on parting.

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“Should it?”

“I – I don’t know.” Normally she admitted, guys just ran.

But here she was, sitting in a dress. Adrian had never seen her in a dress before and those thick, glossy brown locks cascaded down her back. She still wore the delicate gold chain around her neck he’d noticed her wearing yesterday, but that was only when she’d unbuttoned the top two buttons of her shirt in the heat. He’d ask her about it sometime, but for now, he was content to sit on a blanket, watching the river pass by and eating breakfast.

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Kayleigh Kitt lives in Shropshire, UK with her husband and ageing cat who thinks it’s a dog. She’s had work published in the Hooghly Review, Dark Winter Lit and CNF in Across the Margin and is a regular contributor to Scifansat. A selection of her published work can be found at https://kayleighkitt75.wixsite.com/dragon