Chapter Six: Stopped Between Floors
1229 Words
The elevator remained perfectly still.
Summer stared at the closed doors.
Then at the ceiling. Then back at the doors again, as though glaring at them might personally motivate the machinery.
“…Tell me this is one of those dramatic rich-people elevators that pauses for aesthetic effect.”
Beside her, Levi pressed the emergency button calmly.
“I don’t think luxury hotels usually market elevator malfunctions as ambience.”
Summer exhaled sharply through her nose.
“Fantastic.”
A quiet voice answered through the intercom almost immediately.
“Good evening, Mr. Fernandez. We’re very sorry for the inconvenience. Engineering is already on the way.”
Summer turned slowly.
Mr. Fernandez. Right. The hotel owners. Of course.
Levi responded evenly, “Thank you.”
No irritation. No authority. No dramatic demands. Just calm.
The line disconnected.
Summer crossed her arms loosely.
“They recognized your voice.”
“Yes.”
“That feels deeply dystopian.”
A very faint shift touched the corner of his mouth.
“You adjust eventually.”
“That’s somehow more concerning.”
Silence settled again. Not awkward exactly. Just unfamiliar.
The elevator lighting cast soft shadows across the narrow space, making everything feel strangely removed from the rest of the hotel.
Summer suddenly became very aware that this was the first time she had been completely alone with him.
No Amara. No delegates. No background conversations. Just Levi Fernandez standing three feet away looking unfairly composed during a minor crisis. Which honestly felt rude.
“You’re very calm for someone trapped in an elevator,” she said eventually.
“I’ve experienced worse confined spaces.”
The answer came too naturally.
Summer looked at him carefully.
Military. Right.
Something tightened briefly in his expression immediately afterward. Small. Almost invisible. Like he regretted saying it aloud.
Summer looked away first.
“You know,” she said lightly, “most people would try reassuring me right now.”
“You don’t seem panicked.”
“I’m deciding whether or not I should be.”
“I can recommend against it.”
That earned a quiet laugh from her.
Progress.
***
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
Summer eventually slid down carefully against the elevator wall, heels abandoned beside her.
“I officially hate networking events,” she announced.
Levi glanced downward briefly.
“You handled it well.”
“That’s because I’m professionally charming.”
“You’re naturally charming.”
The words landed so simply that Summer almost missed them.
Almost.
Her eyes lifted slowly toward him.
Levi looked entirely unaware he had said something dangerous. Or perhaps aware and unwilling to acknowledge it.
Summer tilted her head slightly.
“Was that a compliment?”
“It was an observation.”
“That’s significantly worse.”
Another almost-smile. Small. Brief. But definitely there this time.
Summer noticed immediately.
And suddenly understood why his rare expressions felt important. Because Levi Fernandez did not seem like a man who gave pieces of himself away easily.
***
The elevator lights flickered again softly.
Summer leaned her head back against the wall.
“Tired?” Levi asked after a while.
Summer laughed quietly without humor.
“I think I crossed tired three countries ago.”
He studied her for a brief moment.
“You hide it well.”
Something about the answer loosened her honesty unexpectedly.
“Everyone here feels so… important,” she admitted softly.
Levi’s expression remained unreadable.
“You are important.”
Summer shook her head immediately.
“No, I mean globally important. Government officials. Executives. Diplomats.”
“You’re speaking at the closing ceremony.”
“That still feels accidental.”
“It isn’t.”
The certainty in his voice made her look at him again.
Levi leaned lightly against the opposite wall, arms folded now.
“People don’t accidentally end up in rooms like this, Summer.”
The use of her first name caught her off guard slightly.
Not because it was inappropriate. Because it sounded strangely careful coming from him. Like he didn’t use people’s names often unless he meant to.
Summer looked down briefly at her hands.
“When I started the NGO,” she said quietly, “it was just community workshops and donated supplies and trying not to fail publicly.”
Levi listened silently.
“No one took us seriously at first,” she continued. “We were young. Underfunded. Idealistic.”
“You still are.”
Summer smiled faintly. “Probably.”
A pause.
Then, “But sometimes I still feel like everyone’s going to realize I don’t belong here.”
The confession escaped before she could stop it. Immediately she regretted it slightly. Too honest. Too vulnerable.
But Levi didn’t react the way she expected. No empty reassurance. No motivational speech.
Instead he said quietly, “I doubt anyone in this building belongs here as much as they pretend to.”
Summer blinked.
That… was not the answer she expected.
She looked at him carefully.
“You really don’t like powerful people.”
“I know too many of them.”
The words carried something heavier underneath. Not bitterness exactly. Experience.
Summer became suddenly curious about the version of Levi Fernandez that existed before corporate suits, executive meetings, and carefully controlled expressions. The soldier. The commander.
The man everyone seemed instinctively careful around.
“You left the military recently?” she asked carefully.
Something in him shifted again.
Guard went up instantly.
Summer noticed it immediately.
“Yes.”
One word. Closed.
She should let it go.
Instead, “Do you miss it?”
Silence.
Levi looked toward the elevator doors rather than at her.
And for the first time since meeting him, she saw genuine exhaustion slip briefly through the cracks.
“Sometimes,” he answered quietly.
Then after a pause,
“Sometimes not enough.”
Summer didn’t fully understand the answer. But she understood enough not to ask more.
***
Another ten minutes passed before the elevator finally jerked softly back to life.
Summer looked upward immediately.
“Oh thank God.”
The elevator resumed moving smoothly as though nothing had happened.
A quiet chime sounded moments later.
The doors opened onto the executive floor.
Summer stood quickly, slipping her heels back on.
“Well,” she said lightly, “this has been emotionally strange.”
Levi stepped aside slightly to let her exit first.
“Strange?”
“We got trapped in an elevator and discussed existential insecurity.”
“That does sound inconvenient.”
Summer laughed softly.
Then paused near the doorway. For one brief moment neither moved.
The hallway around them remained quiet, dimly lit, distant from the rest of the hotel.
And suddenly the atmosphere between them felt different than before they entered the elevator. Subtly. But undeniably.
Summer adjusted the strap of her bag.
“Goodnight, Levi.”
The name felt unfamiliar on her tongue. Not in a bad way.
Levi looked at her steadily for a second longer than necessary.
Then gave a small nod.
“Goodnight, Summer.”
She walked toward her suite trying very hard not to think about his voice saying her name, the way he listened without interrupting, or how strangely easy it had felt talking to him when no one else was around.
Behind her, the elevator doors closed again quietly.
And Levi remained standing inside several seconds longer than necessary before finally pressing the button for his floor.
- Writer
