Old Familiar Song

Chapter 2-2

On the day Larry met Geoff, he was trying to think of a way to extricate himself from the band without hurting Doug’s feelings. Would his roommate believe it if he said his professors wanted him to concentrate on his classwork more? Or would he have to at least wait until midterms before he could say his grades weren’t all that good? Maybe he could say his parents wanted him to move back onto campus to be closer to school activities? Or, hell, at this point, maybe he’d step in front of the city bus that stopped at the student union every hour and hope his injuries spoke for themselves? Anything to keep from spending another boring evening in a dead-end bar playing crappy songs no one had liked the first time around.

He had an afternoon class in McKinley, the science building on the opposite side of campus, and though he was only three weeks into his first semester, he already knew the layout of the school well enough to use the same shortcuts as everyone else. But he had a secret that shaved an extra five minutes off his walk—by ducking into the performing arts building and taking the elevator, he could bypass the stairwell leading down the side of the building and come out a good dozen yards ahead of where the path curved around. Performing arts wasn’t one of the more congested courses, so he jumped ahead of the crowd surging down the stairs and streaming around the building. And he felt like a true native, using a secret passageway no one else seemed to know.

As usual, there was no one waiting for the elevator when he arrived. Larry pressed the down button, and almost immediately, the bell dinged and the doors opened. A young man already stood inside—around Larry’s age, with that guileless freshman look he knew all too well because it stared back at him every day from the mirror. The guy had a crop of thick dark hair that looked too careless not to have been styled that way and gray eyes the color of building storm clouds. He wore jeans and a faded T-shirt that might have been white at one time, but now almost matched the color of his eyes. A pair of earphone buds snaked from his ears into his back pocket. He scowled and pressed the elevator button as if to shut the doors before Larry could get on.

Quickly Larry stepped into the elevator, aware that he was staring and unable to help it. Despite the scowl, the guy was cute. Not in a classically handsome sort of way—it was more the sort of heart-stopping, sweet Jesus, he’s beautiful, breath-taking sort of cute that seemed to favor boy band members and teen pop idols. He’d liven up our band, Larry thought, leaning back against the wall of the elevator and watching the guy’s reflection in the mirrored doors as they shut. A frontman like that? s**t, girls would go wild.

And given their record, he wouldn’t even really have to be able to sing. Larry couldn’t, he knew, so he didn’t bother to try. Didn’t have to, over the sound of the drums. Doug’s nasally vocals were usually so disconnected from the song, they made it more humorous than Larry thought he intended, not that the crowds they played to really cared. And Rob…well, to be honest, Larry didn’t know if Rob could sing or not. Some nights he didn’t even know if Rob’s mic was on.

But this guy…he wouldn’t have to sing. He’d just have to moan and swivel his hips and sneer out into the crowd, maybe pout a little, and all the women would swoon.

Who was he kidding? If the guy looked at him again, Larry thought he might swoon, himself.

With an air of annoyance, the guy thumbed the button for the first floor, as if to remind the elevator to get a move on. When it did, he rocked back on his heels and thrust his hands deep into the front pockets of his jeans. Larry racked his brains, trying to think of something to say that might start a conversation that would end in more than the both of them going their separate ways when those doors opened again. Something simple but memorable. “Hello” wouldn’t do, while “marry me” seemed a bit…well, forward.

He knew he had to speak up now if he didn’t want the guy to slip away. But when he opened his mouth to strike up a conversation, the whole world started to shake.

A dull rumble vibrated the walls of the elevator with a sound like flimsy cookie sheets being banged about. Above Larry, the light fixture rattled—slightly at first, then building in intensity. The bulb brightened, faded, then burned so brightly, Larry thought it would blow.

Suddenly the floor rippled beneath his feet, staggering him against the wall. He gripped the handrails hard and stared wildly around. Elevator cables didn’t really snap, did they? Would he die if they plummeted one story? Why’d he have to take the damn lift in the first place? He didn’t even have a class in this building!

The other guy whirled to confront Larry, as if maybe he were somehow responsible for the commotion. Those rain cloud eyes were wide now, no hint of animosity in them. A little too loudly, he asked, “What the hell?”

Larry didn’t know. The elevator continued to rock, and an image came unbidden to his mind of someone upstairs holding onto the cable and shaking it vigorously. He felt caged in, trapped, and he couldn’t get rid of the feeling that this was it. He was going to die. And he was only a freshman!

As he fought to stay on his feet, he joked, “Never had this happen to me before, and I take this thing twice a week. I always thought it was the elevator over in Carter that’s a bitch.”

A look of confusion flickered across the guy’s pretty features. “What?” he yelled.

Larry shook his head. Over the racket made by the shaking elevator and the earbuds still hanging around his neck, the guy obviously couldn’t hear him. So much for trying to be witty.

Slowly the shaking began to subside. The walls stopped clattering, the light stopped rattling, and even the floor grew stable again. But Larry could still feel the world wobbling around him, and he kept a death grip on the handrails in case whatever had happened started up again.

On the other side of the small elevator car, the guy tugged out his earbuds and stared at Larry in disbelief. “Was that an earthquake? Here?”

Here was northern Virginia, not exactly a hotbed of seismic activity. If this was what people in California had to deal with on a regular basis, Larry was happy to stay right where he was, thank you very much.

Larry didn’t dare breathe again until everything stopped completely. Then he took a shaky breath and laughed. “Well, that was exciting.” He glanced at his watch—what felt like hours while the earth shuddered around them had been less than a minute. He was almost disappointed. Surely he couldn’t be expected to actually show up to class after that?

Then he realized nothing was moving, not even the elevator. Every button on the panel by the door was lit up, including a scary red button Larry had never noticed before. He c****d his head to one side, listening, but couldn’t hear anything beyond the steel car they were in, nothing at all. No groaning cables, no squealing metal, nothing to indicate they were still heading down to the first floor.

He looked at the other guy and asked, “Have we stopped?”

It seemed impossible, but those wide eyes grew even wider, giving the guy a little boy lost expression that clenched Larry’s heart. “What? No…” He turned to the panel and jabbed the button for the first floor.

Nothing happened.

“s**t,” he muttered under his breath. He started hitting other buttons at random. At some point he found the alarm button. When he pressed it, a loud buzz filled the car.

“Great,” Larry said with a laugh. “Like anyone’s going to hear that.”

“Goddamn it!” The guy kicked the elevator doors, little good it did, then pouted at his reflection in their mirrored surface.

Larry had been right—that pout was gold. Seeing it made him want to rip the doors off their track and shimmy up the elevator shaft with the guy hanging onto his back, anything to dispel the storm brewing behind those cloudy eyes.

Tamping down his own nerves, he tried to be encouraging. “Look at it this way.”

The guy turned towards him, hopeful he might have a suggestion on how to get out of there.

Larry didn’t, but he pointed out, “At least we’re not in class.”

The guy stared at him a long moment, then laughed. When that sunshine smile broke through the gathering clouds, it was pure heaven. Later, if Larry had been asked to pinpoint the exact moment when he fell in love with Geoffrey Mason, he would’ve had to admit it was then, there in the broken down elevator, after a minor quake that sent the whole eastern seaboard in a tizzy. It was that smile, and those eyes, and Larry didn’t care if they were going to be trapped all damn day and into the night, as long as they were together.

With a shrug, he finally introduced himself. “I’m Larry, freshman.”

“Me, too,” the guy said. “I mean, I’m not Larry, you are. I’m Geoff, but I’m also…this is my first year, too.”

Geoff’s smile turned shy, and Larry was glad he still held onto the handrails because, damn it, he really was going to swoon.