Elevator Love

Summary: Bridgette may be fifteen, but she has the spirit of a five-year-old, and so do her friends, Rosabelle, and Demeter. But Rosabelle has her first date, and begins to gush how wonderful her new boyfriend is. Bridgette, determined to escape, runs for an elevator, and something she never expected happens… One-shot.

Elevator Love

"He's so sweet! He bought me flowers, and he paid for the bills… everything. Brendan is just so nice! He's handsome…"

I sighed. When was my best friend Rosabelle going to come back? This girl talking was love-struck.

My name's Bridgette Adams and I'm fifteen. The soppy girl who was talking about her new boyfriend was one of my best friends, Rosabelle Toralan (Belle for short). My other best friend, who's still kept her head, is Demeter Jones (that's Demi to anyone who doesn't want their head chopped off).

Demi and I exchanged glances, and we both rolled our eyes. Unfortunately for us, Rosabelle took one look at us, and began to rage.

"Oh, come on! Stop acting like children! It's like you think guys can still give us cooties! Goodness, Demeter and Bridgette, you're so immature…"

She trailed off, and we knew why. She was staring at us, and we were staring back, full of pure rage.

Of course we were immature. Of course we still acted like guys still gave us cooties. Of course we were acting like children- it was what we stood for.

When I started high school in Year 7, I was twelve years old. When I finished it, I was thirteen, and I knew people younger than me, who had already had their fair share of boyfriends.

Needless to say, it gave me the heebie-jeebies.

Belle and Demi were already friends, and I suddenly realised how much we had in common. We clicked, and then we just hung out, talking about random stuff, and making each other laugh.

I remembered expressing my feelings about boys: "I don't mind boys- I've had some guy friends. But I want to be independent- and I don't want to rely on an immature guy. How can people have boyfriends at our age?"

And on that day, we swore we'd never had boyfriends during high school. That was our Pact.

And that was three years ago.

Now, we were all fifteen- we now understood the meaning of being a teenager. However, while Demi and I had only ever expressed we had celebrity crushes (i.e. "OMG! Isn't Taylor Lautner totally hot?!"), Rosabelle began looking for some fish to fry.

That was three months ago, and she began to blush when "cute" guys caught her eye. Sure, they were cute, but were they capable enough for her? We began to remind her of the Pact, and her reply was, "That was three years ago. We've grown up since then."

Demi and I were speechless. This was the Rosabelle who had poked her tongue out at a poster at Zac Efron when were twelve. No joke.

Well, I did too, but that just isn't the point…

And then, she met Brendan, and sparks flew- literally.

I would tell you the really long version, but it makes me sick, so in a nutshell, they met during a thunderstorm, and Belle, being her typical ditzy self (again, no joke) had forgotten her umbrella, although we had told her to bring hers the night before, because we'd heard that heavy rain was expected.

She had answered with her normal reply, "I know, I know. It's in my bag."

In my bag my ass.

Well, anyways, Brendan saw she was getting drenched, and the smart boy had moved over to her (with his umbrella, of course), and practically sang to her, "You can stand under my umbrella, you can stand under my umbrella… ella, ella, eh, eh, eh…"

Okay, that's a joke, but he did tell her to come under it, because she was going to get sick.

It turned out he lived real close to her place, and walked her home to the astonishment of her parents. They added each other on Facebook, and they began talking.

Then, two weeks later, she nervously asked her mum and dad if she could go on a date with the guy. They replied cautiously, "Fine. But be careful."

She was, and she went on that date with him a week ago. On that day, not only did she go on her first date, she had gotten her first kiss, and he became her first boyfriend.

Moving fast, much?

Well, she couldn't stop gushing about him. I'd met Brendan, and he seemed okay, but I didn't need his perfectness shoved into my face every time I saw Rosabelle.

Demi said slowly, "I don't even know who you are anymore. And you just did not call me Demeter."

"S-sorry," Rosabelle exclaimed, scared.

Demi wasn't an exact fan of her name- Demeter was the Greek goddess of grain, the earth's fertility, the seasons, and the harvest. Demi wasn't a real big fan of the outside world.

Belle actually shut up for a few minutes about her new boyfriend, and we shopped in peace, talking about random things- we were almost the same group of friends we were three months ago.

Then she had to break the peace, saying, "Brendan…"

Demi groaned, exasperated. "Can't you shut up about him for about five minutes?! I've met him already and yes, he's nice, and I know you like him- so SHUT UP!"

She didn't really scream it, but Rosabelle huffed, and replied. "I think you're just jealous."

"Me? Jealous?!"

It was time for me to step in, and I stretched my arms between them, playing referee. "Time out. Belle, shut up about Brendan for like, ten minutes, okay? Demi, shut up. Okay? Think about it as… an obsession- not that is, Belle," I added, hastily. "Okay?"

The two opposing sides nodded, and I breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, let's get back to work."

I swear Rosabelle was checking her watch until the ten minutes were up, because she checked it, and began to talk about Brendan again.

I thought Demi was going to commit suicide, and I thought I was too, so I just said, "I gotta go to the ladies room."

"I'll come with you," Demi quickly offered. She sounded eager.

Rosabelle heard her eagerness too, and I quickly said, "Er… I'm fine! I'm not a little kid. I'll meet you… where?"

We discussed where we were going to meet, and I promised I would call them if I wasn't going to be back for a while.

I left the shop, and once I was out of their line of sight, I half ran to the toilets furthest away from Rosabelle and her freaky obsession with her new boyfriend.

When I finally reached the toilets, something shiny caught my eye- it was the doors of the elevator.

They had just opened, and someone zoomed past me, running towards it. I decided to do the same.

Unfortunately, I was much slower than the stranger that had zoomed into the lift, and the doors were about to close… and the person inside was rapidly pressing a button, hoping it would close…


I stuck my hand in, hoping the doors wouldn't close on it, and crush my bones. The doors reopened, and slid inside, and rested my head against the wall, and sighed. "Thank God…"

At this moment, I suddenly remembered that I was in a lift with a stranger. Turning towards the person, my mouth flushed, I looked at the other person in the lift.

He had taken the same position I had, and then, he was turning towards me.

He was pretty cute- not that I would care, however- his hair was dark brown, with a golden tinge to it, with some strands falling into his dark brown eyes. He was tanned, but not too tanned, and he had a rosy colour on his cheeks; like me, he was embarrassed. He looked my age, and I thanked the stars he hadn't been a granny- though grannies didn't run that fast- and that he hadn't thought I was insane.

Breaking the awkward silence, I managed to say meekly, "Hi."

"Hey," was his response, his brown eyes boring into my own dark violet ones.

"I'm sorry about stopping the lift," I apologised. "It seemed as if you were in a hurry."

"Huh?" he asked, distracted, though he was still staring at me. "Oh. That. Don't worry about it. You seemed like you were in a hurry too."

I laughed half-heartedly. "Yeah- a real hurry to get away."

He laughed back. At first, I thought he was laughing at the way I said it, or the fact it seemed so dumb. But he just replied, "Me too!"

"From what?" Really, I'd only met this guy two seconds ago, but I was already intrigued by him.

"Nah, it's real stupid," he said, his cheeks going slightly pinker.

"Mine is too," I protested. "It won't be bad- I won't laugh; I promise."

My promise seemed to reassure him. He took a deep breath, and mumbled, "I'm hiding from my friend."

Despite my promise, I began to giggle. He seemed more embarrassed, and he began to mumble, "I told you it was stupid-"

"I'm laughing because that's what I'm hiding from too!"

We both began to laugh, at how coincidental our meeting was. Then all of a sudden-

Ping! "Level One," the elevator said.

We began to stop laughing, and I could feel my face reacting to the disappointment building inside me. "Well, I'm headed for level two," I said softly. "I'm going for a bite to eat."

His face looked like I felt, but I saw his face glimmer with hope. "There's a food court on this level."

No one was waiting for the elevator, which was a surprise. The doors pinged, beginning to close-

And we didn't head out. We decided to ride the elevator to the second floor.

When they opened again, we headed out, and then took another elevator down, talking all the way.

Once we arrived at the food court, I suddenly realised I didn't know this guy's name. I knew he was fifteen- like me- and he was hiding from his friend- like me- and that his favourite colour was blue- like me- and that he had a dog- like me- but his was called Archie, whereas mine was called Violetta, because when she was a puppy, someone spilt grape juice on her white fur, and it was stained purple. We still hadn't named her at the time, though. That happened the day we got her, or the day after, or something.

We sat at our table awkwardly. "So," he said, breaking the silence, "I never got your name."

"I never got yours," I retaliated with a smile.

He grinned. "It's Elliott."

"My name's Bridgette, but my closest friends call me Didge. I don't mind."

"Bridgette," he said, repeating my name. "It's a really good one."

I blushed. "Thanks. So is Elliott."

He blushed back. "So, are you going to eat something?"

"Yeah, of course."

"I'll order for you?"

"I can order for myself-"

"I'll order for you." This time, it wasn't like a question, it was more like and order.

"Fine," I huffed.

He grinned, and he came back a few minutes later with two hot dogs, two Cokes, and a huge bowl of chips.

I forked out my wallet. "How much-?"

"My shout," Elliott quickly replied.

"Come on, I wanna pay-"

"Bridgette, I said, my shout."

"Elliott, I'm gonna pay."

He stared into my eyes, and sighed. "Ten bucks."

"Thank you!" I said, enthusiastically.

He looked at me strangely as he took my blue ten dollar note. "You know, I heard girls usually dig guys paying for them."

"Well, I guess you could say I'm not like other girls," I replied, a little softly.

"I think that's cool," was his reply. "I like girls who are independent- they don't need anyone to rely on, you know? So you don't have to be careful of saying the wrong things in case they rage at you."

I looked at him, a chip poised at my mouth. "You really think so?" I asked, before putting the chip into my mouth.

"Clingy girls make me freak," he said, simply. "My friend went on his first date with this girl, and he did everything for her. He says girls dig it, but I don't think that's the case."

I laughed. "It sounds like my friend's date too…"

We didn't continue talking about our friends; we talked more about each other. We finished our food and we were still talking. Elliott was interesting; someone I could relate to. He wasn't soppy, or something like a knight, like Brendan was. No, he was a normal guy who I could trust.

Time past fleetingly while I was talking to Elliott, so I was shocked when I heard, "Didge!"

Both Elliott and I turned towards the sound. There was Rosabelle, her face slightly flushed, running towards me, her long, strawberry blonde hair flying out behind her, her sparkling blue eyes relieved and troubled. "Where the hell have you been? You've been gone for two hours!"

"I had… bad diarrhoea," I lied. Elliott began to look away, but I could see a grin on his face. "This guy here, Elliott, bought me lunch."

"What the hell are you doing here, bro?" another male voice asked.

Someone standing near Demi- who is looking just as relieved as Belle- comes forward. It's a boy with blonde hair and green eyes. He heads over to Elliott, while Elliott grins sheepishly.

"Er, hey bro. I had… gastro," he lied. "That's why I took so long in the little boy's room."

It's my turn to almost laugh my head off, but I divert my gaze from him to try to keep to our roles.

"Gastro my ass," the boy replied. "Oh, hey Bridgette. How'd you meet my boy Elliott here?"

As the boy- whom I now recognise as Brendan, Rosabelle's boyfriend- took Rosabelle's hand, Elliott said, "Say what, Bren?" and I gasped. "Oh God. Brendan."

Elliott looked at me. "You know him?"

"Well, yeah. He's my friend's boyfriend."

"Oh…! You're Bren's girlfriend's best friend that he met!"

"Well, Demi met him too," I replied, blushing.

"Cut the crap. How'd you guys meet? Because there is no freaking way you got gastro. You'd be at home dying."

"Well, not dying-" I protest.

"Fine. We were hiding from you- sappy lovebirds," Elliott said, grinning.

"Elliott!" I hissed. "That's a little rough!"

Rosabelle looked hurt. "Is that true?" she whispered.

"I told you to shut up," Demi added, grinning, as if she'd won a bet.

"We met in the elevator," I say softly, blushing. "By the way, what's with the Spanish Inquisition?"

"Yeah, what the hell?" Elliott protested. He was acting more like a guy I could relate to. It was like he was hiding from me.

But Rosabelle and Brendan don't say anything. They stare at each other, grinning, still holding hands. Demi looks astounded, as if she's been ditched, but slightly pleased.

I suddenly realise what they're thinking. "It's not what you think-"

"Sure," Demi says, grinning.

Elliott and I look at each other. Maybe it is what they think. Maybe it is. But suddenly, I'd found someone I wanted to gush about- not that I would, of course, and I finally understood why Rosabelle had complained we were acting like kids.

We were. More like babies, and five year olds. Now, I was the same, immature Bridgette Adams, but I'm like a four-year-old now.


Because at four, I wasn't scared of cooties.