Ashley

The door slammed shut behind us.

I didn’t think much of it at first. Honestly, I don’t think either of us did. I was digging through a shelf looking for some fucking athletic tape that, according to my coach, “had to be there because she’d put it there herself.”

Which could mean literally anything.

Matt was a few feet away, crouched beside a box full of volleyballs, looking for one that, for some reason, seemed incredibly fucking important.

“Where the fuck is that tape?”

Matt looked up.

“Good afternoon to you too.”

I didn’t even look at him.

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Thank God. I was starting to worry.”

I rolled my eyes and kept looking.

We weren’t friends. We weren’t enemies either, although if someone had asked me back then, I probably would’ve put him somewhere in between.

That short nerd who gets on my fucking nerves, maybe.

Yeah. That sounded about right.

I was a cheerleader. Blonde. Popular, I guess. I knew half the school, and the other half probably knew who I was.

Matt was… well, Matt.

The kind of guy I’d seen a thousand times in the hallways without ever having a reason to actually talk to him.

I moved a couple of boxes.

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“They’re not here.”

“What a tragedy.”

That time, I did look at him.

“Are you always this much of an asshole?”

“No. I take weekends off.”

I rolled my eyes and walked toward the door.

“Fuck it. Coach can look for them tomorrow.”

I grabbed the handle.

Turned it.

Nothing.

I tried again.

Nothing.

Matt was still digging through the volleyballs.

I pulled harder.

“What the fuck…?”

I smacked the door with my palm.

“Hey.”

No answer.

“Hey.”

“I have a name.”

“Don’t care. Come here.”

“I’m busy.”

“Just fucking come here!”

Matt sighed, stood up, and walked over. I moved away from the handle.

“It won’t open.”

He looked at me.

Then at the door.

“Have you tried opening it?”

I stared at him.

“Are you fucking stupid?”

“It was a question.”

“Of course I tried opening it.”

He grabbed the handle.

Turned it.

Pulled.

Nothing.

Pushed.

Nothing.

Then he pulled harder.

The door didn’t move an inch.

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“It doesn’t open.”

I stared at him, trying to figure out whether he was deliberately being an asshole or if this was just his natural state.

“I already knew that.”

“Then we’re making amazing progress.”

“Move.”

I shoved him aside, grabbed the handle with both hands, and started yanking on it.

“Ashley.”

“Shut up.”

“I think—”

“I said shut up.”

I pulled again.

“You’re gonna rip the handle off.”

“Good.”

“No, not good. Then we’ll be locked in here and we won’t have a fucking handle.”

I turned around.

“Then what do you want me to do?”

“For starters, don’t break the one thing specifically designed to open the door.”

“Then you open it!”

“I literally just tried.”

“Try harder.”

He stared at me for a few seconds.

“Holy shit. Why didn’t I think of that?”

I slapped his arm.

“Stop fucking with me!”

“Why do you keep hitting me?”

“Because you’re pissing me off!”

“Get a stress ball.”

I hit him again.

“Ashley!”

“Open the fucking door!”

“I CAN’T!”

His voice echoed through the entire storage room.

I went quiet.

So did he.

I took a deep breath, trying to control the knot starting to form in my stomach.

I wasn’t angry.

Well, I was angry.

But I was starting to get scared too.

I looked at the door again, then around the room. There were no windows. It was a pretty big storage room, but it was still a room packed with shelves, mats, boxes, cones, balls, and sports equipment that had probably been sitting there since before either of us was born.

I pulled out my phone.

“I’m calling someone.”

“Good idea.”

I looked at the screen.

Shit.

“No signal.”

Matt pulled out his phone.

“I’ve got one bar.”

I was next to him so fast I nearly knocked the phone out of his hand.

“Call someone.”

“I’m trying—”

The bar disappeared.

“No.”

“What?”

“It’s gone.”

“What do you mean it’s gone?”

“I mean I don’t have a signal anymore.”

“Then find one.”

“Find what?”

“A signal!”

“Ashley, it’s not a Pokémon.”

“I don’t give a shit! Climb on something!”

“What?”

“A shelf, I don’t fucking know!”

He looked at me like I’d just suggested jumping off the roof.

“Sure. I’ll climb a ten-foot metal shelf, crack my skull open, and then we’ll have two problems.”

“Give me the phone.”

He handed it over.

I started walking around the storage room holding it above my head. One corner. Nothing. Another corner. Nothing.

I climbed onto a bench.

“If you fall, I’m laughing.”

“If I fall, I’m killing you.”

“After you fall.”

“Matt, shut up.”

I kept moving the phone around.

“One bar.”

“Seriously?”

“Wait.”

Gone.

“FUCK!”

I almost threw the phone.

“Hey, hey, hey. That’s my phone.”

I handed it back and pulled mine out again.

“What time is it?”

He checked.

“Six twenty.”

I froze.

“No.”

“What?”

“No, no, no. Practice ended almost an hour ago.”

“Yeah.”

“Is anyone still here?”

Matt didn’t answer right away.

That was enough.

“There has to be someone here.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I don’t know, Ashley. The school closes at seven, but most of the teachers leave before that. There’s probably a janitor around somewhere.”

I started banging on the door.

“HEY!”

Again.

“WE’RE IN HERE!”

Matt walked over.

“HEY! SOMEONE’S LOCKED IN HERE!”

We waited.

Nothing.

I hit the door again.

“FUCK! OPEN THE DOOR!”

“Ashley.”

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!”

“Ashley.”

“WHAT?”

“If there’s anyone left in the building, they probably heard you.”

“Then they can come fucking open it.”

We waited.

Ten seconds.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Nothing.

I swallowed.

“No.”

“What?”

“I’m not staying in here.”

“Wasn’t exactly on my bucket list either.”

“No, Matt. You don’t get it. I’m not staying in here all night.”

“We’ll figure something out.”

“We’ll figure something out?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s your plan?”

“What do you want me to say? That I’m gonna walk through the fucking wall?”

I shoved him.

“Do something.”

“I’m thinking.”

“Think faster.”

“Ashley, if you shove me again—”

“What?”

I stared straight at him.

“What are you gonna do?”

Matt went quiet.

So did I.

And the second the words left my mouth, I realized they’d sounded different from how I meant them.

It wasn’t just a challenge.

There was something else underneath it.

He took a step back.

“Nothing.”

I kept staring at him.

“I’m not gonna do anything to you.”

“Right.”

“Right what?”

“Nothing.”

“No. Say it.”

“I said nothing.”

“Then stop looking at me like you think I’m gonna attack you.”

“I’m not looking at you like that.”

“Yeah, you are.”

I crossed my arms.

“We’re locked in a room and there’s no one here.”

“Thanks for the update.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to—”

“You’re a guy.”

Matt blinked.

“Last time I checked.”

“And I’m locked in here with you.”

His expression changed.

That was when he got it.

And the second I saw it on his face, I felt embarrassed.

Not because I genuinely thought Matt was going to do something to me. I barely knew him well enough to think anything about him at all.

That was exactly the problem.

I didn’t know him.

There were no windows.

And nobody knew we were in there.

Matt looked at the door, then back at me.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

He walked several steps away from me and sat on top of a box.

I frowned.

“What are you doing?”

“Sitting down.”

“I can see that.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“Matt.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Find a way out.”

“And I will. But first I’m gonna make something very fucking clear because you’re starting to piss me off.”

I opened my mouth, but he raised a hand.

“I’m not gonna touch you.”

I froze.

“I’m not gonna try to kiss you. I’m not gonna crawl over to you while you’re sleeping. I’m not gonna take advantage of us being stuck in here, or do whatever fucked-up shit you’ve got running through your head right now. If we have to stay here until morning, you stay on one side and I stay on the other. If you’re cold, we find blankets. If you’re hungry, we see if there’s food. If you need to pee…”

He looked around.

“Well. That one’s gonna be a fucking problem.”

A tiny laugh escaped through my nose.

Very tiny.

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“No.”

“Talk to me again when you’ve been holding it for six hours.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying. There are buckets.”

“Matt.”

“Okay, okay.”

For a few seconds, the room went quiet again.

I sat on a bench across from him.

“I’m not sleeping.”

“Perfect.”

“Perfect?”

“Yeah. Then you can watch me all night and make sure I don’t magically turn into a rapist at three in the morning.”

My expression hardened.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I don’t know you.”

“I don’t know you either, and you’ve been hitting me since we got in here.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“No, of course not. Because you’re you.”

“Don’t start with that bullshit.”

“I’m not starting anything. I get that you’re scared. What I’m not gonna do is apologize for something I haven’t fucking done.”

I went quiet.

So did he.

I looked down at the floor.

“I’ve had bad experiences.”

I didn’t know why I told him.

I didn’t even know what I expected him to do with that information.

Matt just nodded.

“Okay.”

I looked up.

“Okay? That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know.”

“Neither do I.”

I watched him for a few seconds.

“You’re weird.”

“Thanks.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“Then thanks twice.”

I rolled my eyes.

Matt stood up.

My body reacted before my brain did. My shoulders tensed.

He noticed.

“I’m going to check the door.”

“We already checked it.”

“Yeah, but now I’m gonna try that thing you suggested earlier.”

“What?”

“Trying harder.”

I flipped him off.

He smiled.

He walked over to the door and examined the lock. It didn’t look like a normal one. There was only a handle on our side, but it was completely jammed.

“Do you have a bobby pin?”

“What?”

“A bobby pin.”

“Do I look like I carry a fucking toolbox in my hair?”

He looked at me.

“You’re a cheerleader.”

“So?”

“I don’t know. You guys have, like, secret technology for keeping your hair in place while you’re flying through the air.”

“Secret technology.”

I dug through my ponytail.

Pulled out two bobby pins.

“Here you go, MacGyver.”

“Knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

“If you break them, I’m stabbing you in the neck with them.”

He crouched beside the lock.

“That is disturbingly specific.”

“Open it.”

“I’m working on it.”

A few minutes passed.

I watched him move the bobby pins around inside the lock.

At first, I thought he knew what he was doing.

Then it slowly became obvious that he absolutely fucking didn’t.

“You don’t know how to do this.”

“I’m learning.”

“Right now?”

“Gotta start somewhere.”

“Give me that.”

“You know how?”

“No.”

“Then let me fail in peace.”

“Jesus Christ.”

I kept watching him.

“Why were you here?”

“Looking for a ball.”

“No. At school.”

He turned his head.

“Because I go here.”

“Very funny.”

“Thanks.”

“You know what I mean. It’s Wednesday. Everyone was already gone.”

“I had practice.”

“You’re not on any team.”

“Nope.”

“So?”

“I help the coach some afternoons.”

I frowned.

“Why?”

“Because he pays me.”

“He pays you?”

“Ten bucks.”

“Per afternoon?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s child labor.”

“I’m seventeen.”

“Still child labor.”

“Ten bucks is ten bucks.”

“I wouldn’t waste an afternoon for ten bucks.”

“You’re wearing sneakers that cost more than my phone.”

I looked down at my shoes.

“So?”

“Different tax brackets.”

“You’re such a fucking dick.”

“And you’re spoiled.”

“I am not spoiled.”

He looked me up and down.

I opened my mouth.

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought it.”

“You can’t get mad at me for my thoughts.”

“I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

“Solid argument.”

The bobby pin bent.

“Shit.”

My eyes widened.

“I told you not to break it.”

“It’s not broken.”

“It’s bent.”

“Bobby pins are already bent.”

“Not like that, asshole.”

I snatched it out of his hand.

“Forget it.”

I sat back down.

Matt checked his phone.

6:47.

He tried calling emergency services.

The call wouldn’t even connect.

He tried his mom.

Nothing.

He tried sending a text.

Nothing.

I did the same.

For the next twenty minutes, we searched every inch of the storage room. We found an air vent that was way too small. A second door that led to an even smaller closet full of cleaning supplies. And a rusty screwdriver that, for about thirty seconds, made us feel like we’d just found fucking Excalibur before turning out to be completely useless.

At 7:10, we heard something.

I froze.

So did Matt.

“Did you hear that?”

“Yeah.”

We ran to the door.

“HEY!” Matt yelled. “WE’RE IN HERE!”

I started banging on it.

“HEY! PLEASE!”

Another sound.

Footsteps.

My heart jumped.

“IN HERE!” I screamed. “THE STORAGE ROOM!”

The footsteps kept moving.

Then they started getting farther away.

“NO!”

I slammed my fists against the door.

“HEY! HEY!”

Matt ran toward one of the shelves, grabbed a metal bar, and smashed it against the door.

CLANG.

The sound made me cover one ear.

“WE’RE LOCKED IN HERE!”

He hit it again.

“HEY!”

Nothing.

I pressed my ear against the door.

We waited.

Silence.

“They left,” I said.

“They might come back.”

“They left.”

“Ashley—”

“THEY FUCKING LEFT!”

I kicked the door.

Then again.

“FUCK!”

“Stop.”

“DON’T TELL ME TO STOP!”

Another kick.

“Ashley.”

“OPEN!”

Another.

Then Matt grabbed my arm.

I didn’t think.

Not even for a second.

I spun around and slapped him.

Across the face.

We both froze.

My hand stayed suspended in the air between us.

His face was turned to the side.

And I was staring at his hand wrapped around my wrist.

Matt let go immediately.

“Okay.”

I was breathing too fast.

So was he.

“I told you not to touch me.”

“You were kicking a metal door.”

“I don’t care.”

“You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“I DON’T CARE!”

“WELL, I DO!”

Silence.

I stared at him.

I had no fucking idea why he’d yelled that.

Judging by his face, neither did he.

Matt touched his cheek.

“Jesus. You hit hard.”

“Don’t grab me again.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“I mean it.”

“So do I.”

I looked at his cheek.

It was already turning red.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, not at all. Felt like a fucking kiss.”

“Matt.”

“Yes, Ashley. It hurt.”

“Then don’t grab me.”

“And don’t kick metal doors.”

“You’re not my dad.”

“Thank God.”

I frowned.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“No. Say it.”

“That being locked in here with you is already expensive enough. I don’t need to pay for your college too.”