The point is: he could help me reach the panel. I could dislodge it, climb out of the car, and if we’re close enough to the upper floor, I might be able to pry the doors open and hoist myself out. At that point, I would be free. Free to go home and feed Ozzy, who’s no doubt currently whistling his little heart out like he always does when he hasn’t eaten in more than two hours. He’d look at me like I’m a horrible rodent mother, but then he’d begrudgingly accept my carrot stick and snuggle in my lap. And of course, when my phone has reception, I’d call for help so that someone can come take care of Erik. But I wouldn’t stick around to see him out, because I’ve already had plenty of—

“No.”

I startle and look at Erik. He is still in the corner opposite mine, giving me a flat stare. “No, what?”

“It’s not going to happen.”

“You don’t even know what—”

“You’re not going to climb out of the emergency exit.”

I nearly recoil, because despite my magical-thinking tendencies I am aware that mind reading is not really a thing that exists. Then again, I am also aware that this is not the first time Erik seems to know exactly what’s going on in my head. He was pretty good at it during our dinner together. And then later, of course. In bed.

But in this house (i.e., my brain) we do not acknowledge that.

“Well,” I say, “you’re way bigger and way heavier. So you can’t do it.” Plus, I’m not sure I trust him not to leave me here. I’ve trusted him before and heavily regretted it.

“Neither can you, because I’m not going to let you.”

I frown. “I might be able to reach the exit by myself. In which case you technically don’t have to let me.”

“If that happens, I’m going to physically prevent you from doing it.”

I hate him. So much. “Listen, what if we’re stuck in here for days? What if me climbing out is our only chance?”

“There is nothing to suggest that the elevator won’t start up again the second the power outage is resolved. We’ve been in here for about thirty minutes, which is nothing, considering that the repair crew is probably working on the grid to fix a block-wide outage. Not to mention how incredibly dangerous what you are proposing would be.”

He’s right. I’m being impatient and irrational. Which flusters me. “I—only for me.”

His face turns into stone. “Only for you?”

“You’d be safe in here. You’d just need to wait for me to call for help, and—”

“You think I would be okay with you putting yourself in danger?” At baseline, Erik is not exactly a warm, convivial guy, but I had no idea he could sound like this. Deceptively calm, but furiously, icily livid. He leans forward as if to better glare at me, and his hand reaches up to close around the handrail, knuckles stretched white. I have a brief vision of him snapping it in two.