The elevator in Steve’s building has always been notoriously shady. The building’s like ninety-five years old, and it’s one of those cage elevators where you can watch the counterweights moving, and watch people on the stairwell, and race them to the top.
But the ninety-five years old thing. That’s why Steve doesn’t usually take the elevator. He only lives on the seventh floor, and he’s young, so whatever.
Except today he’s moving a big comfy armchair into his place.
He’d have been fine with being stuck in there—after all, he’s got a comfy chair—but for one major detail: he’s stuck in there with the guy who lives on the sixth floor that Steve has a big stupid crush on.











