YAAAAAY!! i FINALLY updated!! soooo sorry for taking so long! Ugh. Real life is such an ugly attention-whore :P

oooh, and THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed!! you guys make my LIFE. quick question though: how do you reply to reviews? can you? are you supposed to? is it considered polite? i dont know this site etiquette!!

and don't worry, this fic is nowhere near done. I'll try a LOT harder to update faster next time!!

I suppose elevators are a common place for awkward moments. It's the perfect formula: when you press a button, you have no idea when the doors are going to open, so you could be caught in some sort of graceless position when the door opens, like picking your nose or fixing a wedgie. Then again, you don't even know if there's going to be anyone in the elevator. It could be completely empty when you enter, or there could be a fat old man in a speedo that leers at you creepily as he walks out past you, followed by his equally unpleasant grandson. And once you're actually in the elevator, you don't know if it's going to stop at another floor, or go straight to your destination, or if it does stop, what kind of person will be waiting there for you. What sort of person will you be forced to share that enclosed space with? The people that I imagine are smelly, old, fat, or all three. That's just my luck.

Normally, I pray for the ride to end quickly. Not now. Not this time. I want this ride to never end, the sole reason being the man squeezed in next to me.

Adam Lambert.

His name still sounded delicious in my head, even though we were suffering from one of the most awkward of all awkward silences, you know, where you basically just insulted the character of the man you're in love with while simultaneously trying to suppress the fantasies growing in your head and worrying about the fact that you're practically drooling on him and there's no way to know when you're both going to be set free from the broken elevator and go your separate ways even though you and him both know that you're going to be watching and recording his every move on stage later that night… you know, that kind.

It appeared that even Adam, the most eloquent man in the world as far as I was concerned (not really saying much- at the time, my world was a small metal box), was starting to be affected by the atmosphere. He was just kind of looking away, pretending this wasn't the most painful experience of his life. Even though it killed me to know that I was the reason for his discomfort, I couldn't help but enjoy the moment a little bit. With him not looking directly at me, I could seriously check him out without holding back all that much. Well, yes, I was holding back because all I wanted to do was throw my arms around him and kiss him and make it all better, but I thought that may have been a tad out of line. I had to settle for ravaging him with my eyes while he was turned slightly away.

Undeniably, it was his hair that was the most attention-grabbing. If you could only catch a glimpse of him for a fraction of a nanosecond, it would be the hair that caught your eye. I savored all of the spiky multihued odds and ends all over his head freely, letting my eyes wander down the curve of his neck, linger a bit at his exposed chest, drifting over the gym-toned arms, striving to penetrate the thin fabric of his t-shirt and failing miserably, relishing in the tautness of his jeans, the length of his legs, the conspicuous size of his very large, very noticeable…

Whoooooa there. Hold up. This is not happening. I'm not succumbing to my own little fantasy world while the poor man is standing right next to me! Come on! I'm better than that!!

Get a grip… There. Respect the man… Goddammit! How do I 'respect' someone so fucking sexy?!

I was about to force my gaze away from Adam entirely when his belt buckle caught my eye. What is that?… I couldn't tell. I tilted my head for a better view. Was that a skull? Hmm, there's lettering around it… What does that say? Even though it was huge by belt buckle standards, it was hard to make out all of the details because of the reflections off the glitter and the diamonds and the silver and the fierceness. I leaned in slightly. I could almost make out a word… something about… life? Love? Loud? I was squinting and really leaning forward when I heard a throat clearing…

"Ahem… is, uuh, something wrong?…" I glanced up at Adam's puzzled, slightly uncomfortable expression when reality once again slapped me in the face. I had just been very intently ogling his crotch.

Kill me now.

I could only stare at his face as my mouth dropped open, stammering… "I… uh… oh my god! I… oh shit… I'm…"

My face. It was on fire.

What the fuck was I supposed to say?! "Oh, sorry about that! I wasn't actually staring at your crotch. I was just trying to read your belt buckle!" Because he would definitely believe that.

What should I have done?! Adam was staring at me, a little disgusted I thought, I mean, who wouldn't be? I just finished having the most terrible sort-of conversational exchange EVER, embarrassed the both of us, made Adam Lambert, the most well-spoken man in the history of forever, feel awkward, and now he thought I was imagining myself in his pants while standing right next to him. And all I was doing was reading his belt buckle. I hadn't even been thinking about what lay an inch lower, but clearly, Adam thought that I had.

There was no way I could fix this… so I did what any teenage girl would do.

I started sobbing hysterically.

Even through my tear-soaked gaze, I could see he was extremely taken aback. If there was a picture definition of WTF, then his face right then would be right next to it. I put my hands over my face. This was a fucking nightmare. He probably thought I was mentally impaired. I didn't blame him.

I don't know how long I just stood there in the broken elevator, blubbering and smearing my makeup all over the place. It could've been seconds, it could've been days, but it didn't matter. It was mortifying any way you looked at it. All I know is that after some amount of time elapsed, I felt strong arms encircling my shoulders, followed by a warm body being pressed against my side, overwhelming me with a cool, sexy fragrance of cologne. It took me until he started shushing me and murmuring "there, there" in my ear that I finally comprehended the fact that holyfuckingshitAdamLambertishuggingmeohmygawdwhyamIcrying? I froze, my breath caught in my throat, when he started petting my hair. My senses were overloading. I had each and every single one of my dreams, right there with me, wrapping me in his arms, and I was crying… How did any of this make any sense?

I guessed I owed him an explanation. When I finally calmed down enough to take a deep, shuddering breath, I looked up at him and declared in a clear, somber voice, "I was not looking at your crotch. I was looking at your belt buckle."

Pause. Absolutely blank stare. Searching eyes. Hmmm. This couldn't be good…

It took a while, but finally, he understood. Well, actually, no, he probably didn't understand. I didn't even understand what was going on. Something just clicked, and his eyes brightened, and he pulled me into a super-tight hug that felt like being enveloped into a giant pillow, only with sexy muscles that squeeze you, only you feel like your floating on a cloud and drowning in his scent except for it's nice, really nice… you just want to stay there forever. I know I did.

I belatedly realized that he was shaking… why was he doing that? Oh god, I didn't make him cry too, did I?!

…Wait. He's laughing. My sluggish mind finally recognized that Adam Lambert was laughing his ass off. At me. And I wasn't even offended. There's something seriously wrong with me…

Time is weird when you're trapped in an elevator. Or maybe it's just the presence of Adam. I wouldn't know; I've never experienced one without the other. However, I still cannot recall how long I spent in his arms, feeling the laughter in his chest reverberate through our bodies before I grasped the thought that he was laughing at me crying! Shouldn't I have at least been a little pissed? That's what a normal person would feel like, but hey, what do I know about normal?

I swatted playfully at his chest, muttering, "S'not funny!" and putting on my best pout.

He giggled a little, reminding me of the last time he made that sound, so long ago… Well, that's how it seemed.

"I know, Liz, it's not funny. It's not." He said my name!!! He spoke sincerely, but still with a grin in his voice. The words 'jolly old soul' popped unbidden into my mind as we both stood, me blissfully wrapped in his loving embrace as he rocked a little from side to side, humming and smiling a little, that soothing smile that said he understood, that it was all okay. And it was. Because he was happy, and I was happy, and what could possibly be better than feeling happy in the arms of a happy Adam Mitchel Lambert?

By the way, all of the elevator experiences listed in the first paragraph or so are completely true. I now avoid elevators at beach hotels for fear of creepy old men in speedos. Just thought you should know :)

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