against me. I only just resist reaching out to pull him closer. I’m alarmed at how much I’d like to know how many more tattoos he has under his shirt.
“All in good time,” he says, his breath warm against my ear. I’m so dizzy from the sudden rush that I’m not sure whether he’s answering my question or the thoughts in my head.
We ride for a while and I look out the window, spotting the river at the end of the roads we pass. Before long, the bus hisses to a stop and Ezra tugs my sleeve. We get off on a street lined with fancier lofts than Audrey and I could afford on both our salaries combined.
“Come on,” Ezra says before bounding off. I do my best to follow, holding my hood in place to keep it from falling back.
We round a corner and I realize we’re on the outskirts of the Pearl District. The sounds of nightlife surround us, and I see dozens of lights lining the road while crowds bustle by, holding cups of six dollar coffee and designer purses. We pass by a few art galleries and my heart jumps into my throat. I hope he’s not planning on breaking into one.
Ezra cuts a left and leads us away from the busiest streets toward a quieter area that hasn’t been renovated yet. In a comfortable silence, we pass a few warehouses and an old railway yard before he stops next to a fire escape.
He flicks his eyes upward and I follow his gaze. Are we going to climb this thing? Like, to the roof ? The warehouse we’ve stopped next to is easily three stories high.
“What do you say we give the future owner a conversation piece?” he says. Then he readjusts his backpack, grabs the ladder, and starts climbing.
I gulp as I look up after him. I’m not afraid of heights, exactly, but I don’t really love the idea of falling off a rusty fire escape ladder. This is the point where my brain would normally be instructing me to run away, but the wheedling, critical voice in my head is mysteriously absent tonight. Maybe Ezra’s chased it off.
I swallow the butterflies in my stomach and grab hold of the cold metal. Whatever’s at the top will be worth it. I hope.
Don’t look down, don’t look down.
By the time I reach the top, all my muscles are twitching with adrenaline. It’s hard to catch my breath. Ezra leans down to offer me a hand up. As I lace my fingers with his, the coil that’s been tightening in my abdomen all night tenses even more. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take before it springs.
I clamber over the lip of the roof and his hand goes to my waist to keep me from falling. Breathless, I catch his gaze, lost in his half-lidded eyes, buzzing with the rush. We’re inches apart and he’s starting to close the distance.
“Thanks,” I say, stepping carefully back. Something in me deflates from the distance, but he’s too close. And he’s not close enough.
Damn, my brain’s a mess. I rub my arms up and down, trying to work my nervousness out through my palms. I’m shaking with the combination of being near Ezra and up so high above the city, but I try to hide it as best I can.
Ezra tilts his head toward the far edge of the roof, signaling for me to follow. He puts a foot up on the barrier for balance and peers over to the street below. I may be wired as hell and high on endorphins, but I can’t bring myself to join him. Don’t look down—isn’t that the conventional wisdom?
“It’s peaceful up here, right?” he says, turning around to look at me. “The galleries are closed for the night and no one goes to that park this late. It’s just you and me.”
I inch forward enough to see the small park in view of the roof. From here, the streets are quiet, a hush settled across them like a blanket. Even the pedestrians out tonight look like ants, peaceful and very far away. He’s right. The city is ours.
When I look over my shoulder, I notice an outcropping of the building that’s raised above the rest. It’s the perfect canvas.
Ezra drops his bag to the ground with a soft
“All in good time,” he says, his breath warm against my ear. I’m so dizzy from the sudden rush that I’m not sure whether he’s answering my question or the thoughts in my head.
We ride for a while and I look out the window, spotting the river at the end of the roads we pass. Before long, the bus hisses to a stop and Ezra tugs my sleeve. We get off on a street lined with fancier lofts than Audrey and I could afford on both our salaries combined.
“Come on,” Ezra says before bounding off. I do my best to follow, holding my hood in place to keep it from falling back.
We round a corner and I realize we’re on the outskirts of the Pearl District. The sounds of nightlife surround us, and I see dozens of lights lining the road while crowds bustle by, holding cups of six dollar coffee and designer purses. We pass by a few art galleries and my heart jumps into my throat. I hope he’s not planning on breaking into one.
Ezra cuts a left and leads us away from the busiest streets toward a quieter area that hasn’t been renovated yet. In a comfortable silence, we pass a few warehouses and an old railway yard before he stops next to a fire escape.
He flicks his eyes upward and I follow his gaze. Are we going to climb this thing? Like, to the roof ? The warehouse we’ve stopped next to is easily three stories high.
“What do you say we give the future owner a conversation piece?” he says. Then he readjusts his backpack, grabs the ladder, and starts climbing.
I gulp as I look up after him. I’m not afraid of heights, exactly, but I don’t really love the idea of falling off a rusty fire escape ladder. This is the point where my brain would normally be instructing me to run away, but the wheedling, critical voice in my head is mysteriously absent tonight. Maybe Ezra’s chased it off.
I swallow the butterflies in my stomach and grab hold of the cold metal. Whatever’s at the top will be worth it. I hope.
Don’t look down, don’t look down.
By the time I reach the top, all my muscles are twitching with adrenaline. It’s hard to catch my breath. Ezra leans down to offer me a hand up. As I lace my fingers with his, the coil that’s been tightening in my abdomen all night tenses even more. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take before it springs.
I clamber over the lip of the roof and his hand goes to my waist to keep me from falling. Breathless, I catch his gaze, lost in his half-lidded eyes, buzzing with the rush. We’re inches apart and he’s starting to close the distance.
“Thanks,” I say, stepping carefully back. Something in me deflates from the distance, but he’s too close. And he’s not close enough.
Damn, my brain’s a mess. I rub my arms up and down, trying to work my nervousness out through my palms. I’m shaking with the combination of being near Ezra and up so high above the city, but I try to hide it as best I can.
Ezra tilts his head toward the far edge of the roof, signaling for me to follow. He puts a foot up on the barrier for balance and peers over to the street below. I may be wired as hell and high on endorphins, but I can’t bring myself to join him. Don’t look down—isn’t that the conventional wisdom?
“It’s peaceful up here, right?” he says, turning around to look at me. “The galleries are closed for the night and no one goes to that park this late. It’s just you and me.”
I inch forward enough to see the small park in view of the roof. From here, the streets are quiet, a hush settled across them like a blanket. Even the pedestrians out tonight look like ants, peaceful and very far away. He’s right. The city is ours.
When I look over my shoulder, I notice an outcropping of the building that’s raised above the rest. It’s the perfect canvas.
Ezra drops his bag to the ground with a soft
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