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not.
    Why was he having an effect on her? Why did she want to see him? Why had she enjoyed his kiss so much the previous night? This was uncharacteristic. She was usually the one driving situations, but now, here she was, on the inside of the fire door, responding to someone’s order. And there was no doubt it had been an order. He couldn’t have made it clearer.
    There was loud giggling and George heard the doors along the corridor open. People were coming. She needed to make a decision. Open the door? Or go back to the party?
    The voices were getting louder, people were approaching. She took a deep breath and pushed open the door.
    She stepped out onto the fire escape expecting Quinn to be waiting for her, like some gorgeous, brooding knight, all bolshy and irresistible. But to her dismay there was nothing but the oily black sky and the chilly air to greet her. She was on her own and suddenly she felt very stupid. What an idiot! He must think she was some sort of pathetic fan, who would let him kiss her and order her about just for the thrill of being in his presence! He’d had no intention of meeting her, it was just a game. He probably did this stuff all the time. She should have known better. She did know better.
    ‘Hey! You’re late!’
    It was him. She heard his voice but she couldn’t see him. She looked down to the bottom of the fire escape, but there was no one there, apart from two security guards stood by the doors to the Hexagon ’s back entrance.
    ‘I said you’re late. Ten minutes I said, this is almost fourteen,’ Quinn called again.
    George looked around her; she still had no idea where the voice was coming from.
    ‘Hey! Up here!’ Quinn shouted.
    George looked upwards, towards the roof of the theatre and there he was, stood on the very edge, looking down at her, a broad smile on his face.
    ‘What the Hell are you doing? Are you mad? You could fall!’ George exclaimed in horror.
    ‘Yeah, dangerous isn’t it? So, are you coming up? I have beer,’ Quinn enticed.
    He picked up two bottles and chinked them together temptingly.
    ‘How did you get up there?’ George enquired, wishing he wasn’t stood quite so close to the edge.
    ‘Same way you’re going to get up here. Give me your hand,’ Quinn ordered, leaning over the edge of the roof and holding his hand out to her.
    ‘I’m not coming up there,’ George told him, folding her arms across her chest in a show of defiance.
    She was a grown - up and in charge of catering an important function. She was not stupid enough to be climbing up on roofs at the age of thirty four.
    ‘Of course you are. You know you want to.’
    ‘I do not.’
    ‘Sure you do. Come on, live a little,’ Quinn spoke.
    George looked at the hand he was holding out and then looked down at the drop below. This was insane! One slip and it was goodbye life, hello tarmac.
    ‘Take my hand, put one foot up onto the bar there and I’ll help you. View’s great by the way,’ he said.
    George felt a rush of excitement run through her. It was dangerous, it was reckless; it was like when she was a teenager and had found all sorts of new ways to annoy her mother. She had loved rebellion and a little danger then, perhaps she had forgotten how to live for the moment.
    Quickly she took off her shoes, put one down as a wedge to keep open the fire exit door and dropped the other.
    She reached up, firmly took hold of Quinn’s hand and pulled herself up onto the metal fire escape. With another stretch and a scramble she arrived on top of the roof.
    ‘You’ve done this before,’ Quinn replied as they sat down on the tiles and he handed her a bottle of beer.
    ‘Not for a long time and only on a three storey,’ George answered, taking a much needed drink.
    ‘This is the sort of extreme length I have to go to to get away from people,’ Quinn said with a laugh.
    ‘And you enjoy every minute of it,’ George answered, looking at him.
    ‘Yes, I do,’ he replied, looking back at