Page 15 of Chase
It’s him.
The bartender.
I’m leaning on a half-wall in the shadows, out of his view. An orange-red neon sign casts a pool of light from a nearby building, and he steps forward into the glow, toward the edge of the roof. We’re on the twentieth floor and the air is whipping his waves to one side of his head.
I stay hidden. I don’t even want tothinktonight, let alone speak to a stranger who makes me feel too many things.
He's upset. Clearly.
Who hurt you?
He reaches out with the toe of his black boot and kicks a leaf over the edge, his leg going out over the open air for a moment, 20 fucking stories above the city.
I get a molten feeling in my knees and deep in my stomach.
Okay, so you’re insane.
He sits down right on the end of the roof and his long legs dangle off the goddamn side of the building, pressing his palms behind him on the low ledge and turning his head up to the night sky.
I can’t take it anymore.
I have to move.
“You shouldn’t be doing that,” I call out, my voice echoing slightly as I walk over toward him, stepping into the neon light.
He keeps his body leaned back as he turns his head, frowning at me like I’m the intruder.
“Didn’t come up here for company.”
I nod toward the ledge. “Neither did I. Did you come up to be one bad move away from death?”
He realizes it’s me and his expression softens a little. But he’s still upset. He lets out a sigh, turning back toward the city. His neck is smooth and pale, and his necklaces glint in the light.
Everything about him is unpredictable in a way that puts me on edge. I feel like my body is suddenly hooked up to the electrical grid.
He can’t possibly be about to jump, right?
“I wanted to be alone.” He stresses the last word as he cuts me another look.
“Sorry,” I tell him, but I don’t step away.
He moves to rake a hand through his hair, then leans back on his elbows. His sudden movement sends a fresh jolt of fear through me becauseholy hell, one wrong movement and you’re splattered on the concrete, kid, do you have some sort of deathwish?
On instinct, I step forward and reach in front of his shoulder.
“Chill out,” he says, swatting my hand away and sighing. “What are you, nighttime security patrol?”
“Be more careful,” I tell him. “Maybe I was just scared shitless I was about to see you become a bloodstain on the street.”
“If I move, will you leave me alone?”
“Yes. Please. Just get up slowly.”
He swings one of his boots back up onto the cement with a total lack of self-preservation. I reach down and grip his arm, and I refuse to let go until he’s standing again.
He takes a step away from the edge, and then another when I widen my eyes, squeezing his arm.
“I’m fine.”
