I wasn’t sure what I’d expected to find. The whole world altered? The whole world falling apart? There was nothing. Just the same old billboards, one posted on top of the other. Red and white.
The street below was lamppost-yellow and busy with people returning home. A woman around my age was hopping off her bicycle, her red scarf blowing in the wind as she turned her gaze skyward. The moon was unreal, huge, and bleary with swirls of gray clouds. It didn’t even look like a moon but a giant balloon that was about to slip out of night’s hands and float out of sight and into the dark, never to be seen again.
The woman’s eyes darted my way, and with a giant smile, she waved at me. I had never met her before. But that didn’t matter here. Here, we were all connected.
When I went back inside, there was only one thing I felt like doing. I picked up my phone, flipped it open, and called Kai back.
He answered after the third ringback. “Anya?”
“Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Chapter Four
Sullivan’s was squeezed at the back of a paved alley, and from the shuddering windowpane carved deep into the stone facade of the building, I could see that it was teeming with people, red-hued lights glazing over ruddy, drunken faces.
For a while, I only stood there, watching Kai from afar, while the cool night air lapped over me in slow, sensual sweeps. He was leaning against one of the tall stools that circled the bar, not separate from his company but withdrawn somehow, his gaze unfocused and his hands mindlessly busy with shutting and flipping open his phone.
Then, as though he’d sensed my presence, he turned around and looked directly at me. With the corners of his mouth already smiling, he made his way through the crowd, and when he pushed the door open, an ocean of noise was released into the alley along with a gust of oppressive heat.
His shirt was untucked from his trousers, his black hair messy, his face flushed and a little damp. He looked like a tipsy college boy.
“You’re not drunk, are you?” I teased him, dragging out the syllables, although I could never make words sound as smooth as he did.
He shook his head in a funny, self-deprecating way, rubbing a hand over his nape. “No, I promise. I only had one beer. You want one too?”
Heaving a sigh, I bent back my neck and squinted at the patch of sky showing between the two buildings. “I want quiet. Just not home quiet. Does that make any sense?”
“As much as anything,” he said, nodding for me to follow.
Inside, it was loud and fever-warm, the atmosphere electric, and Kai caught my hand in his so we wouldn’t get separated in the crowd. It occurred to me that we had never touched before, intentionally or accidentally, and I found myself weirdly invigorated by the foreign strength of his hand around mine. A crackle of sensation passed over the lengths of my fingers, my span of awareness narrowing to that spot where our bodies connected.
Out of politeness we stopped by his table, although everyone was too drunk to pay any attention to us. Kai ordered another beer and a glass of wine for me, settled the bill, grabbed his coat from the hook under the bar, and told me to follow him. Once again we waded through the crowd until we finally reached the narrow staircase leading up to the roof, which was available to the people, although not many knew about it.
The place was perfect. Unlit, wide open, and at the moment, completely unoccupied, with just the right amount of noise from the street below to drown the tide of my thoughts.
Slipping into his elegant overcoat, Kai leaned over the railing and checked the city view. “Is this alright?”
My gaze drifted upward, to the leaden sky and the smattering of stars. I didn’t think I’d ever seen stars so bright before. “Yeah, it’s beautiful up here,” I replied, and even my voice had an unfamiliar quality to it, cool and soft like rain.
“Not too quiet?”
“No.”
“Not too cold?”
It was, in fact, piercingly cold, but I was glad for it since I wouldn’t have to take off my trench coat and reveal that under it, I was wearing a straight black skirt and below-the-knee boots. That I had put on all of this conscious effort while he looked like he always did. Effortless as a heartbeat.
“It’s a little cold, but I like this kind of weather,” I admitted as I set my glass of wine down on the ledge.
Without warning, Kai shrugged off the coat he’d just put on and came to drape it over my shoulders. “Here,” he said. “That should keep you nice and warm.”
I wanted to protest. I wanted to scowl and grumble that he was going to catch a cold and that I really was fine with my trench coat, but I found myself behaving very strangely tonight, blushing and touching my hair and looking away every time our gazes crossed.
“Thank you,” I murmured, letting the strap of my bag nestle into the crook of my elbow so I could take the lapels of the coat and pull it tighter around me. It felt like him somehow. Warm and refined. “For the coat and the wine,” I added. “You didn’t have to pay for it.”
“Well, I did disturb yourbeauty sleep. The least I can do now is treat you to some wine,” he drawled, bending to leave his beer bottle next to my glass.
Not knowing what else to say, I repeated stupidly, “Thank you.”
