“N-No!”
“I’ll be holding you the entire time.” Harlow refused to let fear poison his voice. Simon needed him to be strong. “All you need to do is grab onto the bars again when I tell you to, okay? When you do, you’re going to need to hold them as tightly as you can. Once you’re up as far as I can get you, I’ll be able to stand up and tug you back over the railing, but you’re going to have to support yourself for a few seconds while I get back on my feet.”
It seemed hearing the plan gave Simon courage. “Okay.”
“Gonna start by getting a better grip on you, then. Everything’s okay. We’re still fine.” Harlow let go of Simon with one hand, pulling it back through the slot so he could reposition it. It took little more than a second, but when Harlow’s hand closed around Simon’s arm, relief flooded him. The more secure Simon was, the better. “There. Step one, done. Easy, right? The rest is going to go just as smoothly. Now that I’ve got you, I’m going to lift you up. This is the part where you’re going to have to let go of your grip, and then grab on again when I tell you to. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” Simon whimpered, sounding unsure. “I’m ready.”
“Then here we go.”
Harlow didn’t doubt his physical strength—pulling Simon’s dead weight was well within his capabilities. What frightened him were the unknowns. What if Justin were to try something? What if Prince wasn’t the man Harlow thought he was, and he burst onto the scene and interrupted? What if, terrified and well within his right to be, Simon started to sweat, and it slicked his skin to the point that he slid out from Harlow’s grasp?
Fear had never gotten Harlow anywhere, and he refused to entertain it now. No matter what obstacles he faced, he wouldn’t fail. He wouldn’t let this be the end—Simonwouldbe safe.
Resolute in his goal, Harlow clenched his teeth and lifted Simon up, fighting the pull of gravity to bring Simon to safety. Out of necessity, Simon released the baluster, but he kept his hands loosely curled around the metal, ready to latch on again once Harlow could lift him no higher. Harlow’s muscles burned, protesting his lack of warm-up, but he refused to let the pain stop him from what he needed to do. There were worse pains than pulled tendons, and as Harlow looked down past Simon at the drop at the middle of the spiral center of the stairwell, he understood that better than ever.
Higher.Higher.
Finally, arms trembling, he reached the point where he could lift Simon no farther. “Grab on tight.”
Simon’s hands tightened in a death grip. He’d gained substantial ground, just like Harlow had hoped—enough that Harlow would be able to bend over the railing and grab him.
“I’m going to need you to hold position while I get up, okay?” Harlow kept his grip on Simon while he spoke. He’d continue to support him until the last second. “It won’t be long, I promise. You cando this.”
“I can do this,” Simon echoed, slightly more certain than before. “I candothis. I’m… I’m ready.”
“Then I’m letting go in three.” Harlow readied himself to spring to his feet. “Two.” He prepared himself to fold over the railing and pull with everything he had. “One.”
Harlow let go.
Simon gasped and slid down a fraction of an inch, but corrected his course and locked himself in place. While he did, Harlow vaulted to his feet and leaned over the railing. He grabbed Simon’s arms from his new position and pulled. Simon let go, then grabbed onto the top of the railing the moment he could. Feet kicking and scrambling, he found traction in the spaces between the balusters and flung his leg over, almost clocking Harlow in his haste. Harlow didn’t let him go. Holding onto one of Simon’s arms, he stepped back, then tugged Simon to him once he’d safely maneuvered both feet onto the landing. Adrenaline deserted him and left him drained, head spinning.
Simon had almost died. If things had been even a little different, if Simon hadn’t had such sharp reflexes, and if Harlow hadn’t been there to rescue him…
“Fuck, Simon,” Harlow uttered. He buried his face against the top of Simon’s head, inhaling the notes of jasmine and petrichor that he’d come to associate with Simon, and Simon alone. “Oh, fuck… I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“Who… whowasthat?” Simon asked, his voice small. “I thought that it was Bastian, but… but it wasn’t. Was that Bastian’s new boyfriend?”
Harlow scoffed. “No. No, that little shit is one of Evie’s coworkers.”
“An actor?” Simon asked, appalled. “What would he be doing here? Why would he do that to me?”
“I don’t know,” Harlow admitted. “But I’m canceling our flight, and I’m going to find out.”
