I went first — window, drainpipe, the scrape of the overhang edge against my palms — and made it look easier than it was.
Cassian got stuck halfway up the drainpipe and refused to admit it.
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve been on that pipe for thirty seconds.”
“I’m strategizing.”
I lay flat on the overhang and reached my arm down.
He looked at it.
Looked at me.
“I don’t need —”
“Cassian.”
He grabbed my hand.
I pulled. He pushed. There was a moment where we were both laughing too hard to do anything useful and he nearly took me down with him and then suddenly he was up, half on top of me, both of us breathless and ridiculous on a strip of roof in the dark.
He was laughing.
Really laughing.
Face close. Breath warm. His hand still in mine from the pull up.
I became aware of every single point of contact, against my will.
“Come on,” I managed. “The flat part’s better.”
• • •
We settled with our backs against the slant, legs stretched out, the neighborhood spread below us.
He’d brought snacks from somewhere — gas station contraband,thekindmymomwould’vequietly confiscated. Sour candy. Chips. Something fluorescent orange that defied classification.
The sky was doing something extraordinary.
All amber and deep blue at the edges, the first stars coming through in the middle. The kind of sky that makes you feel small in the right way.
Like the universe is reminding you it’s still running even when your life feels like it isn’t.
We ate without talking for a while.
The silences were never uncomfortable.
That was one of my favorite things about him. The silences were never uncomfortable. With anyone else I’d be filling them, performing, making sure no one noticed the gap.
With Cassian the quiet just sat between us like something familiar. Like it had always lived there.
• • •
I would remember this moment for the rest of my life.
That’s the thing about the good ones — you know them while they’re happening.
