I should have known it would come to this. The last three years have been too perfect. Too … normal. Life is safer on the road, where instability is comfort.
This is what betrayal feels like. Like someone’s just thrown my heart in the blender and set it on a slow grind. My daddy has mutilated my heart.
And I, apparently, watch too many horror films.
Suddenly, an unfamiliar voice breaks through my thoughts.
“Are you okay?”
I jump and swivel to find the source of the strange voice, but there’s an echo and I’m not sure where to look. My heart rate spikes and my nails dig into the ratty seat that once provided so much comfort.
“Up here!” the voice calls. It sounds like it belongs to a teenage boy.
I look up. The outline of a face peers back at me between the stairs. Someone is there. Watching me. Listening to me.
I should be scared.
“W-what are you doing?” I call out, hoping it’s anger he hears over the rattling in my chest. “No one is allowed back here.”
The boy chuckles. “Well, then you know why. I’m a rebel. And so are you.”
I’m not sure how he managed to sneak backstage. Security at the Aragon is tighter than most venues I’ve been to. And at just fifteen years old, I’ve been to most of them.
“Are you here for the show?” I ask, cringing. Why else would he be here?
“Not really. You?”
“Not really,” I mimic his nonchalance. Of course I’m here for the show. I’m always here for the shows. I practically live here, but that’s none of his business.
“If you’re done crying, you can come with me.”
I glare into the darkness. Rude. And a little bit creepy, honestly. He may have piqued my interest, but I won’t hide my distrust. “Where are you going?”
“It’s a surprise. Come up here and I’ll show you.”
Isn’t that what serial murderers say before they lock their victims up and torture them slowly? My heart is pounding. It should be fear beating itself out of me, screaming for me to run and find my dad. But it’s something else.
Something dangerous.
“Who are you?”
“I’m someone who is about to blow your mind and make you forget whatever it was you were just crying about. I already have, haven’t I?”
There’s a tug at the corner of my lips. His arrogance is both distasteful and amusing.
I push away from the couch and walk slowly to the stairs. The boy is there, still blanketed in darkness, but a dim light from above illuminates his face. He appears to be about my age. And he’s smiling. Or maybe smirking—I can’t tell. His eyes are kind, and his posture reveals a natural confidence that’s almost calming.
There’s something about his expression too—something that reminds me of … me. Not even the dark can conceal the loneliness behind his rough edges. Maybe even some anger. Or maybe it’s his dark brown hair, styled into a fauxhawk, that gives him an edge. Whatever it is tugs at my curiosity.
“Well,” I say to him with an exaggerated shrug and a step forward. “What’s this surprise?”
He extends a hand, never lifting his eyes from mine. When I fail to accept it right away, he raises a brow as a challenge.
I look down and stare at his offering, conflicted. This is beyond strange, and so unlike me to even consider his offer. But I also feel the wave of excitement roll through me, drowning out all reason—and because of that incorrigible rush of adrenaline, I place my hand in his.
He turns and leads me up the stairs to the roof, and when we reach the top, he opens the door with a rusty metal key. Sounds of the city blast us as he steps outside first, propping the door open with his back and letting me slip past him. Adrenaline surges through me, pushing me forward, overriding every alarm screaming in my subconscious.
“How did you get that?” I gesture to the key in his hand, unsure if he can hear the shakiness in my voice beneath the blare of nighttime traffic.
“I stole it.”
At least he’s honest.
He’s still holding my hand when the door slams behind us. I jump again, warming immediately when I hear his low chuckle.
We step out onto the roof and I see the rest of the space. It’s wide and open, not much to it. I start to pause, but the boy continues to pull me toward the edge of the roof. My heart seizes in my chest and I try to plant my heels into the cement. This is as far as I want to go.
He tugs on my hand again. “Come on.”
I think my heart just might be pumping hard enough to push its way out my throat. I can’t do heights. My feet become heavy, and by the time we’re a few feet from the edge, they become anchors tethering me in place. The boy turns to face me, a look of admonishment on his face at my resistance.
And then he sees me. Recognizes my fear. I watch as the rough edges of his features soften once more. He steps closer. When he wraps his arms around me, his warmth shocks me. The boy is caring, and the heart beating against the wall of his dark gray cable-knit sweater is loud. Strong. Good.
I’m shaking in his arms, but it’s no longer because we’re near the edge of the roof. “Geez, girl. Okay, okay, no pressure.”
After a few seconds, my breathing returns to normal, but I don’t pull away. I'm too afraid to see how close we are to the edge. As if reading my mind, he pulls me toward the center of the rooftop and releases me. We sit facing each other, the moonlight casting a faint glow on us both.
He eyes me curiously. “Are you afraid of heights?”
I nod as I take in a long pull of air through my nose.
“Okay.” He draws the word out, thinking. “Do you want to tell me why you were crying down there?”
For a second, my thoughts collide into each other. I’m unsure of how much I really want to tell him. He’s been nice up until this point, but I don’t even know him. I do know that he dresses and smells too nice to be a runaway. And for some reason, I can’t seem to forget the warmth of his hold.
I swallow. I think I can tell him the truth. He may be the first person I’ve ever confided in about my parents, but if I’m going to talk to someone about it, why not a stranger? He can judge me all he wants, and I never have to see him again.
“My dad is sending me to live with my mother.”
“And you don’t like her.” It’s not a question.
My jaw hardens. “I like it here.”
“I don’t blame you.”
Our eyes travel away from each other, past the exterior wall of the roof and toward the Chicago skyline. In our silence, with the sounds of traffic humming four stories below, a calm washes over me. I’m terrified of what comes next for me. I’m angry that I’ve been given no choice. But in this moment, I let it all go. Thanks to this strange boy who dragged me to a rooftop to cheer me up.
Everything about him so far has surprised me. He gets it. At least that’s how it seems. And now that I’m allowing myself to steal longer glances, I can see that he’s cute. Definitely boyfriend material, at least in his looks. Still figuring out the personality, though.
“How did you know you could get up here, anyway? I know the hidden spaces of this place better than anyone, but I’ve had three years to explore.” I narrow my eyes at him—as if that will do anything. He’s already lured me up here and become familiar with too many of my weaknesses.