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He releases me and straightens himself. Then I take my chance and rip the door open and run as fast as my liquid legs will carry me. He got to me. I’ve spent so many days planning what I’ll say to him when I see him and he still reduces me to that terrified little girl every single time.
My body is trembling, my hands shake as I grip my bag.
I want to vomit.
I might actually vomit.
I head up to my roof for solace and clarity. Feet pounding up the stairs like my heart is pounding in my ears, my throat… my entire body is my beating heart.
I think somebody calls my name but I don’t look back, I just need air and quiet.
He touched me again and I was powerless to stop him. I got cushy, I got complacent.
The door opens and slams against the brick wall. The second it does I inhale the largest breath into my tight lungs.
I run to the edge of the rooftop, coming to a standstill on the low wall that forms a barrier. My hands cup to my mouth and I scream a myriad of cusswords at the heavens. Cunt, shit-fuck, piss-fucking-hate-you-bastard-asshole-fucking-pedophile-die. Or something along those lines.
Then I sit, letting my feet dangle over the three-story drop and I cry.
I hate him.
I hate him.
“I HATE YOOOOUUUU!” I yell, punching the top of the wall with the side of my fist.
Staring, I keep breathing, keep choking and gasping for air, letting myself calm, letting the fear linger because it’s what keeps me alive.
“You’re not going to jump, are you?” Carter asks, and my head whips round to look at him edging towards me slowly.
“What are you doing here?”
“I followed you up here, I got worried when I saw you running.” He laughs a little, still edging and I know it’s because he’s scared of heights. “I thought you were going to jump.”
My vision is blurry as I watch him draw nearer, peeking over the edge and gulping. His fear is evident all over his face but he still comes closer anyway.
“And give that prick the satisfaction? No way. I’ll live until he dies… or I do.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“I can’t,” I whisper, choking on a sob as scalding tears burn trails down my cheeks.
“Come here,” he pleads, holding out his hand to me. “I’m here, but you’ve got to meet me halfway because I’m feeling really woozy right now.”
I laugh through my tears and turn away from the long drop. Standing carefully, I shuffle towards him and melt into his embrace. He’s so warm, and he smells so good.
“Your makeup is all around your eyes,” he says quietly as he hugs me and holds me like he’ll never let me go. “But it’s okay, you make an adorable panda.”
I laugh again and press my forehead to his neck. “I’m a mess, Carter. You should run away now.”
“Thanks for the warning.” He pulls back and turns away, pretending to leave but I yank him back to me.
“You’re such a dork,” I whisper and he pulls a scrunched-up tissue from his pocket, tilts my head back, and wipes the moisture away from under my eyes.
“What have you been through?” he asks quietly, still wiping at my makeup. “Talk to me.”
“Can we just kiss instead?”
Smiling, he dips his head and caresses my lips with his own.
We part for a moment and then deepen it. I hum against his mouth, letting him consume me. He knows just how to do it.
“When I’m with you,” I breathe, pulling back and placing my forehead against his, “I forget about everything else.”
“Me too.”
“I promised myself when I came here that I wouldn’t get attached or make ties. I’ve never been able to rely on anybody, but your hooks are in and really we’re just kids, and I’m terrified that you’re going to walk away from me and never look back.”
“I’ll only walk if you make me.” His hand slides up my neck to my cheek, crushing the tissue against my ear.
We kiss once more and let our lips linger.
The silence sets in and rests around both of us. He hugs me, pulling my head to his shoulder and I look out over the view, clinging tightly to him as my broken heart and soul slowly knit back together in his presence.
“Do you want to see my penis now?” he asks and I laugh properly this time, no tears at all.
I bite his lip, suck it, kiss him while still giggling, and then guide him from the rooftop.
The second the door closes behind us he collapses to his knees and gags as though needing to vomit.
“Too high?” I ask, laughing when he shudders.
He’s really scared of heights.
“Come on, let’s get you to the ground floor and find you a water bottle.”
