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Elias lifts his shoulder. “Riley and I can watch from the ground. If that’s cool with you?”
I look at her, seeing if that’s what she wants, and she gives me a subtle nod. “Yeah. That’s totally cool. Just don’t leave Ry alone, okay?”
“Of course not.” He places a hand around her waist, and I know she’s in good hands.
“Be safe,” Riley says to me as I ascend the ladder.
“You, too.”
I reach the top and stand tall. I’m able to see Riley and Elias walking closely together and it makes me smile. Riley deserves those butterflies I know she’s feeling.
Jagger comes out of nowhere, startling me. “You made it.”
He looks warm in a pair of straight-legged black jeans, combat boots, and a navy blue BCA hoodie. His brunet hair is sprinkled with flakes of snow that glimmer as he comes closer.
With a slow swag and a sway, he continues toward me.
“Yeah. Decided to see if the guys have to endure as much turmoil as I do.”
“Baby,” he says, sweeping an arm around my waist, “you ain't seen nothing yet.” He pulls me close, and I immediately smell the liquor seeping from his pores.
I give him a gentle nudge back, so I can look at his eyes. They’re bloodshot and glossed over. “Are you drunk?”
“Little bit. You?”
“No. I had a small sip on the way over, but it did nothing for me,” I say, placing a hand on his back, leading him away from the edge. “We should sit down.”
Jagger laughs boisterously as if I’m being funny. He pulls away from my touch and stands directly in front of me. His fingers sweep through my hair, and he tucks it behind my ear. “How did such a pretty girl like you end up on our bad side?” His body sways some more, but he’s sturdy enough to stay on his feet.
“You’re definitely drunk and you really should sit down.”
“I’m serious, Scar. Why couldn’t you just stay away all these years? Maybe then Neo wouldn’t want you here so badly just to fuck with you.”
He’s talking too much, but his drunk words could actually prove to be beneficial—if I can keep him from falling off the side of the building, that is.
“We can talk about this all you want if you’ll please just come sit down.”
“Fine,” he bellows, grabbing my hand and pulling me across the rooftop. Our fingers tangle together and my heart gallops.
We step around a wind turbine and a couple box vents on our quest to get to the other side.
Once we’re there, I spot a plaid BCA-colored blanket near the edge, facing the football field, and on top it is a half-empty bottle of whiskey.
“Did you drink all that yourself?”
Jagger grins. “Yep. Want some?” He bends at the waist, still holding my hand, and picks it up.
“Maybe later,” I say to appease him. Truth is, I will not be drinking this far off the ground, and he shouldn’t be either. It’s an accident waiting to happen.
Releasing his hand, I kneel down on the blanket, hoping he’ll come down, too. “It’s a nice view.”
“The field’s empty now, but wait until you see what they’re about to do out there.”
Finally, he drops down beside me. Well, it’s more of a flop onto his side. His head is near the edge of the building and his legs are stacked beside me. With a hand pressed to his head, he looks at me. “Oh, Scar,” he tsks.
Grinning, I mock him. “Oh, Jagger.”
He cackles. “You’re something else, you know that? Always giving us a hard time.”
