The rooftop was quiet, save for the occasional whisper of wind curling between the buildings. The city below pulsed with life honking cars, glowing signs, the distant rhythm of nightlife but up here, it felt like the world had paused just for them.
Avery leaned against the railing, the city lights reflecting in her eyes like tiny galaxies. "You know," she said softly, "I never thought I'd find peace in a place so loud."
Harrison stood beside her, his hands in his coat pockets, stealing glances when she wasn't looking. "It's not the city," he replied. "It's the company."
She turned to him, half-smiling. "Smooth."
He chuckled, the sound warm and low. "Was it? I was going for honest."
They stood in silence for a few moments, the kind that felt full, not awkward. The wind tugged at Avery's dark curls, brushing them across her face. Harrison reached out without thinking, gently tucking a strand behind her ear. His fingers lingered just a second too long.
Avery looked up at him, her expression unreadable. "You do that a lot," she said.
"Do what?"
"Touch me like I'm made of glass."
He hesitated. "Maybe it's because you scare me a little."
She raised a brow. "Scare you?"
"In the best way," he said. "You walk into a room and it's like… suddenly nothing else matters. That kind of power? It's terrifying."
Avery's laugh was soft, but it trembled at the edges. "You're not the only one scared, Harrison. I didn't plan on feeling anything for you. But here we are."
The air between them changed, as if the city held its breath. Harrison stepped closer. "So what now?"
Avery looked down for a moment, then back at him. Her eyes shone in the glow of the rooftop lights. "We could ruin everything," she whispered.
"Maybe," he said. "Or maybe we make it unforgettable."
That was all it took.
He leaned in slowly, giving her time to pull away. She didn't. Their lips met soft at first, almost uncertain, like a question waiting to be answered. Then deeper, warmer, a promise made in silence.
When they finally broke apart, Avery pressed her forehead to his, her breath unsteady. "You're trouble," she murmured.
"And you're worth every second of it," he replied, his voice a husky whisper.
She smiled, though a touch of sadness flickered in her eyes. "I should go. It's late."
"I'll walk you to the street," he offered, already taking her hand.
The trip down the stairs was quiet, the kind of quiet that comes after something important. Their fingers remained intertwined, like neither wanted to let go just yet.
When they reached the street, the noise of the city returned, jarring but necessary. A yellow cab slowed at the curb as if summoned by the weight of the moment.
Avery turned to him, reluctant. "Thank you for tonight."
"You don't have to thank me," he said. "Just… don't disappear."
"I won't," she promised. Then she hesitated. "But if I do… will you come find me?"
Harrison stepped closer, brushing his thumb gently along her cheek. "Always."
She kissed him once more, brief but full of meaning. Then, with one final glance, she slipped into the cab. The door closed. The engine purred. And just like that, she was gone
swallowed by the pulse of the city.
Harrison stood there for a long while, hands in his pockets again, heart still racing. The night had changed something. And whether it was the beginning or the beginning of the end, he couldn't tell.
But for the first time in a long while, he didn't feel alone.