LOOKOUT

PART 6 - ROOFTOPS

Aubrey's still sitting incredibly close to me with his arm lazily draped over my shoulder. "I'm sorry, I forgot we kissed," I say. My face goes hot, I blocked out a lot of things from the past few years, but I didn't think kissing him would be one of those things. He turns to me then and pulls me closer. I look up at him and our eyes meet, our noses are nearly touching. Instinctively, I inhale sharply. It's so quiet, the music that was booming loudly across the apartment earlier is now turned off, or maybe playing quietly, I wasn't sure. All I can see is Aubrey's face; his brown eyes, his small nose that was covered in freckles, and his pink lips that are a bit shiny, I notice. It looks like lip gloss. I feel goosebumps rise on my arms.

"Do you still smoke?" He asks abruptly.

I nod slowly. "Yeah," I say. He hums and then gets up. "Good, well not good, you know what I mean. Come on," he says, extending an arm out to me. I hold his hand and he pulls me up gently. Without letting go of my hand, we walk to the front door. "Wear your shoes," he says. A bit confused, I wear my combat boots quickly, not bothering to tie them up properly. Once Aubrey finishes wearing his shoes, he reaches out and grabs my hand again. He unlocks the door and closes it behind him. Then he takes me up a few more flights of stairs. "Where are we going?" I ask. He just shakes his head. "Just trust me, you'll love it," he says. "I trust you," I say. He laughs like I said something dumb. I'm not sure what was funny, but I smile too. Finally, after walking four flights of stairs, we reach a big black door. He pushes it open and drags me in.

It's cold outside, my skin prickling because of the sudden rush of cold. It's very dark, nearly pitch black, yet from the rooftop, I can hear the blaring noise of cars and see the lights from all the other buildings, reminding me of how lively New York is. "You'd never get this much noise at this time in Edinburgh," he says. I nod. "Y'know," he looks over at me. "I was so sure I'd get used to being here after living in London. I thought: Hey, how different can New York be?" He says. I let out a laugh. "Yeah, yeah. I know," he says. "New York and London are very different," I say. He nods.

A cool breeze hits us, and I reflexively hug myself, shivering a little. I was so dazed when he grabbed my hand that I had forgotten to grab my jacket. It was long and lined with fur on the inside, and I wish I had grabbed it. He looks at me before quickly reaching for his grey hoodie to take it off. "What are you doing?" I ask. "You're cold," he says, his voice muffled from under the hoodie. He removes it and under his hoodie, he is wearing a thin white tank top. "No, then you'll be all cold," I say. He shakes his head and hands it to me. "You're kidding, you're too thin, wear it." He says. I stare at him. "C'mon, I run hot anyway. Please?" he says. He cups my face with his hand to prove a point, and I realize just how warm he is. I sigh and take the hoodie from him, putting it on. I can't lie, I feel a lot warmer under the giant shirt. I blush when I realize it smells like him. It's like I'm being hugged by Aubrey. That thought makes me blush harder. "Thanks," I mutter, and he smiles at me.

He reaches for his pocket and grabs his cigarette pack and lighter. He takes out two cigarettes and hands one to me. I take it, slender fingers placing it against my lips. He moves closer and brings the lighter towards me, I lean in, and he lights it for me before lighting his own. I take a sneaky glance at him then. He takes a slow drag from the cigarette, tilting his head back and leaning against the railing. The breeze returns and causes his gelled-up hair to move slightly out of place, strands framing his face. He runs his hand through his long hair and pushes it back. Usually, I think of Aubrey as cute or beautiful. Right now, I think he looks really cool, like one of those men you see on the cover of Rolling Stone. He looks over at me then and I can see how intensely he's looking at me, even in the dark.

"We kissed the first time while we were out having a smoke, remember?" He says suddenly. I squint my eyes, as I try to recall the memory. "Vaguely," I admit. Admittedly it all feels like a blur sometimes, my time at university. Some days I can remember every detail, and other times I can barely remember the names of my then flatmates. I didn't want to tell him any of this though. He takes another drag and I follow suit. He inhales, looks at me, and then blows out the smoke in a slow breath. "You had just broken up with that dickhead," he starts. "You came downstairs after fighting him and I was having a smoke," he says. He runs his hand through his hair again. "I asked you what was wrong, and you said nothing. Then I gave you a cigarette and we talked about the Critical Theory exam we had that day," He chuckles. He takes another drag and exhales after a few seconds. "Then I leaned in and kissed you," he says, a small smile playing on his lips. I smile, too. Sometimes, I wish we dated. I think he'd be quite good for me.