Page 61 of Fall For Me
I hold out my debit card, but she pushes my hand back towards me. “Your money’s no good here,” she says, slamming the window closed in my face.
I huff out a laugh and toss a few big bills into her tip jar, then plop down on the little bench beside Sean. Our eyes meet, and all it takes is a little uptick of his lips to have my core throbbing. I swallow hard and try to find something to break the tension.
“What did she say?”
“She told me I was hot and that I have beautiful hair.” He laughs, his eyes locking on mine.
I smack him on the arm and glance away. I know that’s not what she said. The tall, glass building across the street catches my attention.I know the building well. I’ve been there many times. I just wonder if I should take him up there. . .
“What’s that look about?” he asks, but before I can answer, Rosa calls my name.
Sean stands from the bench and saunters to the window to grab our food. And when Rosa turns her back, he shoves a wad of cash into the tip jar. I smile as he sidles up next to me and grab his hand, dashing across the street and pulling him along with me.
“Jaywalking. Hmm. We’re off to a great start,” he says.
“Oh, this is just a drop in the bucket.”
“Anything we do can’t be any worse than drinking Michelob Ultra with tacos instead of Modelo. That should be a fucking felony.”
“You’re such a snob,” I say with a laugh as someone walks out of the building.
I let go of Sean’s hand and run to catch the door before it closes, then peek my head in, checking to see if that grumpy old goat is sitting at the desk in the reception. I crane my neck and find him nowhere in sight, which makes me even more nervous.
“Hurry up before we get caught,” I hiss, taking Sean’s hand again and dragging him to the elevator.
“Trespassing too?”
“Are you gonna list off every single one of my offenses all night?”
“Maybe.” He smirks.
I let out a sigh of relief when we step into the elevator and the door finally closes. If I get caught here again, I’m sure they’ll throw me in the slammer. Security has already warned me twice. Why do I keep doing it? Why do I do anything? I have no idea. Maybe because I want to, or maybe it’s just that I’ve been a good girl all my life and now I enjoy a little mischief. Either way, I’m not hurting anybody.
We ride in silence, and my eyes flit up and lock on his. This longing I can’t even describe stirs deep in my chest, making my heart ache. He moves to close the distance between us, but the bell chimes, and the steel doors open. I place my hand against his chest, stopping him from stepping out of the elevator, then quickly peek my head outof the confined space, looking both ways. My heartbeat slams against my ribcage.
God, I love this feeling . . . this rush.
We slip into an office space. The only thing lighting the way is the accent light strips along the floor. This is the part I always dread the most. Every time I come in here, I get this eerie feeling. Goosebumps pebble my skin and I feel like someone’s watching me. It’s probably because of how dark the offices are and the fact that the place looks like something out of a horror flick. I walk as fast as my feet will carry me, weaving between the cubicles until we approach a hallway bathed in pitch black. A red exit sign glows above the door.
“Where are we going?” he asks, following behind me as I lead us to the end of the hall.
I turn the knob and open the door to the stairwell, taking another peek to make sure there’s no security or cleaning crew before passing though.
“Up,” I tell him as I take the first step.
My legs burn as we climb up a few flights of stairs, but the view? It’ll be completely worth it. Last time I was here, the alarm to the door was broken. Squeezing my eyes tight, I ease the bar down, praying maintenance still hasn’t fixed it. The door opens with only a creak, and a cool night air hits my face. Then the wind picks up, catching the door and slamming it back against the building.
My hair whips around, and I swipe it from my face, then peer off into the distance as I step out onto the roof with him following behind me.
“Kind of reminds me of our night in Vegas,” he says.
And he’s right; it does. I found this rooftop after we broke up, and there’s just something about this place, maybe it’s the lights . . . I don’t know . . . but when I'm up here, looking out over the city, I can’t help but think about the night in Vegas when we sat up on top of that cliff talking. I’m embarrassed to admit that I’ve spent a lot of time up here, drinking and wallowing in self-pity. Those were not my finest moments.
Setting the beer down, I turn to him. “It reminds me of Vegas too.”
“You come here often?” He asks, tilting his head to the side with his brows drawn together, as if his mind is working to make a connection.
“I used to,” I admit, cracking open a beer and handing it off to him, then I open one for myself and plop down. “But I haven’t been here in a couple of months.”
