“Yeah, I’ll wake you up,” I assured her.
“Okay.” She yawned. “Okay...”
Then she laid her head on my shoulder. She was out in less than a minute.
As I sat there in the dark, trying to stay as still as possible so I wouldn’t wake her up, I realized what a complete fucking idiot I was—not because I’d led a girl up a mountain in the pitch black while under the influence of alcohol. No, the real reason was even stupider than that.
I was an idiot because I was alone in the dark with a girl who made me feel like my chest was on fire, a girl whose lips and legs had been creeping into my thoughts way more than they should have, a girl who, until that moment, I hadn’t realized was slowly wrapping my whole life around her little finger until even the pulsing of my blood seemed to beat to the sound of her name.
I was alone in the dark with Roxanne, and Nadia was waiting for me at home.
I couldn’t breathe. The weight of her head on my shoulder was heavier than it had ever been before, but still I sat there. The sky turned from black to inky blue, and still I let her sleep.
I never had an ulterior motive for helping her at the bus station. Even when I begged Nadia to let Roxy stay with us instead of some shelter for that first night, I was only thinking of her safety. Even when I called up my old friend Monroe and asked if she had a job and maybe a couch to spare, I was only trying to help her out. Even when I checked in every few days, got to know the wild-eyed girl I found on the pavement and watched her find her feet and take on a world that tried to kick her down—even then I was just making sure she was all right.
Sitting on that hill, though, I think that’s when I first realized I never had a choice. Right or wrong, I was hers from the second I saw her.
The first flare of pink streaked across the sky. She looked so peaceful, so young slumped against my shoulder—just another reason why what I felt for her was wrong—but I knew she’d kill me if I let her miss the sunrise, so I raised my hand and brushed the hair from her forehead.
“Roxy, wake up.”
She blinked up at me. There were faint freckles splashed across her face. She still gets them every summer.
“It’s the sunrise.”
She didn’t look away. She needed to look away, or I was going to do something we’d both regret.
“You’re missing it.”
She turned towards the city. We weren’t even at the best angle to see it, but we both watched as the colours reached a crescendo and then faded as the sun finally made the skyscrapers flash and turned all the pavement gold.
Her eyes found mine. Her fingers slipped around my palm. She tugged it upwards until my fingertips brushed her temple.
“Read my mind.”
“Roxanne...”
“Read my mind,” she repeated.
Icouldread her mind. I could read its confusion, its hesitation, but most of all, I could read its want. She wanted the distance between us to close as much as I did. She wanted to feel what it was like to have my mouth on hers, to feel the grass beneath her back as I shifted my body over her. She wanted the sun to stop where it was and let us stay here long enough for everything to make sense.
But the sun couldn’t stop, and nothing made sense.
I let her keep her hand around mine and brought it to my lips. I kissed her knuckles and whispered, “Happy birthday.”
We left the mountain after that.
The walk home was easier than I expected. We somehow slipped back into our usual routine, shoving each other back and forth as we walked side by side through the streets of the Plateau. She asked me questions about my week and then made grunting noises in an effort to mock my answers. I listened to her talk about how excited she was to start serving at the bar.
We passed my place first. I wanted to make sure she got home safe, but she insisted it was already light out and there were enough people on the streets that I didn’t need to worry. I wanted to get back before Nadia woke up, so I let it go.
We were living in a shitty ground floor unit just behind Boulevard Saint-Laurent. Roxanne waved goodbye as I dug my key out and stepped inside. The ceilings in that place were so low my head barely cleared them.
I had just gotten the door shut and turned around to find Nadia getting up from where she was clearly waiting on the couch.
“It’s almost six in the morning, Cole.”
She was wearing pink pyjamas, her braids hanging loose and almost reaching her waist. Even tired and pissed off like that, she was striking.
