Rooftops

Chapter 7

I wake up in my cold bed, realising that I left the window open last night.

He didn't take me home. We kissed, but everyone kisses at New Years. It means nothing.

Did he escort me home? I can't remember. Last night was a wonderful blur.

I walk downstairs to the kitchen, boiling the kettle. No slip of paper on the counter, meaning no number. Either he didn't drive me home, or he doesn't like me, like I presumed.

Then I realise that usually, my presumptions are correct. I cast the whole affair from my thoughts.

-

At work, Sue's constantly questioning me on what happened on New Years. I had originally intended to forget about him, but I find myself taking pleasure in the little slices of Benedict-related conversation.

"What did he call you again? Was it 'exceptionally beautiful'?"

Steven pretends like he doesn't know, but he's a clever guy, and I know that he is aware of it, regardless of whether Sue has said anything it or not. He likes to subtly mention snippets of what movies Benedict's in, or conversations they've had.

"You know, once Ben and I drank margaritas on the Thames," when a colleague said he bought a margarita machine.

Later one evening, I carry out my usual activities. Working on crap novels, listening to music in the bath, meditating. During my meditation session, the phone rings. I only know this because after I've reentered consciousness, I check the phone log.

I ring the number, oblivious to what's about to come.

"Hello?"

"Good evening." Of course it's him. He must've taken my number.

"Good evening, Ben. What's up?"

"A lot. I'm rather busy at the moment. I...actually wanted to phone you... I need someone to talk to." And he chose me.

"Go ahead."

He tells me how he's been rethinking his life, his choices, and how although he doesn't regret anything, he doesn't want to be living with their consequences anymore. I don't mention that I don't understand how he could've done anything wrong, and how his life could be difficult. He's reaching the peak, the height of his success, as Steven says. But he continues, explaining how he feels like he's missing something, how he wants to live, to have purpose.

I still don't say how he has great purpose, not only entertaining people but changing their lives, in small or large quantities.

"What do you think I should do?"

"I don't know why you're asking me, but I think you need to find out what's missing. Take the time to sort out your problems, but keep in mind that you're incredible. Millions would sacrifice everything they have to be in your position, have your talent and opportunity. Don't take your life for granted."

"Thank you, Heidi. You've cleared my head a bit."

"You're welcome." Silence. "Are you alright?"

"You know what? I'm okay. " I nod, forgetting that he can't see me through the telephone. But what comes next I have no knowledge of. "Do you fancy going to dinner or the theatre with me? Dinners probably best."

I have to ask. "Have you been thinking about this for a while now?"

"To be honest, not as much as I'd like to admit. Definitely since the beginning of this year."

"I'll gladly come. Thank you for asking." And I really mean it.

-

Sue deduces what has happened by my apparent change in mood, which I haven't noticed. She figures out how to get the details of the conversation from me, and though I am initially reluctant, I realise soon enough that Sue could actually help me. With how to act in a way that keeps my doors open, and little things like how to dress and what that could portray, as I don't have much experience in the field of dating, if this even classes as that.

On the night of the dinner, I try to use the time beforehand to act out a normal night, so that I don't agitate or excite myself too much. My outfit has already been picked out, so that area can't go wrong. I sit at the kitchen counter on a stool, and watch television.

Twenty minutes before he is scheduled to arrive, I allow myself to get changed. I slip on a hugging, black skater dress, and these beautiful strawlined wedges my sister gave to me. I don't dare to look at myself in the mirror, to lose any confidence I have left.

Benedict buzzes the intercom, and the butterflies visit my stomach again. I shoo them away with a deep breath.

"Good evening," I say calmly.

"Good evening, beauty." I blush, but take a mini breath to remove the flush.

"Shall we leave?" He asks. I nod, taking my bag from the coat hanger. After I lock the door, he places a hand on the small of my back, directing me to his car.

-

We park outside the Globe, the beautiful straw decorating it's wooden structure. I look back at the Thames and the lights as he places his hand on the small of my back.

"I love it here, you know." He looks at me, apprehensively. "It's my favourite place in the world. How could you have known?"

"I suppose I didn't."

-

During the interval, he walks me outside. I walk beside him, wondering where he's taking me. He stops at the black banister and leans over, peering out over the Thames and back at me. I look away from him, and wait until he turns back before I walk towards him. I lean my arms across, looking at his face before finding his line of sight.

"I preferred the green dress. Then the cream dress, then this one."

"I preferred you in a wet t shirt and jeans, pleading for my help." He laughs, and pulls out a single cigarette and a lighter. I simply watch him. One of his delicate, large hands hold the stick between his smooth fingers, and with the other he coarsely runs his thumb over the lighter, igniting a flame that lights his eyes.

He sucks in the cigarette's toxins, his cheeks deflating and his eyes hard. He softly blows out into the cold air, creating a cloud of smoke that diffuses quickly.

"This is normal for you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that this is another night. One you won't remember next week."

He takes another drag, sending me the toxins instead of him. "So?" I don't reply, I have nothing to say. What I have said is the truth, he's intelligent enough to figure it out. Instead, I concentrate on the lights and the water. His presence.

"How do you know if I won't remember?" I can feel his smirk. "Maybe I haven't decided whether you're normal. It's been two hours."

"You've decided."

I feel his eyes on me, and I confrontingly look at him, but his gaze is away, and he 's smoking again.

The air is knocked out of me, and seemingly my brain too, because what I do next is not appropriate, and my brain would have known that under normal circumstances.

I find my lips on his, and feel him breathe the nasty air into my lungs, but I don't care. When he realises what is going on, he kisses me, and I kiss him back. My lips melt, and I feel his empty hands on my waist, his fingers interlocking.

"Oh, you are so normal."

A/N

Sorry for the varying chapter lengths, but I haven't updated in a while so I thought a big chunk would be better.

Criticism needed please! Thank you :))