Fire Escape Summer

Okay, so here's how my August went sideways, and I mean that in the best way.

I'm Cecilia, thirty-two, single, never married, and until that night my life ran on rails. Work at the design firm, groceries on Sundays, rooftop chats with Travis the building super when the heat got stupid. That kind of routine. The kind you can sleepwalk through for a year and not notice.

The night in question was the second Friday of August, and the city was a griddle. I had planned this thing for two weeks. I invited my friend Kyra, who's thirty-one and works in the same office as me, and I invited Cade, my boss, who is thirty-five and has been giving me this slow, patient look since we danced together at the company party three months ago. And I invited Travis, thirty-four, because he keeps things light and because I figured four chairs on a roof beats three.

I'll admit the real reason later. Maybe. We'll see.

* * *

Getting them up the fire escape was an adventure all by itself. The elevator in my building died in June and the super kept saying he'd fix it, which is funny because the super is Travis, and he never fixed it. So the three of us climbed six flights of iron stairs in ninety-degree heat, and by the time I pushed open the roof door my sundress was sticking to my back and Kyra was fanning herself with a paper plate she'd brought for some reason.

"Remind me why we didn't just meet at a bar with air conditioning," she said, hauling herself through the doorway.

"Because I have a grill up here and Travis has a cooler," I said. "Also because I said so."

The roof looked exactly how I'd left it that afternoon. Two mismatched lounge chairs, a folding table, the borrowed grill sitting cold, and strings of fairy lights I'd hung along the antenna wire. Through the heat haze the downtown skyline glowed orange, and the lights barely managed a dim gold. It was romantic in a broke kind of way. I'll take it.

Travis was already sprawled in one of the lounge chairs like he owned the place, which, technically, he kind of did. He had the cooler open beside him and a grin already loaded.

"Evening, ladies and gentleman," he said, standing up to shake Cade's hand. "Cecilia told me to bring ice and keep my mouth shut. I brought ice."

Cade laughed and took a seat. He'd changed out of his work clothes into a gray t-shirt, and I caught myself looking and then made myself stop looking. Kyra caught me looking too. Of course she did. She's known me since that rooftop party two summers ago and she misses nothing.

We got drinks going. Travis had brought actual glass bottles, which felt fancy for a roof, and the grill was still cold because I'd decided grilling could wait until we all stopped melting. I settled into the second lounge chair across from Cade and tried very hard to sit like someone who was not nervous.

"So," Kyra said, stretching her legs out, "are you going to tell them or do I have to?"

"Tell them what?" I said, way too fast.

"Oh, this is going to be good," Travis said, tipping his bottle at me.

Kyra grinned at me like a cat with a cornered mouse. "Cecilia has been making eyes at her boss for, what, three months now? Since the party? She thinks nobody notices."

"Kyra," I said.

"She reorganized the seating chart for the last office lunch so she'd be next to him."

"Kyra."

"I'm just saying, it's adorable. He's sitting right there, Cade. You could just say hello like a normal person."

I picked up my bottle and took a long swallow, mostly to have something to do with my face. Cade was watching me over the top of his own drink, and he had this little half-smile like he was enjoying the show, which, fine, great, wonderful.

"Okay," I said, setting the bottle down. "New plan. We're playing truth or dare. Right now. Adult rules: you can pass on anything, no questions asked. That way nobody has to talk about feelings, we just skip straight to embarrassing ourselves."

"That's not how the game works," Travis said.

"It's how it works tonight."

Cade laughed quietly. "I'm in. It's been about fifteen years since I played this, but I remember the general idea."

The rounds started easy. Kyra told the truth about the worst date she'd ever been on, which involved a man who brought his mother. Travis took a dare and did a handstand against the parapet wall, which nearly gave me a heart attack and definitely gave Kyra a view she wouldn't stop laughing about. I took a truth and admitted I'd never learned to ride a bike, which Travis found so upsetting he needed a moment.

Then it was Cade's turn, and he leaned back in his chair, looked straight at me, and said, "Cecilia. Truth or dare?"

"Dare," I said, because truth felt like a trap.

"Sit in my lap for the next round. Or pass, I won't mind."

The roof went quiet except for a car horn down on the street. Kyra made a sound like a tea kettle starting. Travis said, "Ohhh," very slowly, as if watching a slow-motion replay.

Now, here's where I could have chickened out. I want it known that a normal person with a job and a sense of self-preservation would have laughed and picked a safer dare. But the whole reason I planned this ridiculous evening was that I was tired of safe. So I stood up, smoothed my dress, and walked the three steps over to him.

"Move your arms, boss," I said.

He shifted, and I settled into his lap sideways, knees together, trying for dignity and mostly failing. He was warm through the thin cotton of my dress, warmer than the night even, and one of his hands came to rest light and polite on the edge of my knee. His chest was solid against my shoulder. I could feel him breathing.

"Comfortable?" he asked, low, near my ear.

"Shut up," I said, and Kyra howled.

"Best round of truth or dare I've ever witnessed," Travis said, raising his bottle. "I'd like to formally congratulate the game."

"You're next," I warned him. "And I have plans for you."

He took his spin, told a truth about a tattoo nobody knew he had, and then he got that look. That easygoing, troublemaker look. "Alright," he said. "Kyra. Truth or dare?"

"Dare, obviously."

"Kiss Cecilia."

I turned my head in Cade's lap so fast I nearly fell off him. "Travis!"

"What? You said adult rules. She can pass, Cecilia can pass, everybody can pass."

Kyra was already standing, laughing, holding her hand out to me like we were about to dance at a wedding. "I'm not passing. Cecilia? Only if you want to. House rules."

I looked at Cade. He lifted one shoulder, still smiling, still calm, that hand resting warm on my knee. "House rules," he said.

So I took her hand and stood up. Kyra put her palm on my cheek, gentle, giving me a beat to pull back if I wanted, and I didn't want, and then she kissed me. Soft at first, then not soft at all. Her mouth tasted like the lime from her drink and she made this little hum like she was pleased about something, and I completely forgot there were two men watching us, except I absolutely did not forget, because I heard Cade laugh, low in his chest, and it went through me like a current.

Kyra pulled back an inch, forehead nearly touching mine. "Well," she said, breathless. "That wasn't on my bingo card, but I'm not mad."

"Round's over," I announced, sitting back down on the arm of Cade's chair because my knees were protesting. Nobody argued.

I sat there on the arm of Cade's chair for a minute, feeling the heat of him through my dress and the heat of the night everywhere else, and I made a decision. Two weeks of planning a rooftop party with a hidden agenda, and here was my moment, so I figured I'd better not waste it being shy about it.

"Okay," I said, standing up. "Game's over. New game."

"That was fast," Travis said.

"I brought cushions up here earlier. The big pile, over by the parapet. I say we all get comfortable and see where the night goes. Everybody's an adult, nobody's had more than a couple of drinks, there's water in Travis's cooler, everybody can say no, and nobody has to explain anything to anybody tomorrow if they don't want to." I said it fast, all in one breath, and then I stood there with my heart pounding, waiting to find out if I'd just tanked my own party.

Kyra looked at Travis. Travis looked at Cade. Cade looked at me.

"I'd like that," he said, plain as anything. "If everyone else would too. And for the record, this is separate from work. Monday I'm still your boss