The whole thing was a sham. A gross, media-obsessed sham. After the second speaker was finished, I abruptly stood up. “Bathroom,” I mumbled to my mom and quickly walked away.
I found a side exit and left the main ballroom. The hallway was mercifully empty, and I finally felt like I could actually breathe as I walked slowly toward an exit sign. I pushed through a pair of double doors and found a stairwell.
I had a choice, up or down. I chose up for no reason other than I wanted to take my time. I climbed the steps, heading up and up, until I finally came to one last door. I pushed it open, went up another short flight of stairs, and emerged out onto the roof.
The night was comfortable and bright as I stepped out. There was nobody else around, and I had a surprisingly good view of the bay. The evening lights spread all around the coastline and it looked absolutely gorgeous. For a second, I thought that the view was almost worth this awful and boring trip.
I walked out further until I got to the edge of the building then slowly, carefully, sat down. I felt my heart beating fast as I let my legs dangle over the edge, a small balcony maybe one story down below me. I didn’t know why I sat there, I knew it was crazy and reckless, but for whatever reason I couldn’t stop myself. I just had to sit down, dangle my feet over the edge, feel that craziness for myself.
I kicked my legs a little bit, heart whipping up as the wind whipped up around me. I could taste the cold metallic zest of the ocean waves and I could hear the traffic down below me. Briefly, I wondered if someone might think I was a jumper, but figured nobody could see me anyway.
I sat there watching for I couldn’t say how long. Ten minutes maybe, but probably more like twenty.
“Emily.”
I gripped the edge, suddenly dizzy.
“Emily,” he said again. “What are you doing?”
Slowly, I looked over my shoulder. Carter was standing a few feet back, holding two glasses of champagne, his head cocked to one side.
“Sitting,” I said.
“You’re on the edge of a pretty tall building.”
“I know that.”
“How do you plan on getting up?”
I considered that question. “I hadn’t thought about it,” I admitted.
“Obviously.” He set the two glasses down. “Let me help you.”
“No,” I said. “I got it.”
“Emily—“ he warned, but I was already turning, trying to get up.
I felt my balance slip, but he was there in an instant. He took my arm and pulled me toward him as I stood, and together we stumbled onto the roof together.
“Shit,” he said. “Are you okay?”
“My hero,” I whispered. “You’ve been showing up a lot for me lately.”
He held me pressed against him and I could feel his breath. “Don’t do something like that again. It was too risky.”
“I thought you liked risks.”
He frowned. “Only the calculated kind.”
“I was calculating. I calculated that I wanted to sit on the edge and look at the city.”
“Emily—“
“Stop,” I said. “You’re not my father.”
The joke hung in the air between us for a second before we both laughed together, smiling. He let me go, or at least loosened his grip on my hips, but I didn’t step away. Instead, I pressed my hands against his chest, looking up into his eyes.
For the third time he kissed me, and for the third time I didn’t try to pull away.
I melted into his kiss, returning it with a passion. I knew I should have been smarter than this, but I was past caring. For some reason, sitting out on the edge made me reckless and wild, and in that moment I was willing to do anything. With Carter, I was willing to do anything. I wanted to be that girl he wanted, the girl that was sexy and wild and free, the one that I knew he thought he was seeing whenever he looked at me. I wanted to be that for him, to be the girl I knew that I probably wasn’t. I was just Emily, plain old Emily, boring and normal Emily.
Except I didn’t want to be her anymore. I wanted to be more.
I reached down and found Carter’s belt. He grunted as I unfastened it and slowly pressed my hand into the front of his dress pants.
I found his cock, hard as hell and straining against his boxer briefs. He groaned as I stroked him, surprised at his length and girth.
“Emily,” he groaned. “Fuck.”
I smiled at him, unable to control myself. “Is this what you wanted?”
“You’re fucking right it is,” he said. I continued to stroke him.
“What else do you want?”
He took my hair, tipping my head back and pressed his lips against my ear. “I want you to get down on your knees. I want you to suck my cock. And I want you to swallow every ounce of my fucking cum.”