Chapter 8: The Roof

We left our badges in my locker.

Kurt's idea, because a badge swipe is a line in Pembrey's spreadsheet.

At 5:40 in the morning we climbed the back stairs of stairwell B, past the camera-free landings, to a grey metal door marked ROOF ACCESS.

He held it open with a rubber wedge from his pocket and I walked out into the wind.

The sky was the color of a pearl, with a streak of pink low over the rivers.

Pittsburgh lay below us, bridges and smoke and wet black roofs, and the whole city was quiet.

I had never seen it from up here.

I spread my arms and shouted into the cold.

"Quiet," Kurt said, laughing, and caught me around the waist.

"Nobody can hear me up here!"

"The helicopter pilot can."

"Let him."

He turned me around and kissed me against the rail, and the wind pulled at his coat and my hair.

It was freezing.

His beard was cold, his mouth was warm, and he tasted like butterscotch.

"I wanted to show you something," he said.

He took off his long wool coat and spread it open.

"You're going to be cold," I said.

"I'm going to be inside you in about thirty seconds. I'll live."

My stomach turned over.

He walked me back to the metal door, pressed my palms flat against it, and stepped up behind me.

The coat dropped over both of our shoulders and closed around us.

I felt his hands slide down my sides, over the thin scrub pants, and tug the waistband down.

Cold air hit my skin, and I gasped.

"Shh," he said, right at my ear. "Hands on the door. Stay."

His fingers dipped between my thighs from behind, and I was embarrassingly wet.