“We have a problem.”

Mara sticks a cigarette in her mouth and huddles into me to light it. The flash between our bodies illuminates her face.

I notice a scar on her cheek. It’s faded, probably hidden well by makeup before liquor and wind came into play, but over three inches long and nearly half an inch wide, wrapping down to her jaw. For some reason, I get the urge to press my thumb against it.

Thankfully, I don’t.

“Problem?” she repeats, after she’s taken a drag.

“The door’s locked.”

Her eyes narrow, like she thinks I’m joking. Her hand closes over mine on the door handle, pulls, and freezes.

“Shit.”

“Don’t worry,” I say quickly. “There’s a fire escape, we can just take that down to the first balcony.”

Mara stares after me, wide-eyed, as I walk to the ledge and shake the metal ladder mounted there. The fire escape is sturdy, and winds down to the elaborate balcony of the suite below.

“Whoa!” she shouts, when I swing my leg over. “You aren’t serious, are you?”

I shrug. “You have a better idea?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s called ‘use a fucking cell phone instead of climbing down some rickety fire escape from a hundred miles in the air.’”

She stalks closer and leans just far enough over the edge to see what I’m seeing. As soon as she does, her face blanches. She snaps back and shuts her eyes.

“My cell phone,” I answer, taking the next rung down, “is with my mom. She wanted to take photos and hers had died. Use yours if you want, but I can get inside faster this way, and that’s assuming you get a signal immediately. Which you won’t—the Acre is a definite dead zone.” When I’m greeted with silence, I add, “I’m telling you, it won’t take long. And look: this entire ladder is caged in, then it’s just stairs and landings the rest of the way. We can’t fall.”

“My cell died, too.” This is directed more to herself, in an “I’m an idiot” way, than to me. She looks over the edge again.

“Scared?” I tease. It’s fun to have the upper hand in this duo, probably because it’s so hard to get.

“So I have a thing about heights. Sue me.” She takes another puff off the cigarette and shrugs, like she can play off the obvious grip of terror on her face.

“I’ll come back up and let you in,” I promise. It’s impossible not to chuckle when I drop from the ladder to the first landing, the metal rattling and making her gasp.

“Okay, okay, no, fuck no. Come back up. We’ll break down the door or—or go through the vents or something. I’m not letting you do this.”

“I get it, you’re scared.” I undo my cufflinks and roll up my sleeves. I only pause once, to look up at her with the same expression she gave me a little while ago, daring me to take off that garter. “But I’m not.”

Mara draws her lips between her teeth and stares. If I didn’t know better—which, technically, I guess I don’t—I’d swear she knows I’m using reverse psychology on her.

“I’m not scared.” Her arms disappear into the sleeves of my jacket, one at a time. She slips it off and tosses it behind her. I hear two thuds; she’s kicked off her heels.

The ladder’s the worst of the descent. You’re fully aware you’re clinging to the side of a building, with no choice but to commit and trust the structure to hold, so I decide to encourage her. “You’re doing great. Just open your eyes. You need to watch what you’re doing.”

“I thought the rule is to not look down.”

“It is. You don’t look at the ground. Look at the very next step, then the next. One thing at a time.”

“Okay,” she says, but her voice is wispy and shaken. Now I feel bad for goading her into this.

“One more. That’s it.” My hands grab her waist as soon as she’s within reach. I hold my breath until her feet touch the landing in front of mine.

She turns, agonizingly slow, and stifles a scream when she looks down.

“Hey.” I lift her face until she’s looking at me. “We’re okay. This thing is sturdy, I promise.”

I think I see tears in her eyes. They make me feel even worse, and I deserve every bit of it. “How do you know?”

“I’m good at climbing.” It’s weird: I didn’t even think to use past tense. As long as it’s been since I smoked cigarettes or weed, it’s been even longer since I’ve found my way up—or down—a building.

“I can tell when something’s not attached well enough to hold weight,” I go on, making sure my tone stays in exactly the soothing range she needs. “This is strong. It’s bolted right into the brick.”

In the distance, sirens howl. She shuts her eyes again.

The upper hand isn’t nearly as fun as I expected.

“Go back up.” I realize one of my hands is still on her waist. The dress is thin, hugging her figure like paint. My heart doesn’t settle down until I let go.

“No.” She wets her lips. They’re chapping in the breeze. “I’ve already gone this far.”

We stand there a little longer. Mara’s most likely paralyzed with fear. I’m enjoying that forgotten rush of being so high off the ground.

“Two sets of stairs,” I tell her calmly. “Then it’s one more ladder, right over a balcony. You can come with me or you can go back up—I won’t judge you, I promise—but it’s really not as bad as you think.”

Her chest moves like she’s having an anxiety attack, but she nods. Her hand slips into mine, the other white-knuckling the railing as we take the steps to the next landing.

“Good, good. See, another landing.” I look back at her, expecting her eyes to be closed again, but she’s staring right at me.

“More stairs,” I warn. Her bare feet whisper behind my dress shoes. “Okay, last landing. See? You did great.”

The tears I noticed before have fallen, but I don’t see any new ones. In fact, she looks kind of numb. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.

“Okay.” Her voice is stronger. “What now?”

“The ladder. It’s going to be loud when I let it down, so...I don’t know, brace yourself.”

Mara scrunches up her face like I’m about to set off dynamite. Which isn’t too far off, considering the unholy thunder that unleashes when I slide the ladder down and let it extend. The vibration rattles the entire fire escape around us.

“I’ll go down first.” As I turn and brace my feet on the rungs, she starts to reach for me, like she’ll stop me and pull me back up. Like she’s not just scared of this whole situation, but worried for me.

Then she hesitates, pulls her hand back, and breathes. We’ve gone this far.

I could actually slide down this thing in two seconds flat. This isn’t my first time getting stuck on this roof, or a few others.

It’ll terrify her, though, so I take my time. When I drop to the stone balcony and look up, she’s already starting down the ladder.

“There you go,” I call. “It’s not bad, right?”

“Shut up. Please.” Her legs are shaking. Like before, I get right underneath the ladder, ready to catch her. The drop is about six feet, so I get her to hang from the last rung and lower her by the waist. I can feel more pent-up screams pushing against her ribcage and stomach the entire time, until her feet are safely on the patio.

Instantly, she starts crying.

“I can’t believe I did that,” she blurts, laughing through the tears. “Oh, my God—I did it!”

“Told you.”

“I’ve never done anything like that! I’m shaking but it’s like—like adrenaline, and, holy shit, I can’t....” Her ramble trails. She throws her arms around my neck and laughs into my chest.

My smile surprises me. But not quite as much as the fact I hug her back.

“Oh, God,” she says again, and rests her forehead right against my heart.

The bones in my arms feel like wire, wrapped permanently around Levi. My pulse crackles through me.

I can’t stop inhaling the scent of him. Salt, soap, cologne. Weed and wind and the fermented grain on my own breath, rushing back at me.

Slowly, I slip my hands down the front of his chest and lean away. He stares down at me and swallows.

“We should get inside.” His heartbeat feels even faster than mine. I let my hand trail farther, lingering just a bit when I reach his belt, then step back and await his instructions.

“Locked,” he mutters, shaking the French doors of the patio. There’s a light on inside the suite, and a suitcase at the foot of the bed.

I step up beside him and rap my knuckles against the glass. “Hey! Let us in!”

“Shit!” He closes his hand over my fist, half-hissing, half-laughing my name. “What are you doing?”

“This was your plan, wasn’t it?” I knock with my other hand and dodge him when he dives for it. “How else are we going to get in? Hello! Hey, let us inside, it’s freezing!”

The door to the suite’s parlor opens. An elderly man peeks into the bedroom, so confused I can’t help but laugh.

“You,” I call, and knock again. When he finally spots us through the darkened glass, I point at the door handles. “Little help?”

“Uncle Tim is going to kick my ass if this guy calls security on us.”

“Cross that bridge later.” I flash my smile while the man shuffles over, brow creased, and studies us. “Yeah, hi! We got locked out on the roof,” I shout. “Can you let us in?”

“Please,” Levi adds. Now we’re both laughing. I’m sure it doesn’t help the man understand the situation any better.

He hesitates, then clicks open the lock.

“Thank you,” Levi breathes, and even stops to shake the guy’s hand. I’m already stumbling through the suite, laughing my ass off when I see an equally old woman pouring Grey Goose at the minibar. Her hand flies to her mouth as she calls for her husband.

“Have a nice night,” I tell her, as Levi catches up to me. He’s red-faced, rambling apologies through his laughter.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am. We were stuck on the roof, and.... My uncle is Tim—”

“Christ, don’t narc on yourself!” I grab his hand and pull him after me into the hallway. Just before it shuts, I salute the couple and wish them goodnight.

When we’re in the elevator, the last of our self-control dissolves. We have to brace ourselves on the handicapped railings, we’re laughing so much. Levi holds his side. “Those poor people. They were so confused.”

“‘Poor people,’ my ass. We gave them a fun story to tell at their Mahjong parties.” I find some composure and nod at the button panel so he’ll take the lead. It’s another trick of mine.

“What floor are you on?” he asks.

“No room.” I attempt to fix my windswept hair in the reflection of the doors, but quickly give up. Not like it matters. If I get my way tonight, my hair will soon look much worse. “What about you?”

His smile doesn’t vanish, but I do notice the corner tick back a little. He presses the button for the second floor so gently, I don’t even hear it click.

Outside his room, he scratches his head and flips the keycard back and forth between his fingers. “Thank you,” he says, after a minute. “Tonight was way more fun than I expected.”

I step closer. The carpet warming my feet reminds me I left my shoes on the roof, but the thought’s miles from my mind when I run my hands down his chest again.

“We can make it even more fun, if you want.” I look up at him through the fallen hair in my eyes and smile. This time, I don’t pull my hand away when it reaches his belt. I hold it there, thumb hooked on his buckle, fingers hovering near his zipper to make my intentions known. Not that I need to. I’ve been nothing but obvious up to now.

Then again, I was also pretty obvious the last time around.