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I don’t think there’s ever been a time I’ve looked at Alik when I didn’t think he was handsome, but tonight, he’s wearing slacks instead of dark jeans and a black, button-down shirt. His scent is mixed with unfamiliar cologne that isn’t quite as good as his natural scent but lifts my lips and spreads warmth through my chest.
It isn’t that I questioned if Alik cared for me. He’s made that abundantly clear all the times he’s saved me. But seeing him so different and knowing it’s just for me, meant to impress, makes my heart swell for him. And it makes my own efforts—the black, long-sleeved dress, a shiny barrette to hold back my hair, and red lipstick brightening my face—feel more natural. I’m not one to be relaxed in such outfits, but tonight, with Alik’s hand interlocking mine, I feel at home.
When we reach the end of the Strip, I expect Alik to make a loop, but he pulls into a parking garage instead. I perk up in my seat but don’t ask when he doesn’t offer the answer freely.
He weaves up the garage, passing multiple spots along the way. He keeps going even when we reach a floor that’s nearly empty.
My lips pursed, I turn to him and stare, but he just looks at me with a smirk. “You’ll see.”
It isn’t until we reach the roof of the garage that Alik pulls into a spot near the ledge closest to the Strip. He shuts off the car and climbs out while I look around at nothing but concrete and empty space.
What are we doing?
Alik comes around to my door and opens it, holding out his hand to help me out.
I stand with my arms wrapped around myself while he goes to the trunk to retrieve something.
“You’re not getting a shovel or something, are you?” I ask with a nervous laugh. It doesn’t slip my mind who Alik is or the things that have been in that trunk before tonight.
He appears with a cooler in his arms and a blanket folded on top.
“Shovel?”
I shrug while my face warms. We’re on the roof of a parking garage, not the middle of the desert. Stupid joke.
He sets the cooler down while I shuffle behind him, my teeth digging into my lip. Looking back at me, he hops onto the concrete ledge and dangles his feet over the Strip. When my eyes widen, he laughs and pats the space beside him.
“Come here.”
“Are youinsane?” I ask, my feet feeling unsteady when I go to peek over the side of the concrete.
No.Hellno.
Alik laughs. “I’m not gonna let you fall.”
“Pretty sure you don’t control gravity.”
Another laugh. This time he shows me his teeth with a smile, and I feel dizzy again, but I’m not so sure it has to do with my fear of heights. His red eye must be a fright to many, but it’s always been a magnet for me. Now the look in those eyes, the sureness that I can trust him, makes me want to believe everything he says, even when it isn’t possible. If he told me he could pluck one of the stars from the sky and give it to me, I might just believe him.
He holds out his hand, but I pause before inching that way. My hand trembles as I rest it in his and let him help me onto the ledge, lowering my stiff body to sit on the side as he does. The empty air beneath my feet makes me want to puke.
“I hate you,” I whine, turning my head into his shoulder and gripping him tight.
He chuckles and kisses my hair, putting his arm around me in a protective embrace. “You don’t hate me.”
“Do you hateme? Because right now it seems like it.”
He kisses my head as breaths stutter out of him, like he’s trying to silence his laughter.
“When my friend and I were teenagers, he used to exclusively take girls to a popular haunted house for first dates because,apparently, your body registers fear and excitement as the same. I thought it was a stupid gimmick at the time, but I figured I’d take a crack at it anyway.”
I jerk my head back, still clinging tightly to him even as my eyes narrow. “You’re scaring meon purpose?”
His canines flash as he laughs. “No, I’m kidding.” His hand waves to the ground below, and I clutch him tighter when my head sways. “Just look.”
Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and pull myself as far away from the ledge as I can, my palms rubbing against concretebefore I open my eyes and peek at the ground below through squinted lids.
The miniature Eiffel Tower is what catches my attention first, and slowly, I let my eyes fully open. People from all walks of life skip, shuffle, and stumble down the Strip, some with excitement in their steps, some with sorrow, a few unreadable. In Vegas, you’re usually either here to have a good time or throw your life away. There’s rarely an in between.
