Chapter 3
1005 Words
The air outside Club Vortex was cool and quiet, like the night had exhaled after holding its breath for too long. The thump of bass faded behind them, replaced by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional echo of laughter from other late-night wanderers. Streetlights bathed the sidewalk in pools of soft gold.
Kade walked beside Alara, not too close, not too far — just enough that she could feel his presence, calm and steady. She wasn’t sure why, but her steps felt lighter. Like she’d left a weight inside the club.
He glanced at her sideways, hands tucked into the pockets of his worn leather jacket. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I think I’m actually breathing again.”
A faint smile touched his lips. “That’s a good start.”
They walked for a few blocks in silence. Not awkward, not tense. Just... still. Like the city had carved out this moment just for them.
“So,” she asked after a while, “where are we going?”
Kade tilted his head toward the street ahead. “There’s a 24-hour coffee place on the rooftop of a bookstore downtown. Nobody really knows about it unless they’re local. Best view of the skyline, terrible music, even worse coffee—but it’s quiet. Thought you’d like that.”
Alara looked at him, a little surprised. “You don’t strike me as a bookstore kind of guy.”
“I’m full of contradictions,” he said with a grin. “Besides, I used to go there to sketch. Back when I was trying to be someone else.”
That piqued her interest. “Someone else?”
Kade didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached the corner and pressed the button at the crosswalk. The red hand blinked above them.
“You ever wish you could rewrite parts of your story?” he asked.
Alara blinked. “Every day.”
Kade nodded slowly. “Yeah. I tried to. Didn’t work. Turns out, you can change the setting, change the clothes, change the people around you. But the pain? The guilt? It sticks like ink.”
She looked at him — really looked at him — and for the first time, saw the wear behind his confidence. The tired lines beneath his eyes. The way he didn’t talk about himself unless it slipped through the cracks.
“You’re an artist?” she asked gently.
“Used to be. Tattoos now. Skin instead of canvas.”
“I like that,” she said. “It’s bold. Permanent.”
He glanced at her. “So was the mistake that brought me to it.”
The light turned green. They crossed.
---
The café was almost invisible from the street — just a small red door beside a graffiti-covered wall and a rusty staircase that led up, up, up. Alara followed Kade in silence, the metal steps creaking beneath their feet. By the time they reached the rooftop, the city opened up around them like a secret.
Soft string lights hung above mismatched tables. There were only a few other people — an old man sipping tea and scribbling in a notebook, a couple wrapped in blankets, lost in each other.
And then there was the view.
The skyline stretched across the horizon in glittering towers and soft glow. The night sky, peppered with faint stars, framed it all like a painting.
“Wow,” Alara whispered.
“Told you,” Kade said, pulling out a chair for her. “Terrible coffee. Beautiful everything else.”
They ordered — she got black tea with honey, he chose double espresso — and sat without speaking for a while, just watching the city breathe below them.
Alara wrapped her hands around the warm mug. “This doesn’t feel real.”
“What doesn’t?”
“Tonight. This view. You.”
Kade looked at her, eyes serious now. “It’s real. Maybe the most real thing I’ve felt in a long time.”
She met his gaze. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know how you looked when you danced like your soul was trying to scream. I know you carry pain like it’s stitched into your dress. I know your laugh comes slow, but when it does, it’s beautiful.”
Her breath caught.
“And maybe I don’t know your favorite color or what song you sing in the shower,” he continued, “but I know you don’t belong to that man who broke your heart. You don’t belong to that version of you who’s afraid to trust again.”
Alara blinked quickly, biting the inside of her cheek. “That’s a lot to see in one night.”
Kade smiled softly. “Like I said. I listen too much.”
She looked down at her tea. “And you? Who are you trying to outrun?”
He was quiet for a long time.
Then: “My brother died in a street fight. Wrong place, wrong time. I was supposed to meet him that night, but I was late. Been late ever since.”
Alara’s breath stilled.
“I used to run with people who thought violence was power. Thought respect came from fear. But after he died, I couldn’t stay in that world. I tried to disappear. Rebuild. But the guilt... it follows me everywhere.”
“Kade…”
“I’m not saying this to scare you. I just... I want to be honest. I don’t want tonight to be another mask.”
Alara reached across the table and touched his hand.
Warm. Real.
“I’m not afraid of your past,” she said softly. “I’m afraid of letting someone in again.”
He turned his hand, lacing their fingers slowly, carefully. “Then maybe we take it one night at a time.”
She nodded.
And as the wind danced across the rooftop and the city glittered below, Alara realized something terrifying and beautiful:
She didn’t want this night to end.
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- Writer
