Beyond Walls

Chapter4

By day five, Isla had established a routine. Wake up at six-thirty. Suffer through the shower’s temperature. Coffee, either from home or grabbed on the way to work. Walk to the office, avoiding eye contact with the door to apartment 3D. Come home late. Microwave something sad for dinner. Work until she couldn’t see straight. Sleep.

It was a good routine, and it worked for her. At least it wouldn’t allow her to fall into the temptation of her attractive neighbor.

Except Damien seemed to have developed a routine of his own: existing in her general vicinity at the exact moments she was trying to avoid him.

Tuesday morning: They’d ended up on the subway platform together. He offered her his seat when the train was packed. She said no. Then he decided to give his seat to a pregnant woman and come stand with her. They stood pressed together in the crush of bodies, and she spent fifteen minutes actively aware of every time their bodies touched.

Wednesday evening: She had been getting her mail in the lobby. He had been coming back from a run all sweaty and breathing heavily and did not seem to care that he was wearing really tight clothes. He then made a joke about how old the mailboxes in the building were. She laughed really loudly at the joke, hoping it would hide her admiration of his manly structure.

Thursday afternoon: She’d worked from home to finish the Hendricks preliminary analysis. He’d knocked on her door at two PM with cookies. “Mrs. Chen made extras. Figured you could use a break.” She’d eaten three cookies while he sat on her couch, and they’d talked about everything and nothing for an hour before she’d realized what time it was and practically shoved him out the door.

Now it was Friday evening, she was exhausted from a week of hard work and all she wanted to do was relax somewhere that was not her apartment. Her apartment was full of boxes. She still had not finished unpacking them.

Which is how she found herself on the building’s roof garden at seven PM, a glass of wine in hand, watching the sun set over the city.

The roof garden was a place that people could use together. Isla had been told that a lot of people who lived there forgot it was even there. Someone had put in big pots for plants, benches to sit on and lights that hung from strings. The lights still worked, although you had to wiggle the plug a little to get them to turn on. It wasn’t much, but it was peaceful. Private.

It remained like that until the door opened behind her.

“Hiding?”

Isla didn’t bother turning around. She’d recognize that voice anywhere by now. “Decompressing. There’s a difference.”

“Semantics again.” Damien walked over. Leaned against the railing beside her. He was holding his beer. “Mind if I join your decompression?”

She should mind. Should tell him she wanted to be alone. Should maintain the boundaries she’d been trying and failing to establish all week.

“Free country,” she said instead.

They stood in silence for a while, watching the city transform from day to evening. The lights flickering on in windows, the sky shifting from blue to pink to purple. The sounds of traffic drifted up from below, muted and distant from this height.

“Rough week?” Damien asked finally.

“Intense week. But good.” Isla took a sip of wine. “You?”

“Productive. Finished the piece I was working on. Started a new one.”

“The liminal spaces' series?”

“You remembered.”

“I have a good memory for interesting conversations.”

He smiled at that, soft and pleased. “Is that what we’ve been having? Interesting conversations?”

“When you’re not ambushing me with cookies or taking up all the oxygen on crowded trains, yeah.”

“I don’t take up all the oxygen. Maybe like… seventy percent. Tops.”

Despite herself, Isla laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“One of my more charming qualities.” He turned to face her more fully, setting his beer on the railing. “Can I ask you something?”

“Depends on the question.”

“Why do you keep running away from me?”

The directness of it caught her off guard. “I don’t.....”

“You do,” he said gently, without accusation. “Every time we start to have a real conversation, you find a reason to leave. Tuesday on the train, you get off two stops early. Wednesday in the lobby, you practically sprinted to your apartment. Thursday, you literally pushed me out your door.”

“I had work—”

“I am not criticizing. I am curious.” His eyes held hers, steady and open. “Did I do something to make you feel uncomfortable?”

“No! God, no. You’ve been nothing but nice.”

“Then what is it?”

Isla looked away, back at the skyline. She did not know how to explain that he made her feel uneasy because he did not make her feel uneasy. Every moment with him felt easy and terrifying at the same time. It was like standing at the edge of something she was not ready to fall into.

“You seem like the kind of person who has a lot of people in their life,” she said finally. “A lot of… female people.”

To his credit, Damien didn’t pretend to not understand. “Ah. You’ve noticed my impressive track record of failed almost-relationships.”

“Fair observation.” He was quiet for a moment. “You want to know why?”

“It’s none of my business.”

“Maybe not. But I’ll tell you anyway.” He picked up his beer, took a long drink. “I like women. I enjoy their company. But I don’t do relationships well. I’m not good at the long-term thing. The commitment thing. So I’m upfront about that. No promises, no expectations, everyone knows what it is.”

“Must be nice,” Isla said before she could stop herself. “Being that sure of what you want. Or don’t want.”

“Is it?” Damien tilted his head, studying her. “Or is it just easier than figuring out what you actually need?”

The question really got to Isla. She looked down at her wine glass, watched the way the wine caught the light.

“Sorry,” Damien said after a moment. “Too much honesty?”

She turned to face him fully, emboldened by wine and exhaustion. “I mean you’re confused. You’re this gorgeous guy who apparently has women falling all over him, but you also bring your new neighbor cookies and ask how her day was and seem genuinely interested in the answer. You’re successful enough to afford this building, but you live simply and paint and apparently don’t care about the typical status stuff. You’re confident but not arrogant. You’re flirty but not pushy.” She took a breath. “I don’t know which version is real, or if they all are, or if I’m just projecting what I want to see, because you have really nice eyes and I haven’t been on a date in six months.”

Damien stared at her. The city hummed below them. Neither of them moved.

Then, slowly, he started to smile in a way that almost looked like relief. Like she had just said exactly the thing he had been waiting to hear, and now he was deciding exactly what to do about it.