Rooftops

Chapter 3

"Goodness Heidi. You create so much havoc."

"It's not my fault! He was the one who turned up!"

She mutes the phone with her hand and I pick up very quiet mutterings between her and what must be her husband, Robert.

"Okay then. We'll be back at 2."

"Thank you, have a good time." I hang up the phone, and Ben's browsing through one of my sisters photography albums.

"You can stay here tonight. If you need to contact anyone, you may use the phone or my laptop with my approval."

"I'm very grateful." I am unexpectedly thanked with his two arms encapsulating me, and I feel his muscles against my skin. I feel like an idiot having my arms by my side, so I pat his back gently with my hands.

"You're welcome." His scent warms my body, in a similar way to alcohol as it spreads through your body. "So... What do you want to do now?" I'm trying to make this situation less awkward.

"Maybe you could give me a tour of the house." Well, he's not a burglar, we've established that. And although he's a stranger, I could sue him if he did anything - that would pay for my university debts. So I'm not fussed.

"Sure."

I lead him around my sisters home, explaining where pieces of art come from or when this or that picture was taken. We get to my room, and I hesitate when I'm turning the door handle. Do I have anything private on display? Did I clean up my room this morning? I decide that it doesn't matter, and in good time too, as Ben seems to speculate why I'm reacting this way.

When the door opens, I notice that my room is neither messy nor tidy, and I'm grateful for that. For the first time since I bought them, I notice the few posters I have adjourned on the walls and the books spilling on the shelves. I remember that my phone was playing For No One by the Beatles on my speaker, as he makes his way directly to it. He seems unfazed by everything else.

"Nice." His simple comment brings the frustration back, and I bite my tongue. He then flicks through my book collection, and it feels like he's penetrating my defenses. He didn't do this in any other room. I turn to my desk and flip my laptop shut, before scurrying my notes and letters in a great, uneven pile. I feel his eyes on me, but I don't hear his feet because of my carpet.

He startles me, taking part of the heavy heap and beginning to read it.

At this point I can't stop myself.

"What are you doing?! That's private!" I reach out to get my work, but he simply grins and turns his torso so that I can no longer get at it.

My anxiety builds up, and at this point I would usually be sitting down and taking deep breaths like my doctor told me to do. But instead a part of my brain tells me not to, and I can feel my heart beating at an uncontrollable rate.

I'm staring at him, and he's concentrating on the words I've written on the page, his eyebrows furrowing.

I become weaker and weaker, my muscles shaking me and my knees buckling. Before I know it, I'm on the floor, partially unconscious and unable to move.

"What's going on?" Ben throws himself off my bed and places his warm hand against my cheek, and then the artery spot on my neck.

"Can you hear me?" His voice fades and sharpens continuously.

"Are you alright? Please speak to me!" I feel him try to lift me up onto the bed, and my selfconsciousness takes over, enabling me to speak before he feels how heavy I am.

"Stop.. Stop... I'm fine. I just need fresh air." He nods. "The rooftop." I explain. I pull myself off the carpet, still frantically shaking, and attempt to walk independently. Needless to say, it does not succeed, and I topple over.