This was not happening.
I was losing my mind. I was absolutely losing my mind. But I didn’t care. Rupert K. was trying to talk me out of killing myself.
This was the best day of my life.
“Please, step back,” he said. He said it as if I could move—as if I had any sort of control over my limbs in his presence. “If you move I will be forced to take matters into my own hands.”
Did “matters” mean me?
I lunged for the edge.
Just as he’d promised, Rupert K. grabbed me by the waist and pulled. I didn’t have to stumble back and make myself fall on top of him.
But reader, that’s exactly what I did.
The two of us were a jumble of limbs on the cold concrete roof. As we were clearly meant to be.
“Are you alright?”
No. No, I was definitely not alright. I was hugging Rupert K. of The Ruperts. Rupert K. of The Ruperts had just saved my life. Not that it was in any real danger to begin with. But I nodded anyway.
“You won’t off yourself, then?”
I shook my head. Words. They would’ve been handy right then. Somehow I mustered one up. “No.”
“You sure? You’re a sad-looking girl alone on a roof …” His voice was London butter. Is that a thing? Let’s say it was Marmite, but delicious. He helped me up and I let him.
What was he even doing here? Wasn’t he supposed to be at the Thanksgiving spectacular? I guess it had probably ended by now. It was only supposed to be an hour after all. And enough time had passed for him to have come back to the hotel. Plus, I knew Rupert K. well enough to know that he always skipped an after-party.
But why was I trying to figure out why he was here? He just was, and I wasn’t going to ask any questions.
“I just needed to think,” I said.
Unbelievably, he kept looking at me. He hadn’t taken his eyes off me, actually. There was something quizzical behind his eyes, like he thought I might still jump. I didn’t dare move an inch. I didn’t want to do anything that would make him look away.
“What’s troubling you?” he asked. At this point I had lost all manner of speech. I could’ve been drooling for all I knew. “I’m sorry, it’s none of my business. I don’t usually get to talk to people my age … new people my age. So when I do I can pry a bit. Did you want to be alone?”
“I HAVE NEVER WANTED TO BE LESS ALONE.”
I may have said that a little too loudly. To defuse the awkwardness I cleared my throat. Totally saved it.
“We haven’t been properly introduced,” he said. “I’m Rupert Kirke.”
Lulz. Duh.
“I’m Sloane,” I said. “Sloane Peterson.”
“So, Sloane. Why are you on the roof of The Rondack all by yourself tonight?”
“I just needed to clear my head because … well, my best friend sort of betrayed me, I guess? She did something behind my back and now I don’t know if I can trust her again.”
“Wow. That’s exactly the same reason I came up here.”
Soul mates. That was what we were. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Rupert K. said. “My mate turned his back on me tonight, and it could mess up a lot of things for us. For me.”
Okay, so he obviously couldn’t know that I’d wallpapered my bedroom with his face and I was currently wearing a total of three pieces of clothing that featured his likeness (socks, tank top under my sweater, underwear), but was he not aware that I knew who he was? I was a breathing fifteen-year-old girl—he must’ve known that I knew. Why was he being so open with me? Did he see something in me that made him feel like he could talk to me? Thinking about that made me feel instantly guilty. Rupert K. looked so sad, and I was indirectly (or was that just plain directly?) responsible for it.
“Maybe you just need to hear your friend out,” I said. “I’m sure if you talk it out you can come to an understanding.” Rupert P. could explain the whole thing once we let him free.
“What about you? Do you think you can talk it out with your friend?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “But you shouldn’t be sad. Down there? Those girls are screaming for you.”
He smiled. “So you know who I am.”
I nodded, my heart beating fast.
“You’re not screaming for me.”
Oh, I was. Internally I was shrieking. “Screaming wouldn’t do you any good right now.”
He laughed and leaned over the edge of the wall, looking down at the girls, but they didn’t seem as impressive to him as they had to me. His gaze floated up, admiring the skyline as the buildings got higher uptown. “There are so many bright lights.”
“Bright Lights, Big City.”
“Bright lights, big city?” His eyes went wide, a new idea forming behind them. “That’s good. That’s really quite good, actually. Do you think I could use that in a song?”
“It’s the title of a book,” I said. “And a movie.”
“Oh. Right, I knew that.”