Page 56 of Edge of Control

He slid me a sidelong glance. “Could be worse,” he said, voice low. Then he shrugged in that way he did—like the rest of the story might strangle him if he let it out. “Thanks for coming.”

“No problem,” I said. “I was about to bury myself in paperwork and leftover lo mein.”

A faint curve touched his lips, maybe close to a real smile. “Paperwork can wait, right?”

“Exactly.” I leaned on the ledge, letting the wind brush over my face. The city below looked like a painting made of glittering lights, each building winking in its own pattern. Chaos, but from up here, it looked almost orderly, almost pretty. I couldn’t imagine a better view.

Then I glanced at Theo and realized I very well could.

He rested his elbows on the ledge. He stared out, jaw tight. “Couldn’t stand being cooped up in that apartment, waiting for another text or knock on the door.” He seemed to have caught himself on something. “Work’s been wild.”

I fought the urge to ask a thousand questions. Instead, I simply said, “Makes sense. I want to climb into the sky, too, on some days.”

A pause, filled by a distant siren and muffled horns from below. Then Theo inhaled deeply and turned to me. “I appreciate you,” he said, voice unexpectedly raw. “For not pushing me when I can’t share everything. And… for coming here.”

The sincerity in his eyes made my chest tighten. “Hey,” I said, stepping a little closer, “I’m just glad you texted instead of trying to handle it alone.”

He let out a shaky exhale, as though that tiny bit of vulnerability cost him. “Alone gets old.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. I had my own brand of lonely, especially with my work, coming home at weird hours, burying myself in coffee and takeout, ignoring the emptiness. But I’d gotten used to it.

Theo was a reminder that maybe I didn’t have to be so used to it.

The wind gusted, ruffling his hair. He wore it shorter on the sides, a bit longer on top. Messy, but in a way that could be deliberate. Something about the darkness overhead, combined with the way the city lights glowed against his face, made me aware of every subtle shift in his expression. Tension in his jaw, shadows under his eyes.

What the hell is going on with you, Theo?

We stood like that for a minute, letting the city speak for us. The warm throbbing of nightlife drifted up, a reminder that life went on despite everything. Eventually, he pulled something from his hoodie pocket: a pair of beer cans, half-chilled from his fridge. He held one out.

I laughed softly, accepting it. “How’d you know I’m into IPAs?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Because you’re gay,” he said, getting a genuine laugh out of me. “Besides, it felt like the right vibe.” The can hissed as he popped it open.

“Well you’re right. On both accounts.” I took a sip. The slight fizz felt good on my tongue, tasting like it had hints of mango and guava. We clinked cans in a silent toast. “To fresh air,” I said.

“To surviving,” he answered, a bit too darkly, then shot me a crooked smile like he was trying to lighten it. “I mean… to surviving the day.”

I nudged him with my elbow, more gently than usual. “You’re not alone, you know.” The words came out, plain and simple. “Whatever’s going on, I’m around if you need me.”

Theo studied me, gaze flicking over my face as though searching for any sign that I was just giving him lip service. “I know,” he said softly, then sipped more beer. “And… thank you, Jace. That means a hell of a lot.”

My name on his tongue sent a warmth through my chest. I looked away, clearing my throat. The large and open—andempty—space of the rooftop made my thoughts drift. Made my cock twitch. Our sexual chemistry was explosive and my dick was practically trained to start leaking in Theo’s presence.

But this moment went deeper than sex. I just wanted tobe.Wanted to let this moment cradle us. “Anyway, how about we forget the city for a second.” I gestured at the swirling mass of black and purple overhead. “Look at that sky. Think we’ll get stars tonight, or is the light pollution too bad?”

His gaze shifted upward. “This is New York, light pollution is dog shit every day.” Then, “But I see one star out there, right?” He pointed. I squinted, noticing a faint twinkle near the horizon. It could’ve been a plane, for all we knew, but I liked to think of it as a star.

“It’ll do,” I said. We both chuckled. A weird sense of comfort settled between us, reminiscent of late-night teenage confessions—like we were kids, lying in the grass, dreaming big. Except now we were grown, jaded in our own ways, meeting in the margins of each other’s lives.

We lapsed into quiet again.

This time, it felt deeper, more intimate. The hush unspooled between us. I thought about telling him I’d gotten an invite to a dinner with the Stonewall team in a couple of nights—some social gathering I was half-dreading, half-looking forward to. Maybe I’d ask him to come afterward, or if he wanted to meet me for a drink once I escaped. But I hesitated. We were still balancing on the edge of each other’s worlds, neither fully stepping in.

But, well, fuck it. Maybe it was time to dive head first.

“I’ve got a dinner thing soon—with some colleagues. Not something I can skip. But after that, maybe we… do something normal? Grab a bite, or watch a movie, or…” I trailed off.

He glanced my way, head tilting. “Yeah. That’d be good.” A small, real smile. “I could use some normal.”

---