Page 63 of When the Lights Come On
I follow the instructions Youssef sent and get buzzed into the lobby a few seconds later. It’s all dark tiles and echoing floors, with a gurgling water feature and a guy sitting behind a desk. I start to wonder just how much Youssef is making as I cross over to the elevators.
The ride up to his floor has me considering pressing the down button and walking right back out. I went six years without clearing the air with him. There’s really no need to do it now, or ever. I could text him and call our ‘challenge’ off. I could tell him I don’t think we should see each other again.
But then the doors open with a ding, and my feet start pulling me down the hallway like magnets.
Youssef is right there, behind that door, and I know I’m not going to be able to walk away. I couldn’t if I tried. I need an answer. I need to know how we ended up here.
I raise my fist and knock on the dark grey door.
What is it with this place and dark grey?
Youssef pulls it open before I can knock a second time, and I freeze with my hand still in the air. My breath catches as his brown eyes lock on mine.
I wonder when I’m going to stop reacting like this every damn time I see him.
He really is breathtaking, though. His face is just the right combination of soft curves and sharp angles. His hair is a little wet, like he had a shower not too long ago, and the thought makes my pulse kick up a notch. I can see the dark marks on his t-shirt left by the water dripping off his hair, and my fingers itch to pull the whole thing off him.
I let my hand drop to my side and clear my throat.
“You live in a cave, you know that? Everything in this building is the colour of a rock.”
He bursts out laughing and steps back so I can come inside. “Are you complaining? Seems strange, considering all you wear is black.”
“That’s not the same thing. At least my apartment building doesn’t look like it should be subterranean.”
“I don’t know,” he says as I kick off my shoes. “Your bedroom is pretty lair-like.”
He’s kind of right.
“Mmm,” I answer instead of coming up with a rebuttal. I’m too busy taking in the contents of his condo.
The place is on the smaller side. From what I can tell, it’s a one bedroom. The exposed concrete ceiling and stark white walls stand out more than they would if he’d actually decorated. Besides a couch and coffee table, there’s not much in the living room besides a pile of cardboard boxes.
“Did you just move?”
“Uh, a couple months ago. I’m trying out a new look. It’s called boxed chic.”
I snort.
He laughs and shakes his head. “Did you justsnort?”
“I believe the proper term is ‘sound of derision.’”
He laughs again. “Well, despite your derision, I’m still going to ask you if I can get you anything. Water? Coffee? Um, beer? I think I have tea somewhere too...”
He starts pulling open the dark wood cabinets in the open concept kitchen, but I shake my head.
“I’m good.”
“You sure?”
“Mhmm.” I move past the entryway and cross the room to the huge window overlooking the balcony. Beyond it, the view is mostly low rooftops and other people’s apartments.
“I wish I could have gotten something on a higher floor,” Youssef says as he comes over to join me. “The view from the gym here is gorgeous. You can see the river and all the downtown lights and even a bit of Old Montreal. It’s open twenty-four seven, so sometimes I go up there after I’ve played a show and turn off all the lights so I can just watch the city and listen to music.”
I glance at him and find him staring out the window, a faraway look on his face like he’s up there right now. I can picture him so clearly, sitting cross-legged in front of some floor-to-ceiling window, headphones on while he looks down at the rushing world.
I can picture myself there, too. We didn’t have much of a city to look down on, but we used to sit side by side and take turns picking songs to listen to while we sat on this pedestrian bridge and watched the city buses make their rounds long after our curfew.
