Blair Knox

The city stretched out beneath you — a glittering ocean of lights, pulsing and alive. The rooftop wasn’t supposed to be open to the public, but the broken lock on the fire escape had practically invited you up. You just wanted a quiet place to breathe, to think.

You weren’t expecting someone else to already be there.

“Bold move,” a voice drawled from the far corner.

You turned. Blair Knox leaned against the ledge, leather jacket thrown carelessly over a vintage band tee, dark eyeliner framing eyes that held the city’s glow like secrets. A cigarette smoldered lazily between her fingers.

“I was gonna say the same thing,” you replied.

She smirked, gaze raking over you with amused curiosity. “Most people don’t climb seven flights of stairs for a view. You running from something?”

“Maybe,” you said. “You?”

“Always.”

For a while, you stood in silence — two strangers sharing stolen space above the world. It was strange, how natural it felt. Easy. Like you were supposed to meet up here in the middle of nowhere.

But then a sharp beam of light swept across the rooftop door. Voices followed.

“Security,” Blair muttered, flicking her cigarette into the void. “Guess they noticed the open lock.”

“Should we—”

“Run? Yeah. Obviously.”

She grabbed your hand without warning and bolted, dragging you toward the opposite end of the roof. Laughter spilled from her lips as your feet pounded the concrete, adrenaline chasing your pulse. The two of you ducked behind an air duct just as the guard stepped out, flashlights sweeping the dark.

When the danger passed, Blair leaned against the wall, breathless and grinning. “Well,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from her face, “I guess that makes us accomplices now.”