Stretching The Truth

The August breeze blew against my exposed skin while some classic rock song played in the background. I stood furthest from the handcrafted French doors as humanly possible, being able to breathe for the first time all evening. I observed through the pixelated glass behind me as everyone—well almost everyone—mingled with an alcoholic beverage in hand. A sigh escaped my lips as I started my third cup of Pepsi—caffeine being my preferred choice of drug.

I leaned against the railing in front of me, sipping from the plastic cup between my hands, studying the towering structures across the Hudson River. The stereo system inside caused an incessant vibration throughout the vicinity. Every once in a while someone slipped outside to have a cigarette and I'd be forced to exchange a generic greeting. However, for the most part, I was just another fixture within the monotony of the night.

The chilliness of the wind clung to my skin, causing my body to become covered in goosebumps. I shivered despite wrapping my arms against my chest, desperately wishing I had brought a sweatshirt with me. The cancer stick wedged between my fingers smoldered like the ashes lazing around a campfire. My vision examined the translucent smog as it disappeared into the city's skyline.

"You're aware this building has a strict no smoking policy, right?" he questioned as though the tone of his voice was right there.

I jolted at the sound of his footsteps coming rear me, my arms flinging backward and knocking the cup out of my hand. A hiss escaped my lips when the dark liquid splashed across my white t-shirt and denim jeans. My foot slid out from underneath me, my knees buckling from the pressure, my body descending toward the floor. He scrambled from his position, his hands flinging around my waist, his arms wrapping me tight against his broad chest.

The timber of his voice echoed in my ears. "Are you okay?"

I chose to ignore him for the time being, instead focusing my attention on regaining the last of my dignity. An audible swallow caught my attention, and I took the time to gaze up at him. His sapphire irises briefly met mine before he glanced away at the first opportunity.

"Uh, are you planning to let me go?" I asked awkwardly when he still hadn't released his grip.

"Oh, uh, yeah," he murmured sheepishly, removing his hands from my body.

I glared at him, and his cheeks flushed. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't realize you didn't hear me come out. Is there anything I can get you?"

"Yeah, a towel would be great," I snapped.

"Uh, yeah, I can get one."

"And, no, I didn't know this building had a no-smoking policy," I crushed the half-finished cigarette with my sandal.

His eyebrows furrowed together as if he couldn't quite figure me out. The black wire framed glasses he wore hid his cobalt-colored eyes—they weren't dilated or glossy like I had expected. He wore dress shoes, black slacks, a button-up shirt, and a loosened tie around his neck. His black hair was trimmed shorter in the back, longer layers lining his forehead, but styled in a way to keep the strands out of his eyes.

When I impatiently raised an eyebrow, he gave me a silent look before venturing back inside. For several minutes or so, I was left alone to figure out how to stop smelling like stale cigarettes and artificial sweeteners. Finally, I heard the satisfying click of the doorknob as he appeared with a hooded sweatshirt and bath towel. I glanced up from my phone screen while still in the middle of replying to a message I had received earlier.

After sighing, I tucked my mobile away and took the towel from his hand. However, after glancing at the hoodie he carried, I half pondered what room he found it in—and half questioned which person he stole it from. He appeared to sense my reluctance as he glanced down at the sweater in his hand. Although, instead of giving him a response, I continued to rub the towel against my skin.

"I borrowed it from my friend who lives here," he said as if that simple statement should've clarified everything.

I gazed at him skeptically. "Um, that's okay—"

"It's fine," he interjected. "Chris won't miss it for one night."

I rose an eyebrow surprised. "You know Chris?"

"Yeah, we've known each other since college," he explained.

His words caused a memory to flash in my mind. "Are you, Adrian, by chance? Because I think my friend, Mei, and him might be dating. I'm pretty sure he's mentioned you a couple times."

His facial expression turned neutral. "Yeah, that's me. Is your name, Alejandra, then? I think Mei's talked about you before as well."

I nodded in response.

He looked at me with deep concentration. "Then you have to know Chris won't mind you borrowing his sweater for one night."

"Thank you for the offer, but I'll be fine."

He gave me an undeterred expression, raising an eyebrow in defiance. "Have you looked in a mirror lately?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, is my appearance not up to your standards?" I drawled out sarcastically. "Spilling Pepsi on yourself tends to have that effect."

He audibly set his jaw, stepping closer to me. "That's not it at all! If you could see yourself, Ali, you'd realize your shirt is totally soaked and completely see through."

"My name is Alejandra, not Ali," I bite out. "And it's not my fault that my shirt got ruined."

He glanced over my body, his lips thinning in displeasure. "I realize what happened to your shirt is on me, but I'm offering you a solution here and I'm not sure what the problem is."

I felt my chest tighten. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because it's my responsibility to make this right," he answered with a curious expression as if he found my question to be odd.

A moment passed between us before I spoke again. "Hand me the sweater."

He gave me a tight-lipped smile. "Okay."

I glanced at him once more before I exchanged the towel in my hand for the sweatshirt. "Turn around. If you so much as sneak a glance, you can't hold me responsible if I punch you in the face."

He made a noise, and I released a breath.

"What is it?"

"Shouldn't you like, I don't know, make sure nobody can see you?" he clumsily gestured toward the doors behind us.

I felt my eyes widen when I forgot the blinds in the living room weren't drawn. The room was brightened by the various lights inside, and there was no way to stop the preying eyes that wondered. Somebody could effortlessly catch someone changing clothes on the balcony. And while most of the crowd wasn't paying attention to us, there were a few who had caught onto what was occurring outside.

"Stand in front of me," I commanded.

"Someone's demanding," he muttered while getting into place.

"I wouldn't be asking if I didn't need to. It's your fault I'm in this position in the first place."

He didn't respond as I tugged my top off and clothed my bare skin with the faded Mets sweatshirt. The hoodie's length ended at my midthigh while the sleeves stretched pass the end of my fingertips. After crunching the sleeves to my elbows, I picked up my stained t-shirt to inspect if it was worth saving. He moved out of the way, and I took the time to inspect the area for any damages.

"Can you hand me the towel?" I asked.

"Why?"

I stared at him for a moment. "So, I can do magic tricks. Why do you think? The floor isn't going to wipe itself up."

Instead of doing as I requested, he waved me off and bent over. "Nah, I got it."

"No, you don't have to do that."

"It's fine. I got it."

I scrutinized him on his hands and knees as he began to work. After a few seconds, I resigned into myself as I knew there was no changing his mind. "Fine."

I sat on the bench behind me while my eyes grazed over my surroundings. The balcony sat suspended in mid-air, indented into the side of the apartment complex, positioned on one of the top levels of the building. A complete patio set and hot tub were arranged on one side in front of the fireplace. On the other side a wooden swing for two sat in front of the vinyl fencing that climbed up the surrounding platform. Various trinkets, knickknacks, and flower arrangements could be located around the balcony.

"I'm sorry again," he apologized as he tugged at his back pockets.

I signed tiredly. "It's fine. You didn't mean for it to happen."

"No, it's not fine. I don't even know what I was thinking. The least I can do is give you money to replace the shirt I ruined."

I held my hand to deter him as he pulled out his wallet. "It's fine. Really, just keep your money. It's nothing a good stain remover, a toothbrush, and a little elbow grease can't take care of."

"Come on," he dryly chuckled, "let's be real here. We both know that stain is never coming out. So, here," he stood holding a wrinkled twenty-dollar bill between his fingers.

I internally seethed at his absurd behavior. "Please, just keep it."

"This should be enough," he stated shoving the paper bill into my palm.

"I told you I didn't want it," I snarled, throwing Andrew Jackson's crumpled face to the ground. "I told you—"

"—to keep it. Yeah, I know," he interjected tersely while he bent over and gripped the bill into his fist.

I nodded definitively and gazed out at the distant waters thrashing about, distorting the reflection of the city's lights that displayed upon the flowing river. My eyes glossed over the belligerent waves, observing as each one formed and disbanded at the origin. I tore my eyes away to raise my head just above the horizon to gaze at the darkened sky. A frustrated sigh left me when I couldn't spot any stars through the city's thick fog of light pollution.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to offend you."

I rose an eyebrow, surprised to still see him here. "It's whatever. Let's just forget about it."

He nodded in acknowledgment before changing the subject. "So, what brings you out here . . . all alone?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious, I guess."

I felt my guard going up. "Why are you out here then?"

His eyes flashed. "Parties aren't really my thing."

"Then why did you come if you dislike parties so much?"

"Chris invited me," he shrugged. "I didn't want to disappoint the birthday girl. Speaking of which, why aren't you be inside celebrating with her?"

"Mei has other friends to keep her busy."

He paused for a moment to choose his next words carefully. "Your friend's birthday only comes once a year. Wouldn't you rather be creating memories with her?"

I bristled. "I didn't realize I was my friend's keeper."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean? Please explain it to me."

"I just meant you're out here by yourself, and Mei's inside partying without you."

I snorted. "Did it ever occur to you that Mei was the one who sent me out here?"

His stiffened. "No, I guess not."

"That's what you get for speaking on things you know nothing about."

His blue eyes grazed my own before they settled on the floor. "Is that ring important to you?"

"What?" I was completely caught off guard.

"Your ring," he gestured toward my hand. "You've been fidgeting with it all night. Is it important to you?"

"It's just something I like to wear," I replied vaguely.

"Hmm," was all he said.

I caught myself in the act of watching him as I chewed on my bottom lip. He had a solemn expression as he walked forward to take a seat beside me on the bench. My body tensed with how close he was; although, before I could tell him to move elsewhere, I felt my phone vibrate beside me. I quickly retrieved my mobile, slid my finger across the lock screen, and opened the messaging app to view the text.

I know this is super last minute, and I hate asking since I know it's your day off, but I'm wondering if you could take my 9-3 tomorrow? I just found out my partner can't make it to court, and now the professor wants me to go instead.

"That looks important," he stated.

"Huh?" I slide my phone into my sweatshirt pocket.

"That must have been pretty important," he commented with a glance at my sweater.

"It's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Okay, what is this? The Spanish Inquisition?" I uprooted myself from my seat and made my way toward the door.

He gave me a blank expression. "Just trying to make conversation, I guess."

My lips pressed together as I recognized saying nothing was better than anything else in that split second. I stood less than a few feet away from him, my T-shirt crumpled between my hands. "Hey, uh, thanks for the sweatshirt, but it's getting late, and I'm gonna go."

His lips rose into a smile. "You're leaving so soon?"

"It's after ten o'clock," I replied. "I'm tired and have to be to work early in the morning. Just tell Chris I'll return his sweater as soon as I have it washed."

"Aren't you going to say goodbye to the birthday girl?" he questioned.

I glared at him. "Of course I will. What's it to you?"

"I just think it's important to always tell people goodbye."

"Right," I gave him a curious glance. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Adrian."

"You never did answer my question."

Now it was my turn to be stumped. "What question?"

"Why were you out here all by yourself?"

I grabbed the door handle, aiming to shove the door open. "I just wanted some fresh air."

It was with those words I choose to depart, becoming one with the crowd in a matter of seconds. As fast as a gust of wind came and went, his figure dissipated somewhere in the sea of sweaty bystanders. I went to the bathroom and stepped inside, closing and locking the door behind me. Standing in front of the vanity, I saw my reflection in the mirror as my hands gripped the smooth edges of the granite countertop. I took a deep breath through my nose, pondering back on what just happened, shaking my head with determination.

Never again.