Chapter 6: Celestial Lessons
The cold of the concrete seeped through his jeans, a sharp contrast to the feverish heat still thrumming under his skin. Rohan stared at the sky, its vastness somehow less intimidating now. Brenda’s weight settled beside him, her shoulder warm against his. She lit a cigarette, the flare of the Zippo illuminating the smirk on her face for a brief, golden moment.
“You okay?” she asked, her voice a low, rough thing that carried over the wind. She exhaled a plume of smoke that the night snatched away.
“I don’t know,” he said honestly. His body felt both foreign and profoundly his own. “I think I might be in shock.”
She laughed, a genuine, delighted sound. “Good shock, I hope. You’re full of surprises, Rohan Kapoor. The quiet ones always are.” She nudged him with her elbow. “For a guy who claims inexperience, you’re a remarkably quick study.”
He swallowed, the memory of her mouth on him, of the stars spinning overhead, making his head light. “I had a good teacher.” The words felt daring. He liked it.
“Flatterer.” She took another drag. “You’re shivering.”
“It’s cold.”
“It’s also three in the morning on a rooftop in November. Come here.” She didn’t wait, just slid an arm around him, pulling him into the solid, unapologetic warmth of her side. He went willingly, his head finding a spot against her shoulder. The scent of her perfume, mingled with smoke and night air, was something he knew he’d never forget.
They sat in silence for a while, watching the occasional car cut a ribbon of light through the sleeping town below. The enormity of what was happening began to settle over Rohan, quieter and deeper than the initial shock.
“This is insane,” he murmured, not to her, but to the universe.
“Which part?” Brenda’s fingers absently traced circles on his arm.
“All of it. Me. You. Here. After… after the shower, I thought maybe that was it. A one-time… thing.”
“You thought I was just going to towel you off and send you back to your dorm with a pat on the head?” She sounded amused. “Sweetheart, when I make a promise, I keep it. I told you what I was going to do to you when we were dry. I’m a librarian. We’re meticulous about follow-through.”
He huffed a laugh into her jacket. The casual profanity, the ease with which she claimed her own desire, still stunned him. It was the polar opposite of the tense, hypothetical conversations about girls he’d had with friends in his dorm.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, her tone softer now.
“I’m thinking my Operating Systems midterm is in nine hours. And I can’t remember a single thing about process scheduling. All I can see is the curve of your hip under that streetlamp.”
“Priorities,” she said, grinning. “I like it. Don’t worry about your exam. You’ll ace it. You’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“The look of someone whose brain works a mile a minute. You’re probably deconstructing the whole evening into logical sequences right now.”
He was. He had been. Event A: shower. Event B: towel, her hands, the bed. Event C: rooftop, her mouth, the dizzying loss of control. The subroutine was flawless. The error handling, nonexistent.
“It doesn’t feel logical,” he admitted.
“Nothing good ever does, at first.” She stubbed out the cigarette. “We should get you inside before you turn into a Popsicle. And before Campus Security does their rounds. I’m not in the mood to explain why the head of periodicals is corrupting a student on the roof.”
He stood, his legs less steady than he’d hoped. She rose with him, fluid and sure. She brushed a piece of grit from his cheek, her thumb lingering. The playful glint was back in her eyes, but there was something else there, too. A scrutiny that made him feel seen, in all his trembling, overwhelmed entirety.
“You’re going to walk back to your dorm,” she said, adjusting his collar. “You’re going to get at least four hours of sleep. You’re going to crush that exam. And then, you’re going to come by the library after your last class.”
“I am?”
“Yes. You have an overdue book.”
“I don’t think I do.”
“You do now,” she said, and her smile was a secret just for him. “It’s a very specific text. One I keep behind the desk. I’ll check it out to you.” She leaned in, kissed him once, softly, on the mouth. It was a kiss that tasted of smoke and promise, utterly different from the hunger of before. It felt, somehow, more dangerous.
She turned and walked toward the roof access door, her figure a confident silhouette against the dim light. “Lock the door behind you on your way down, Rohan.”
Then she was gone. The rooftop was just a cold, empty place again. But the air still crackled with the aftermath of her. He touched his lips.
An overdue book. He stared at the door where she’d vanished, the reality of the coming day crashing back in—the exam, the routine, the facade of normal student life. He had to walk through that door, down the stairs, and into all of it, carrying this colossal, warm, terrifying secret inside him.
He took a deep, shaking breath of the cold night, and followed her.