The heat was blistering; the dense, muggy air hung low around then, smothering them. The roof of the building was open to it all: the humidity and the NYC noise and the warm, golden beams from the ever sinking sun.
Summer twilight. Almost nine p.m. and everything was just perfect.
Bright red cocktails sat on the cast iron garden table across the concrete from where they stood, condensation trickling down the sides as the limes grew turgid and the ice melted.
They stood at the edge where the concrete lip at the edge of the roof reached mid-thigh, basking in the sun. She held her arms out like she was Rose in Titanic, simply enjoying the bliss in which she found herself.
And he stood behind her, his arms circling her, drawing swirling, tangled, blooming doodles across her beautifully smooth belly. He pressed soft lovers' kissed into her shoulder and her neck, coasting across her shoulder blades and traversing her spine to climb the planes of perfection he was so native to in order to caress her other side.
She leaned back into him and sighed contentedly, her eyes closed, her chin tilted to the sky, and the most glorious kind of butterflies dancing in her stomach.
A sudden summer breeze swept past them, cooled them so pleasurable that both moaned in satisfaction and her hair blew out behind her, tickling his ears.
They would have been so happy to stay frozen in that moment forever, its clarity and ecstasy captured in its entirety, preserved forever in a pair of like minds, so completely in sync, attuned to each other's every need, wish and whim.
She reached back and rested the palms of her hands softly on his hips, tucking her thumbs into the pockets of his denim cut-offs. She giggles as his hands traced their flowering pattern northwards, poking at her halter bikini, lifting her vest (or what was left of it, as she'd decided to turn it into something of a cropped fashion around midday) to dance his fingers delicately atop the scar that remained there.
Kate no longer resented that scar. It no longer posed any sort of problem or confusion for her, no pain nor sadness. It was a part of her and now she was proud to call it her own. And she knew he loved it too, knew that her Rick admired her strength and durability, for he'd told her so frequently. He was thinking about the same thing as he stroked the toughened skin there. It was truly beautiful. He could not be happier than when he was here, with her, and they were enjoying their peace. The scar merely proved she held ferocity deep down; she had the resilience of a polar bear enduring long, cold winters, and the glittering brilliance of a learned tigress, owning her lands while protecting all that was in it, and yet still she had a place for the intricate delicacy and attention to detail of a spider, weaving a magical dream each day, catching him with every stand and keeping him, rapture and enthrallment and always anticipation of her next surprise binding him.
He began to walk backwards, guiding her to their drinks. They remained together, every visible inch of skin seeking out the others, like polarity drew them together with inconceivable force, as they drank deeply, enjoying the refreshment that came with the sharp and powerful fruit tastes and textures followed by the bite of alcohol which settled in their stomachs, stirring up a storm, the zing of lightning propelling them together, sinking into a long, sweaty kiss.
"Let's go," she whispered as she nipped his ear.
That was his Kate, ever keeping him on his toes.
She took his hand and tugged him with her, through the rusting door and down all the stairs, through four stories, her own apartment on the third floor, their flip-flop sandals slapping the concrete surfaces of each step. They ran through the black and white tiled lobby and past the doorman, bursting through the doors.
They sprinted side by side down the sidewalk, dodging the last of the summer shoppers and those businessmen and women daring enough to walk home in suits, their ties loosened and their jackets draped across their arms, dark patches emerging beneath their arms. They ran past shop owners pulling down their metal grates and city workers packing up their vans and schoolchildren parting with their friends, making further plans for their respite from the school semester.
They held onto each other, their hands grasped so Rick could still rub circles just below her knuckles. When they reached a fire hydrant, they jumped and threw their joined hands in the air, hitting the ground again at a full run, dodging a flock of Asian tourists with fancy cameras and sleepy eyes. All the way they snuck glances at each other, and neither could prevent from smiling when they thought of how wholly the person beside them devoted themselves to the other, thought of the extent to which either would go to be with the other, whether that be a rescue from danger, a journey around the world or just a short walk between their apartments to quench the insufferable need they felt for each other during the week, thought of them as belonging to each other, together, one unit, their hearts beating in time, always.
Rick recalled that he had once told Kate that if she didn't believe in even the possibility of magic, she'd never ever find it. And, oh, how truthful he'd been! Here he was, pounding his feet on the sidewalk beside the one thing that wishes were simply too ordinary to conjure, dreams too unexceptional to invoke and the imagination too conventional to summon. He had had faith in magic, for magic was all that was great enough to have presented him with this wonder, this marvel, this phenomenon of a woman, beside whom he ran, never before as happy as he was now.
They flew through street after street as the sun dulled to a glow, still bright enough that though the streetlights had been turned on, they were unnecessary and cast no beam of their own.
Soon they reached the gates of Central Park, and, with a glance at one another, they leaped inside, cutting across the grass to the nearest bridge, which turned out to be Dalehead, and continued to run. They breathed hard and sweat ran off them like rain. Their clammy hands slipped, but they held on tight, held on for all they were worth.
Neither knew where they were going and neither cared where, nor how long the walk – or jog – home would be. All they needed was each other's company and nothing more as they ran through the streets like freshmen, earning glances and smiles from runners far fitter than them and the last of the trailing businesspeople. Even other couples sitting on benches, laying out on the grass and leaning against trees, looked up and smiled at adults twice their age running along hand in hand.
In minutes they had made it across Central Park. They just went in a straight line until they hit Broadway, which they followed. Until Kate gasped, then laughed, and tugged Rick sideways with such force he almost fell, and he laughed, too.
Between his extremely ragged breaths, Rick laughed even more, laughed with pure joy, pure joy that exuded from his every pore, as he realised where Kate was taking him.
At last they stopped, and their breathing was so heavy neither of them could speak for a moment. They stood holding hands in the waning sunlight. They looked at each other, and Kate wore the most devilish of grins. Rick's eyes melted and Kate noted how bright a blue they had shifted slightly to this summer, like the clearest waters, found in exotic places like Coratia or Italy.
They walked, calmly, forward, with confident strides unhindered by their exhaustion.
The sound of water became louder before they felt its cool relief and wetness, before they tasted it as it poured down on them.
Kate had taken her Rick to the Lincoln Centre fountain, and in it they danced.
They danced to a rhythm only they knew, a melody silent to all ears but their own, with a pulse felt deep in their cores, deep in their bones.
And as the sun at last faded beyond the horizon and they were plunged into the shadows cast by the large concrete and glass blocks around them, Rick kissed Kate gently, leaning in through the torrents of water shooting up around them.
His bare chest was slick as Kate covered every inch of it with her hands, as was his back, has arms, shoulders, neck and, lastly, his face. She pressed her hands on either side of his face and rose onto her tiptoes so that they were the same height. And she kissed him with passion, with commitment enough that he felt the fire inside her warming the falling water.
When they parted they held each other's elbows so they were a small distance apart and gazed into each other's eyes. What they saw was their own reflections, and, more than that, their love, reflected in the shimmering surfaces of those eyes. Those eyes.
"I love you, Rick," said Kate.
"Always," said Rick.
And they kissed again, standing in the glorious pounding water of the fountain under the starlight.
Together.
Always.