93Rooftop Rocky and Balcony Bob
A/N: This was my entry for January's Song to Story Challenge ("People Watching" by Conan Gray). It won First Place (public vote), the Acapella Award (best stand-alone entry), and a judges pick (Thanks Patty!). Best of all, writing this helped me "unstick" my very stuck muse.
Him:
Armed with a cup of coffee, I look out over the Seattle sprawl and Puget Sound. It's another typical late fall morning here: cold, overcast, and verging on rain. I'm guessing this is typical; at least it's what I've experienced since moving here from Phoenix.
A splash of color and movement on the rooftop deck of a nearby building catches my eye. A woman in a purple jacket, blue leggings, and orange beanie is doing jumping jacks. I sip my coffee, watching her—the only other sign of life from thirty floors up.
After a moment she begins running, punching the air like a boxer in training, weaving her way around planters, leaping along steps and benches.
Now I'm transfixed.
I can't stop watching her.
And I don't mean that in a good way.
The longer I watch, the more certain I am that she's going to trip and faceplant, sprain an ankle, or self-impale on a shrub.
Yanking the glass slider open, I step out onto my balcony, intent on shouting at her to be careful. She probably won't hear me at this distance, but I feel compelled to try. But just as I open my mouth, Rooftop Rocky slows to a walk, hands on her hips, and I exhale in relief.
She circles around, pulling something from the pocket of her purple jacket. Her phone, I think. She makes some adjustment then pockets it again. Then she stretches, arms sweeping overhead, face tilted skyward. Yoga-time, perhaps?
Sipping my coffee, I abruptly spit it back out, bursting into laughter, and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
She's dancing!
If I thought her workout posed a threat to her well-being, her herky-jerky dance moves are only slightly less alarming.
I can't help smiling though, watching her erratic abandon. She's a glorious, joyous spot in this gray day.
My phone pings, reminding me of a Zoom meeting. I head inside still smiling, wondering if Rooftop Rocky's routine is a daily one.
Her:
He's up there again. On his balcony. Across the street and one building to the right. I only noticed him last week, but now he's up there every morning.
Maybe I'm crazy, but I wonder if he watches for me. It seems like too much of a coincidence otherwise. Then again, maybe he hangs out there even when I'm not here, noticing him. But if that is the case, that he's watching for me, it seems harmless enough. He's not some Peeping Tom spying on me through my windows, watching my every move. My apartment isn't even on this side of the building. Besides, he has no idea who I am, or what I even look like from this distance.
Balcony Bob is probably just bored out of his mind like everyone else stuck working from home these days. If watching me exercise on the rooftop keeps him entertained, he's welcome to it.
I decide to wave, just to see if he really is focused on me.
Holy shit!
He waved back!
He is watching me!
"Okay, since I've got your attention…" Unzipping my jacket, I grasp the bottom edge, lifting it as I turn and bend over, pointing my ass at him. Then I turn back and give him a curtsey.
Balcony Bob must have a sense of humor. Even at this distance, I can tell he's laughing. And applauding.
I wave him off as I head for the door, but I'm smiling. That was rather funny, I have to admit.
Him:
Damn.
She's going inside.
Did I offend her?
Like most people living in a city, I try to respect the privacy of others as much as I hope they respect mine. Maybe I shouldn't be watching her, but it's not like I'm staring into her bedroom window at night, watching her sleep.
That would be fucking creepy.
I hope she doesn't think I'm creepy. She waved first, so I waved back. And her little display-with-curtsey was funny, but maybe that was her telling me I'm an ass for watching her.
I hope that's not the last I'll see of Rooftop Rocky.
Her:
"Oh, Bella! I forgot to tell you... I met the nicest…"
"Nope."
"Nope? Why nope? You didn't even let me finish."
"Alice, I know where this is going. I don't want to hear all about 'the nicest guy who would be perfect for me.' These things never work out. But I promise, if I ever happen to run into Mr. Right, you'll be the first to know."
Alice slumps on her barstool, making a pouty-face at Jasper in the kitchen. He clearly heard the whole exchange. His smile shifts from me to her, and he shrugs as he goes back to chopping vegetables.
"This is where I would say, 'I told you so, Allie', except I know better than to do that," he says.
"Yes, you do." She smiles sweetly while rubbing at the outside corner of her eye with her middle finger, clearly flipping him off. He just laughs. I do too.
I've known them since high school. They were the perfect couple even back then. But not everyone is that lucky. I'm pushing thirty but I've gotten used to being single and I'm okay with it.
It's better than trying to be someone else for someone who doesn't really want the me that I am.
"Anybody planning on helping with prep?" Jasper asks, and Alice and I slide off our barstools to put on our aprons.
Him:
My phone vibrates. Even before looking, I know it's my mother, calling to remind me she's worrying about me.
"Hey, Mom."
"Hi, honey! Just calling to see how you're doing."
"You mean since we spoke three days ago?" I tease. But seriously, it's been three days. And I'm thirty.
"I worry that you're lonely! You're so far away. And your nearest friend lives in California."
"Mom, I'm fine. I can call my friends, and we still do online game nights. Besides, work is keeping me busy, so I'm not bored."
"Did you find out how long you'll be working from home?"
"Until the middle of next month."
"I wish you could chat with coworkers; not via Zoom or email, but in-office, in person."
"I know. It can't be helped."
"What about neighbors? Have you seen anyone else besides the man with the awful dog?"
"There's a couple with a baby three doors down and an elderly lady near the elevators, but I only saw them in passing."
She sighs. "I wish you were meeting people and making friends."
I doubt she wants to hear that I've been stalking a woman on a neighboring rooftop, so I keep that to myself.
"It's just hard now. I can't very well introduce myself to a stranger and suggest we hang out."
She laughs. "No. That would be ridiculous. And possibly unsafe."
"Exactly. So don't worry. I'm okay. I'll meet people here eventually."
"Yeah, I know. Well, I guess I'll call you again in a few days."
"I know you will."
She laughs again. "Take care of my boy."
"I will. You take care too."
Once I'm off the phone, I decide to treat myself to takeout instead of having another frozen dinner. There's a place nearby: AJ's Metro Grill. I pull up their menu on my phone and punch in the number for their free local delivery line.
Her:
I have two deliveries for this building.
Balcony Bob's building.
Not that I'd know him if I saw him.
After checking in with the concierge, I head up to the thirty-fourth floor to drop off dinner for some regular customers. Then I head down to the thirtieth floor.
The tall guy who answers the door seems surprised to see me but assures me that, yes, I've got the right apartment. He's really cute, raking his hand through his hair, stumbling over his words, bright green eyes studying mine as he fumbles for his wallet.
I'd try to flirt but I'm not good at that sort of thing. Instead, I just thank him for the generous tip.
Him:
It's her!
I'd recognize that purple jacket and orange beanie anywhere!
It's Rooftop Rocky! At my door. With my dinner.
She's pretty…long brown hair, open, friendly face, smiling lips, big brown eyes…
I don't see any recognition in those eyes. Should I tell her I'm the weirdo on the balcony? Probably not. And where the fuck is my wallet? Oh, other pocket.
"Uh, here you go." I give her twenty bucks. It's either that or two ones but I'd rather be a generous weirdo than a cheap one. "Thanks. Have a good rest of your evening."
"You, too! Thank you very much!" She smiles.
I was wrong. She's not pretty; she's beautiful. And I'm at a complete loss as to what more I could say to her as she turns away to leave.
But just then, the elevator pings down the hall, followed by a series of muffled yet deep, bellowing barks.
"Wait! Stop!" I yell. "Come back! Quick!"
Rooftop Rocky looks back at me like I'm nuts. Until she notices the barking, much louder now, and a man yelling, "Luther! No! Luther, come back! Bad dog!"
The hound from hell rounds the far end of my hallway, barking like a maniac, leash flapping behind him.
That's all it takes for the girl to launch herself into flight, racing back to my open door.
Them:
She crosses the threshold, I slam the door, and the Devil Dog loses his mind just outside.
"Luther! Luther, come back!" we hear his owner yell.
"Luther isn't a very good listener, is he?" the girl asks, a bit breathless.
"No, he's not," I chuckle. "Nor is he aptly named—he's more of a Lucifer, I'd say."
She laughs. "Does this happen often?" She gestures at the door as dog and owner race through the hallway, barking and yelling.
"I just moved here two weeks ago, but this is the third time since then, so yes."
"Is Luther as vicious as he sounds?"
"I have no idea. I've never stuck around long enough to find out." Maybe that wasn't a very manly thing to admit, but she's giggling at my admission, so it was worth it.
"How long does this usually last?" She looks out the peephole as the barking and yelling pass by again.
"Awhile."
"I'm sorry to impose like this but thank you for saving me. I'm Bella, by the way."
"I'm Edward. And you're welcome to hang out; it's not an imposition." I smile, hoping she doesn't think I'm an axe murderer.
"Thanks." She smiles as she pulls her phone from her pocket. "I'm just going to send a quick text to work…"
"Of course." She definitely thinks I'm an axe murderer.
I wander into the kitchen with the food. "Would you like a bottled water? Or soda?"
"I'll take a water, thanks."
I join her in the living room where she's looking out at the lights.
"Is this a corner unit?"
"It is."
"You have an amazing view…Balcony Bob." I look at her in confusion, and she bursts into a peal of laughter. "West-facing corner unit, six floors from the top. You're my stalker!"
My face must turn every shade of red as I stammer out how I couldn't help watching her because she looked so alive and happy and carefree.
Her:
I didn't return to work that evening. Instead, Edward shared his takeout, and we talked and laughed for hours.
Sometime after midnight, he walked me to my apartment building.
The next day, I told Alice I thought maybe I'd met Mr. Right.
Three weeks later, we hung a bag of dog treats on Luther's doorknob as a thank you.
Five months later, my lease was up, and I moved in with Edward.
A year and a half ago, Balcony Bob married his Rooftop Rocky.
A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it! Place and Time will update this weekend.