Chapter 3: Moonstruck

When I pick up the bracelet, I feel a jolt travel up my arm and curl around my heart like smoke. I drop the heavy golden band and it rolls off the table and clatters to the floor. Then, a thump from the roof.

Whoever dropped this onto my bedside is still nearby. I push the skylight the rest of the way open, climb onto my bedside table, and wiggle out the window. Despite wearing only an oversized t-shirt and booty shorts, I’m warm in the windy October air.

While the roof is dimly lit by the city’s glow, there’s no direct light on the gravel rooftop and I regret my brash decision to wiggle through the window to confront, who knows what in the middle of the night.

I stand still, letting my eyes adjust. Slowly, I begin to register the details on offer from the moonlight and the city glow. On the edge of the rooftop, I finally make out the silhouette of a man. I can see his tousled curls and his strong, tall frame. And I know who he is.

“I had to see you. I should’ve left,” he calls out from across the roof.

“Did you follow me home? Who are you?” my reply is a mix of emotions. While I know I should be creeped out and I normally would be, my heart is leaping into my throat. I take three steps toward him and he puts his hands out. I can see the whites of his eyes shining in the moonlight.

“Please, I should’ve left as soon as I knew you had the bracelet. We can’t talk now. Not like this. Not yet. Just go back inside.”, he’s speaking quietly but I can hear every word.

While his English is clear, I hear an unplaceable accent in the vowels and the ‘R’ sound. I want to get closer. I want to know the texture of his skin and the smell of his hair. Despite the fact that he’s the one showing up at my place in the middle of the night when he shouldn’t even know my first name, I’m the one that feels like a creep. Maybe this is why I bristle, yet again.

“Don’t tell me what to do. You woke me up. You were staring at me in public. You need to tell me what you’re doing. You need to tell me what’s going on.”

I can see a glint of a smile, real teeth this time. The man steps to the edge of the building. Lifting a hand, he calls out.

“Soon, Petra. I can’t tell you more yet. I wish I could. Put on the bracelet and keep it on. That’s important. Wear the bracelet. And get some sleep!” With that, he steps off the roof. I feel a wild yelp escape my throat and run, barefoot over the gravel, catching my foot on a pipe hiding in the shadows and sprawling face first before making it to the edge.

I don’t want to look over the lip of the building. No one could survive that jump, not without breaking every bone in their body. But when I finally bring myself to look over, he’s not on the ground, sprawled out flat as I imagined.

I take in the scene, at least what I can see of it in the low light. There’s no ledge to land on. Nothing to break a fall. I gaze down at the alley as the sun lightens the horizon.

By the time I make my way back to the skylight, cold, confused, and bruised, I’ve decided that this is some elaborate prank. He must’ve had a truck waiting below to catch him for some strange Aladdin balcony moment. Either that or he owns a flying carpet. Saying “get some sleep” before pulling that sh*t. What a joker.

I slip back through the skylight, tottering on the nightstand. I miss the coordination that came with my initial burst of adrenaline. I pull the skylight down and make sure it’s locked tight.

This time, when I pick up the bracelet, there’s no shock. I don’t feel much of anything besides curiosity. Shrugging, I slip it over my hand and onto my wrist. It fits comfortably, strangely soft around my flesh for a cold metal band. I feel a tightness around my heart loosen.

Settling back down into my blankets, I’m blessed with yet another surprise. I fall into a deep sleep without another thought about the night’s strange events.

When I begin to stir, cozy under my comforter, I’m sure the incident on the roof was a dream, a continuation of the strange nightmare in the cave. I wouldn’t put it past strangers in New York to follow someone home and pull strange stunts on the roof but it’s certainly not like me to go up there and interact with an A-level stalker in the middle of the night.

Even a stalker with beautiful, mysterious gifts.

I shift on the pillow, and feel the gold band around my wrist, knowing as I stroke the etched surface that the meeting on the rooftop was no dream. I wiggle my stiff, banged up toes and feel the bruising from my fall.

Nope, no dream. Slipping out of bed and down the stairs of the loft, I head to the large windows in the living room for better light. The bright morning sun is pouring in, making the gold markings in the band sparkle.

The design seems abstract at first, with an intricate, interwoven pattern that’s both geometric and smoothly circular. I run my thumb over the metalwork. I can’t accept this gift. I’m not just going to wear it around.

What if someone is trying to frame me? What if a stunning man who has the intense stare of a panther is trying to rope me into some jewel thief conspiracy? I picture him in a black turtleneck and beanie with black leather gloves on his wide hands. Yes, he’d make a wonderful jewel thief.

While getting ready for work, I slip the bracelet on and off my wrist a dozen times. I can’t think of a reason I should wear it.

How would I explain my sudden accessory upgrade to my coworkers? Who wears nice jewelry while serving drinks and bussing dirty dishes? Why would I take something so valuable on the subway? Then again, it was so beautiful and that mysterious man who was probably manipulating me for some reason yet to be revealed told me to wear it.

An hour before my shift, I’m staring at myself in the full-length mirror by the door. My face is bare of makeup, freckles standing out against my caramel skin, and the evidence of last night’s escapades bruising the patches under my eyes.

I’m wearing my ill-fitting catering uniform, lent to me by the catering corporation until I use a paycheck to pay for one that fits. Fat chance. I take in my look.

A white button-up tucked into black pants. A black apron waits for me in a dewy kitchen in Midtown. This look makes the decision easy. The gold bracelet is conspicuously against the dress code. It’s lipstick on a pig.

I sigh. This bracelet is going to stay safe at home. I run back to the loft and tuck it under my pillow like a little child would. In this house full of priceless antiques, it would be just my luck for a thief to take my new treasure.

I change my mind once more and put it on my nightstand. Out in the open, where the stranger left it. It feels better there. Safer. I rub the design once more, a comforting wave of pleasure rolling into my core as I do. Then I climb down from the loft and head out the door without looking back.