Chapter 9

Tim ran like his legs had a timer on them, every stride powered by pure panic and the knowledge that he couldn’t keep this pace much longer. His breath came in sharp bursts, the night air tasting like tin, his sneakers slapping against the gravel strewn rooftop in uneven rhythm. He hadn’t seen whoever was chasing him, hadn’t even caught more than a blur in his peripheral vision, yet he knew, with the same bone deep certainty that told him fire was hot, that there was more than one person chasing him. Worse if they caught him… that was it. Game over, life as he knew it, gone.

The rooftops of the buildings he ran across stretched ahead in an uneven patchwork slabs of tar, gravel, and rusted vents, the gaps between them more like panels in a comic strip than real architecture. Moonlight pooled in strange, perfect circles on the surfaces, every shadow looked drawn in with thick ink. It reminded him of those old Saturday morning cartoons, characters dashing across rooftops that bent the rules of physics, scenery looping if the chase went on too long. It should’ve been ridiculous, but the absurdity settled into place with that slippery, unquestioning logic dreams always had. Somehow, in this moment, this cartoon like rooftop world made sense.

His heart jackhammered as he spotted the next gap ahead, a manageable leap of only a few feet, doable under normal circumstances. There was a line of pigeon spikes strung along the far edge, glinting like a mouth full of crooked silver teeth. It didn’t scare him; in fact, a weird confidence bubbled up from somewhere in his gut. He could clear it. He knew he could clear it and perhaps it would even slow down his pursuers.

He looked back, like had done dozens of times, feeling like he needed to make sure he stayed ahead, but like every time before, he didn’t see anyone despite knowing they were there somewhere. At most he had caught hints of movement, a glimpse at a silhouette and despite not really seeing who was out there, he knew whoever was out there was smiling from the thrill of the chase.

It was then he heard a name called in a sing song feminine voice. “Taaaammyyy…” It hadn’t been shouted, It was more sung and drawn out, sticky sweet. The way cartoon villains sometimes crooned a hero’s name. The sound sliced through him, tripping some primal nerve, and his foot caught on a loose brick at the roof’s edge. It wasn’t his name, but at the same time he knew those speaking were calling out to him.

The momentary distraction was too much, he pitched forward with a yelp as his foot hit the edge of the roof, missing his timing to jump as he had kept running. Tim spun his arms around in windmills, them whirling about almost fast enough to be propellers as he tried to catch his balance, but it didn’t come. The moon swung sideways, and then the rest of the world followed.

Tim’s stomach lurched as his momentum carried him forward off the rooftop. His first panic was sharp and specific, he was going to land right on the pigeon spikes. He could already picture himself skewered, not in pain or dead, but stuck like a ragdoll on display. Despite the terrible turn of luck with the fall the moment of dread never landed. Instead, he dropped just past the row of spikes and rammed hard into a taut metal coax cable that caught him across the chest that knocked the breath out of him as it refused to budge. On instinct he gripped onto the cable to not fall despite his breath being knocked out of him. His own momentum caused him to spin forward over it at a rapid pace like a gymnast on fast forward.

It wasn’t a singular slow spin, disorienting revolution after revolution that caused everything to whip around him rapidly. Things whipping past him so fast the skyline became streaks of gray and white. The world blurred each spin punctuated by the faint, awful ripping sound as the fabric of his clothing gave way a little more win each turn as his clothing got caught on the very spikes he had been worried he was going to be impaled upon. His hoodie tore first, fluttering away in strips, his T-shirt shredded cotton peeling off his back in the rush of wind. At the same time the denim of his jeans gave way, splitting down the seams with a sharp pop that made him flinch.

By the third rotation, he wasn’t sure which way was up. Tim flailed uselessly, sneakers on his feet going flying as he kicked empty air, the disorientation of it all leaving him once more succumbing to gravity. The cold night air slapped at bare skin that hadn’t been bare seconds before. Somehow, the humiliation of being naked got through his dizzy mind even as birds seemed to be spinning just over and around his head, that he was pretty sure was a mental illusion even as a blush came to his face. Yet still he twirled through the air towards another line strung between the building to try laundry.

The laundry line hit him before he even had time to register what it was.

One moment, the world was still a whirling smear of rooftops and stars, the next something soft yet unyielding snapped tight across his hips. The impact yanked him forward mid-fall, the cord stretching just enough to stop him from plunging before snapping him back like a slingshot.

The jolt **** his legs together, his thighs clamping instinctively and then he realized what had caught him, a pair of light blue panties with a little pink bow. Not just brushing against them, not just tangling in the fabric, he was inside them, wearing them somehow from the fall. The elastic waistband had somehow flipped forward and sprung over his hips, and now the silky, cool material clung to him like they’d been pulled on with deliberate precision. The sudden pressure cupped him and pushed everything tight against his body, compressing his groin in a way that sent a sharp, startled jolt up his spine.

His breath, what little he’d regained, vanished again in a short, shocked gasp. The cord still hummed with the tension of the stop, making him bounce in place like laundry caught in a wind gust. There hadn’t been a spike of pain as his privates practically were crammed up inside his body, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t felt a great deal of discomfort as the front of the underwear, now the only thing he was wearing, had a flat, feminine front.

The absurdity barely had time to sink in before the line reached the limit of its stretch and whipped Tim forward once more. The clothespins held a full row of panties that had been hung out to be dry, but the clothes pins holding the panties he was wearing snapped free one after another, releasing him in a flurry of pastel fabric that fluttered around him like confetti.

He barely had a second of weightless drop before his trajectory slammed him into another sagging wire, this one heavy with bras, their cups swaying lazily in the night air as if mocking the speed and **** of his arrival.

The impact with the bra line jolted through his arms as he flailed, instinctively grabbing at anything to stop the fall. Tim’s fingers slipped uselessly on satin cups and thin straps, the line swaying under his weight. He hooked one arm over it in desperation, the sudden stop making his head loll forward as the world continued to spin around him in dizzy loops.

His chest pressed awkwardly into the dangling bras, the cups swinging against his ribs with every sway of the line. He tried to haul himself up, but his grip kept sliding, the slick fabric refusing to give him any leverage. Somewhere in the chaos, straps wound themselves around him, he didn’t know how, didn’t care, he just wanted safety. Before he could get free, the sway carried him sideways toward the building beside him. He slammed into it hard enough to knock the air from his lungs again, his bare shoulders wedging through an open window, and stopping his fall. Tim’s eyes practically spun in his head as the world seemed to keep moving, he was so dizzy that he thought he could be sick.

A wave of warm, perfumed air hit him, hairspray, nail polish remover, something floral filled the room just as startled gasps rang from inside. “Oh, I see you, you little creep!” a woman’s voice barked. “Think you can peek in here?”

Panic flooded through Tim, he twisted violently, his arms pinned awkwardly by the window frame, the line still biting into his skin from behind. His feet scrabbled against the wall, sneakers long gone, toes finding just enough purchase to push. With one final shove, his shoulders popped free and the tension on the line yanked him backward like it was made of rubber. He shot away from the salon window in a blur, the bras that had entangled him pulling snug against his chest as if they’d been fastened there on purpose. His stomach flipped, the skyline tilting, his ears ringing as he was launched toward the next rooftop obstacle.

Tim hurtled backward through the air, but even in the blur of motion, his mind latched onto one strange, impossible fact. His face felt… different. The cool night air didn’t just sting his skin, it caught on something smooth, almost waxy, and the faint chemical tang of hairspray clung to his nose.

When the skyline spun into view again, he caught a distorted reflection in a darkened office window. For a dizzy, floating second, he didn’t recognize himself at all. Wide, dark lashes framed pretty hazel eyes that looked unnaturally big and bright, shaded with a warm sweep of copper and gold. Perfectly drawn eyeliner flicked outward into crisp wings at the corners, giving him a catlike tilt. His lips… God, his lips were painted a deep, glossy red, the kind of color that looked plucked straight from an old movie poster and the hair…. It wasn’t his anymore, not the messy, wind blown mop he’d had when he started running, instead he saw soft, glossy blonde waves curled toward his cheeks in a style straight out of the forties, pinned in perfect swoops that framed his face like a photograph in an issue of House Wives magazine. Even mid flight he could feel the set in it, the stiffness of lacquered curls holding their shape no matter how the air whipped at them.

The absurdity of it struck him like a brick. He hadn’t been in that window more than a second, maybe two and yet he was now dolled up like a pin up girl dropped into a rooftop chase scene. No smudges, just flawless, dream perfect glam, like a makeup counter had exploded onto his face and a hairdresser’s hands had worked at lightning speed.

The reflection vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the vertigo inducing drop of another gap between rooftops. He didn’t have time to process, to think about why he looked like he’d stepped out of a forties beauty ad, the wind was roaring in his ears again, the bra strap biting against his back and shoulders. Tim’s breath coming in shallow, useless bursts. His ribs ached from every jolt, his stomach sloshed like water in a bucket.

Line after line passed by that he tried to grab, till he got closer to one lower than the others, angled strangely, sagging under the weight of something heavier, Dresses. Long, swaying dresses in bright colors, their hems fluttering like flags in the breeze.

He tried to twist, to grab, but the momentum had him locked in legs bicycling uselessly. The fabric hit him like a curtain drop, the cool, smooth material slapping across his bare skin and wrapping around him as he tore through the row. A dozen clothespins pinged loose in rapid fire succession, the garments tangling in him as though they’d been lying in wait. A pale yellow one, with a high neckline snagged more firmly than the rest, whipping around his shoulders and chest, twisting tight at his waist before snapping fully free of the line.

The **** spun him sideways, the falling dress swirling around him like a parachute before snapping against his thighs. He clawed at it, trying to tear it off, but his dizzy hands couldn’t find the seams. Incredibly, impossibly, it settled on him as though it had been tailored to fit. The cool fabric skimming over the bra he had ended up wearing, the skirt settling in swishing folds around his hips. He didn’t even know how the fastenings had closed, yet they had.

His vision wavered, the around him rolled past again. Somewhere far below, traffic lights winked like lazy eyes. Tim barely registered the next rooftop rising to meet him, he hadn’t even realized he had been flung up more into the air, he had lost all notion of what was up or down has he had been pulled on one line and then the next, each of them moving like they were made of industrial strength rubber instead of twine, but moving as he was Tim didn’t land on the rooftop. He’d overshot the edge, smacking into the wall just below it with a head smacking thud, his only protection the cement like styled hair that protected him l like a helmet. His fingers scrambled for a grip, finding none leaving him sliding down the brick face, gravity taking hold as he dared to look down.

What he saw was the ground rushing up like a black tide. His stomach dropped straight through him. For one suspended heartbeat he thought, stupidly, about how this is where he would die. Closing his eyes, Tim didn’t dare or even care to look. He was so tired from running, at least it was coming to an end, yet still he clenched his jaw, feeling his teeth press tightly against one another, but instead of a hard slam, he felt something else, something lighter.

The air punched out of him as he sank into something warm and solid. Hands, huge and sure, slid under his knees and behind his shoulders, gathering Tim up as if he weighed nothing. He blinked his eyes open, feeling dazed, the action making his flutter his long lashes as he found himself cradled bridal style against a broad chest that smelled like clean laundry and campus gym soap.

“Jake?” Tim asked, shocked to see one of the leaders of his fraternity… one he hoped to become a member off, the man holding him, catching him from falling to his ****. “You saved me.”

Cartoon heart eyes actually floated above Jake’s head, little pink bubbles popping lazily, as if the night itself had turned into a panel from some ridiculous comic.

“You know my name? Well, if I saved the life of the most beautiful falling angel, I think I should at least know your name.”

Tim’s eyes went wider, his head was still spinning, but it dawned on him what he looked like. “I… ahh… I need to get out of here.” The older boy’s arms didn’t seem to struggle at all holding his weight, he had said he needed to go, but really he still needed to run but he wasn’t even sure he could considering how bad off he was from the vertigo of the ordeal.

“While you are barefoot? How about I carry you anywhere you want to go. You think I saved you, but taking you somewhere is the least I can do to repay you for such a beautiful girl falling into my life.”

Panic started to overcome Tim, his heart beating more rapidly as their faces grew closer, like Jake was about to kiss him, but before their lips met he suddenly let out a gasp as he sat up right. Once more Tim found himself laying on the floor, between the two beds.

“It was a dream…” he said, even as most of the dream started to fade away like most dreams did for him when he awoke, leaving small fragments behind that made even less sense out of context.