On The Rooftop Novels & Stories

The city below was bubbling with cars and festivity. The rooftop itself was sleek, with dark marble floors stretching toward a long, elegant glass railing that overlooked the city, and large flower pots stood on each corner. Dontrell’s taste. Clean, classic, luxurious. If this were my rooftop, I’d have made it different. No distractions. More security. A place to break bones and spill blood, not admire the fucking skyline. But right now, there was only one distraction standing at the edge of the rooftop’s railings—Andrew.

"I don't know, really. Maybe he's just talking with hyperbolic words but yeah, he said he'll be waiting for you." She doesn't know why, but she still made her way up on the rooftop. The way to the rooftop is nothing but a narrow metal staircase that will give you a full view of where you'll land if ever you fall. The way up the nasty rooftop is sure scary but it's perfect if you wanted to die. "Why the hell would he go up here just to talk to me?" She asks herself. When she reached the rooftop, Jinan was there. Standing by the railing and taking deep loud breaths out of his body. It's like he's trying to meditate.

Silence, then, “I figured your day would end up… bad.” I raise a brow. “So you decided I needed a rooftop?” He nods. “I decided you needed somewhere to breathe a little.” *** Nathaniel and I are seated on the chairs in the middle of the rooftop. From where we’re seated, I’m able to look over at the far buildings in the city and the way the sun is already setting, the golden yellow color looking beautiful. Our table is set simply without anything excessive. And even the food isn’t much, but it’s done in a way that doesn’t really require me to think.

“Even at fifteen, you were a terrorist. I bet your dad couldn’t wait until you left for college.” “Mmhmm.” We push open the rooftop hatch, stepping into the open air. The view is eerie but beautiful. The rooftop is flat and scattered with gravel. Knox glances around. “So, what do we do now?” “Enjoy the view.” He squints. “The view is dark. Are we supposed to be seeing something?” I lie down on the dusty floor and pat the space beside me. “By view, I meant the stars. They look better from up here.”

Every hard footstep ricochets off the walls—mine, Ron’s, and Lydia’s above us—as we scramble up in a race against the clock. Above me, a door crashes open. Blinding outdoor light floods the grey space. I burst through a couple of seconds after her onto an isolated rooftop that overlooks the Teterboro tarmac. Lydia Moretti has stumbled to a stop at the chain-link fencing that marks the edge, cordoning off this rooftop from the maintenance drop below. Her chest heaves, sweat slicking her face as the realization dawns on her: there is nowhere left to run. She’s trapped between the New Jersey sky and the drop below as I come up the rear, my boots skidding on the gravel.

Marta was a force of nature, and no one in the building said no to Marta. Saturday arrived with a pale sun and a wind that carried the distant smell of the river. I climbed the last flight of stairs leading to the roof with Noah. The rooftop had been transformed. Strings of bare bulbs crisscrossed overhead, their warm glow fighting back the gray afternoon. A portable grill smoked and sizzled in one corner, manned by Marta's cousin Hector, who wore a chef's apron over his winter coat. A folding table sagged under the weight of foil-covered dishes, and a battered speaker propped on a cinder block poured Latin music into the cold air.

Julian looked at me as if the sight of my laughter was the only thing he’d ever wanted. “Rooftop?” he asked softly, once the music slowed. I nodded. He led me back through winding streets until we reached a tall building with a quiet terrace at the top. Lanterns flickered on the walls, casting soft golden halos. A table had been set—white cloth, two glasses, plates already waiting. The sea stretched wide beyond the rooftop, black and silver under the moon. “This wasn’t by chance, was it?” I asked, raising a brow.

The city lights glimmered like distant stars, but for us, they offered no comfort—only the harsh reminder of hunters closing in from every direction. We crouched behind a rusted HVAC unit atop a deserted rooftop, fog curling around our ankles, the streets below alive with shadows and movement. Travis’s fingers intertwined with mine, knuckles white. “You know,” he whispered, voice low but teasing, “I always wanted a dramatic night on a rooftop. Didn’t think it’d involve near-death experiences.”

Stepping onto the rooftop, I'm met with an awe-inspiring sight: a beautifully set table for two. A smile creeps onto my face, pleased with the meticulous work my employees put into decorating the rooftop for Hazel and me. Tonight, I want to celebrate her first day at work, to demonstrate the lengths I'm willing to go to win her over. With less than two months left to prove myself, I'm set to make her fall for me. And judging by Hazel's growing ease around me, it seems I'm making progress. As I approach the railing, I place my hands on it, gazing out at the breathtaking view of Italy. I don't often come up here unless it's to smoke or ponder things. It's been ages since I've truly appreciated

Scene – Elevator to the Hotel Rooftop Back with Leo, Helena, and Greg, the elevator doors slid open to reveal a quiet rooftop wrapped in fairy lights and late-night warmth. A waiter was already waiting with cupcakes, soda, and small flutes of grape juice. Leo whispered to Greg, “Told you the surprise would be worth it.” Tessy looked around. “Did you guys plan this?” Helena shrugged with a sly smile. “We figured you’d need a soft place to land after setting the world on fire.” Scene – Rooftop Celebration They danced barefoot under the stars, laughed until their sides hurt, and sat close as the wind played with their hair.