All the Little Compromises

0.2

"Do you mind if I join you?"

The quiet voice broke through your thoughts, causing you to whip around suddenly, flinging a few caramel curls into your mug of tea. Standing a few feet away was a tall man who looked to be around thirty years old. His hands were stuffed deep in the pockets of his navy blue pajama pants, causing his shoulders to hunch slightly. A messy flop of curly brown hair spilled across his forehead, obscuring the top of his horn-rimmed glasses. It was difficult to make out the intricacies of his facial features in the dark, but it was obvious that the man was good-looking. His cheeks and sharp jawline were covered in a light ghosting of stubble and his mouth settled into a small smile when their eyes met.

"No, of course not."

Your voice rasped slightly from the lack of use, an unwelcome reminder of your earlier panic attack. You took a gulp of now lukewarm tea, allowing your eyes to linger on the man.

His mussed hair and mismatched pajamas made him seem so soft. And even though that warning spark of self-preservation screamed that being alone with a strange man in the middle of the night was reckless and dangerous, you felt calm. A few years ago, the stress of this interaction would have spiraled you into a panic attack.

Those were the days when your paranoia ran so deep that being alone with any man caused you to break out in a cold sweat and your hands to shake. But now, that once panicked voice was reduced to only an anxious whisper.

So, despite all better judgment, you let a small smile fall across your lips and a lull of friendly silence settle between you. The man took a few tentative steps closer to the railing, tipping his chin to look at the starless sky. As he leaned his shoulders back, his tan cardigan fell open revealing an off-white tee-shirt with the words:

Q: What is the name of the first electricity detective?

Below the question was an ohm symbol (Ω) donning a plaid deerstalker, pipe, and magnifying glass.

You felt your smile grow a little wider as you realized the answer to the joke... Sherlock Ohms.

"So, what brings you to the roof at," the tall stranger took one hand out of his pocket, flipping his wrist to examine the silver watch that was fastened over his cardigan, "3:47 am on a Monday?" After reading the time, he immediately slipped his hand back in his pocket and turned his head back toward the sky.

"I couldn't sleep and figured some fresh air might help," you responded with a shrug. "What about you?"

With his upper body still slightly bent back, the stranger casually lolled his head to make eye contact. You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach as you watched his tongue slide between his lips. "I have chronic insomnia and, lately, sleeping has been difficult. I couldn't sleep tonight, so I decided I would come up here and watch the sunrise. There is something really beautiful about DC at this time of night."

You had never been good at small talk, likely a side-effect of your unconventional childhood, and the stranger's warm voice and beautiful side profile did little to help that. Mentally scolding yourself, you said the first thing that came to mind.

"Did you know that in a 2006 study conducted by the Institute of Medicine and the American Sleep Association, it was shown that nearly 70 million Americans possess some type of sleep disorder, with 10% being diagnosed with long-term insomnia?"

You turned your head to look back at the lanky man, only to find that his eyes were already on you. You felt your cheeks burn under his gaze. Your fingers twitched around your book, the rush of anxiety causing your palms to sweat. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

But this stranger didn't seem to notice your obvious unease. His eyes sparkled in the dark moonlight and his mouth tugged into a charming, lopsided grin.