He came quietly in the night, slipping between the bushes as though he were the breeze that rustled the trees.
I had actually run a brush through my hair, and let it fall straight down, not banishing it to the usual cone of pinned back curls. I'd also spent nearly fifteen minutes debating whether to apply makeup or not. He was the type of boy who wouldn't mind the extra powder and products, but could also just as easily appreciate the female face all natural. Bare.
It was almost one in the morning, and on any other normal night, every inch of my body would be screaming in exhaustion, begging for my bed, blankets, and books. However, I could hardly keep myself from letting out little squeals of giddiness as I paced between the window and the mirror.
When I finally saw his shadow slinking across the lawn, the smallest glow of a wand tip guiding him, I thought my heart would burst through my chest.
I knew he was coming, but that didn't stop the tingles of euphoria to spread across me in heated waves. This proved that all the poking fun and flirting wasn't a maddening taunt; he really did want me.
Thankfully, my parents had been snoring obliviously for the past two hours, knocked out after their evening beverages and T.V. shows, leaving me to my own devices. This wasn't unusual; they were rather insistent that I did something other than read during the summer holidays. It was always almost as though they were concerned that I had never quite blossomed into the rebel their bridge party members' children had turned into.
Normally, I'd never even dream of abusing the freedom they so willingly doled out, nor did I want to even now, but somehow he forced me into making an exception.
Sneaking out of my room, down the stairs, and to the back door, I unlocked it slowly, drinking in his tall form leaning against the doorway, the moonlight illuminating his blond hair, as he acted as though he'd been waiting for hours and hadn't just gotten there moments before me. He almost looked like a halo was wrapping around his head, painting him more innocent.
He doesn't wait.
Instantly, his mouth is on mine, crooking his finger around the top of my pajama pants, pulling me closer to him, as though I needed an invitation. We bump against the door, sliding it shut, and I somehow manage to turn the lock into place as he bites softly on my lower lip. The only possible way I can respond to this is by returning the favor, giggling at startled noise he makes.
Momentarily, he pulls away and looks down at me, eyebrows slightly raised above his pale eyes, his signature smirk spread across his face, as if he knows how utterly he has me.
I feel trapped and freed simultaneously.
We sneak up the stairs, his wand extinguished and shoved hastily into his back pocket, socks padding on the carpet before making it to my room where we pull them off, as well as every other article of clothing.
He was warm and smelled like the cologne he always wore during the school year, and as clean shaven as I imagined, so every time I ran my fingers across his jaw and along his face, I could feel the smooth texture of his flesh. It only made me kiss him harder.
In the end, when he pulled his garments back on and I watched as he disappeared out the backdoor, I felt a strange sense of sadness wash over me. I didn't want him to leave me, solitary and slightly cold. Alone under my sheets.
But this didn't make him my knight in shining armor.
On the contrary, he was the knife slipping between my ribs, killing me sneakily, but in such a way that the red rivers flowing from the wound were captivating enough to do nothing about but stare at.
Stare until the inevitable fade in a final plumage of color and vibrancy.
AN: What do you think? I was thinking of making a full length centered around this basic idea. Any/all feedback helps!