I was such a girl. The pebbles weighed heavily in my hand, itching to take flight toward her bedroom window. I had three chances to get her attention. Well, there was a fourth larger stone, but I would only use it in dire need. There was a good chance it could shatter the glass, and I didn't want to risk that unless I had no other choice.
I could have waited to see her the next day at school. I could have even called her to hear her voice at that exact moment. There were a lot of things I could have done to avoid the possibility of getting shot by her father, but then again…I couldn't. I had to see her right then.
That determination made it easy to launch the first stone toward the second-floor bedroom. When it hit, a light from downstairs went on. Panicked, I ducked behind a bush with my heart racing and palms sweating. Her father would not be thrilled to find the truck-top stripper outside his daughter's window at midnight. I didn't need to see the shotgun or handcuffs to know that.
When no one burst through the front door to kill me, I decided the coast was clear. The second stone hit the glass with a quiet tap, and I was rewarded with the soft glow of a lamp. She'd heard me.
Moments later, her face appeared, relaxed from sleep but curious at the intrusion. When she saw me dancing from foot to foot like a kindergartner who needed to pee, curiosity turned to surprise.
"Come for a walk with me," I whispered, praying my words would carry.
"You're crazy," she hissed.
God, she was so smart.
"It's after midnight."
She started to shut the window, and my stomach dropped. I'd see her the next day, but it didn't matter. I wanted to spend time with her right then, with the stars overhead and none of our loud and nosy friends around. I couldn't tell her those things, but I could find other ways to beg.
"Please? It's the best time to take a walk; you'll see."
She would see, too. The night was clear and cool, but the stars were bright and the clearing by the creek would be dry and perfect for a rest. Maybe even a kiss, if I could screw up the courage to do it.
She smiled, and I knew I had her. When she closed the window, it was because I'd see her face to face within moments. Just in case she got caught on her way down the steps, I hid behind a bush to wait. After a few minutes passed and she still hadn't appeared, I started to wonder if I'd misunderstood.
The front door opened, and I reflexively ducked, just in case it was the sheriff with a gun. Instead, she appeared, wearing a rumpled hoodie and jeans. For some reason, she was more beautiful in those clothes than any of the fancy stuff she wore to school.
"What took you so long?" I whispered, still scared of her father.
Her response was in full voice and filled with amusement. "I had to get dressed and tell my dad where we're going."
Holy shit. Her dad knew I was outside. How was I still living?
"You asked for permission?"
What teenager asks permission? And what cop dad gives it? It was always better to ask forgiveness than permission. I'd learned that when I was five. A pout and a bat of the eyelashes and my mom always gave in.
I'd forgotten Bella was a good girl—the best girl. Of course she'd tell her dad, because she'd never want him to worry about her. And of course he'd give permission, because she'd never given him reason not to trust her. God, I hoped I didn't mess that up for her.
"We have two hours to hang out, and then I'll go back to bed like a good little girl."
Images of her in bed being a good little girl for me nearly knocked me over, and I giggled like a twelve-year-old boy. What the hell could this girl possibly see in me? The harder I tried to respect her, the harder it got. I got. Jesus. I needed to stop.
To ground myself, I took her soft, little hand in mind and took off across the field toward the swimming hole. Probably best not to kiss her. In my current state, there was no way I'd be able to settle for just her lips.
