“When you smiled you had my undivided attention. When you laughed you had my urge to laugh with you. When you cried you had my urge to hold you. When you said you loved me, you had my heart forever.” ~ Author Unknown. ~
I’m sprinting. Feet pounding into the ground. Legs charging forward.
Panicked gasps leave my throat and my lungs burn. I am not athletic. At all. I think I’m the only girl that had never hit a ball in peewee tee-ball, but I run as fast as I can, stopping on the side of the house to catch my breath.
The cops are lurching forward, flashlights in their hands. The front yard is pure chaos. Running. Screaming. Flailing limbs. I don’t know what to do. Or where to go. I can’t run forward. I can’t go back into the house. The cops are heading toward the porch, inching closer. They’ll search every inch of the crumbling farmhouse. I am sure of it.
I remembered a party a couple of years back where we were caught partying on someone’s private property. Of course we didn’t know it was private property at the time, the ‘No Trespassing’ sign had fallen off the gate.
But what I remembered more vividly than anything, was the cops aiming their flashlights, shining them on the bushes right across from where I was a hiding. A second later they pulled two senior boys out of those bushes and arrested them.
I shudder when I think about that moment.
My fear is replaced with agitated curiosity. Who called them?
Somebody had to have called them. We’ve been partying at this location for the last year and none of our past parties have ever been busted. But who called? There isn’t a house for miles, but the music was really loud. I could hear the thumping base from the amps at the end of the driveway when I arrived.
They’re getting closer. The sound of footsteps scuff against the gravel. I spin around. The open yard is vast, empty. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. My eyes center on the open field behind the house. The long grass sways as the wind whips through it.
Finally I decide if I can stay really quiet, hiding in that long grass is going to be my best chance and keeping away from the cops and keeping my mom from giving me the responsibility lecture. And believe me; I’ve heard that lecture enough.
Dogs bark in the distance and the cops are so close I can hear their muffled voices. One of them has a megaphone and the loud squeak from it howls out. “Stop running! Stay where you are!”
I’m already in the grass, getting farther and farther away from the house.
“Stop running!”
I glance over my shoulder and realize they aren’t yelling at me. I push myself harder, running faster, and pieces of yellow grass get stuck in my hair. I don’t care. All I can think about is getting as far away from the house as fast as I can, but I’m winded. My breaths are clogged in my throat and my mouth is the Mojave Desert, hot and dry.
A few feet. Just a few more feet and I’ll crouch down and hide.
I don’t make it.
My foot catches on a divot and I fall, thudding onto someone or something, hard. I open my mouth to scream, but a sweaty hand clamps it shut.
I’m terrified, trembling with fear. I even whimper. I’m in the middle of a huge field. It has to be after midnight and I’m on the run from the cops. Now a stranger has his hand covering my mouth.
I chomp down and bite.
“Owww!” His voice is half of a whisper, half of a scream. “Damn it, Riley! Why did you bite me?”
The familiar deep, beautiful voice that reminds me of hot caramel dripping off a spoon calms me down. “Henry?” I reach out and feel up his chest, inching my fingers toward his chiseled jaw line. “Oh, Henry!”
“Shhhh.”
I taste his breath. The hot air wafts into my mouth and it tastes sweet, like candy apples mixed with cinnamon.
He’s lying on top of me. Our eyes are locked. He smoothes back a few fly-a-ways that came out of my ponytail while I was running. His fingers brush against my forehead and I feel myself unraveling. “You’re so beautiful,” he croons.
There’s nothing particularly beautiful about me. My hair is a mousy ash blond and poker straight. I have a body like a board; long, straight, and narrow. And even though I don’t think I’m attractive, Henry always tells me how beautiful he thinks I am.
I’m enamored. Smitten. And even though he’s pinning me down, I feel like I’m flying; soaring through the air.
I flit my fingers across his cheek and he kisses the back of my palm. A moan leaves my throat. I’m so twisted with ecstasy that I convulse and moan louder.
Henry places his hand back over my mouth and my eyes roll up as lights dart and flicker above us. The brightness glows against Henry’s face and I touch the long dark lashes that hang down, delicately framing his pale blue eyes.
He kisses the tips of my fingers and I want him to kiss every inch of me.