I quickly turn down the brightness on my phone, wary of the many prying eyes around us in the crowded cafeteria. I much prefer being outside to this.
Sophie:You’re a bad influence, Mr. Hayes.
Theo:Meet me after school? Just five minutes, back lot.
Every fiber of my being screams yes. I should say no, it’s too risky. I should tell him to meet me somewhere else, somewheresafe. But I don’t have time tonight, I need to head straight home.
So, I text back an “okay”.
The moment the final bell rings, I grab my things and head for my car. The hallways are packed with students and teachers rushing to leave, so I bob and weave, excitement pulsing in my veins. I get to my car and deposit my bag and water bottle inside, then sit and wait.
I count every slow minute, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel. Five buses, a whole caravan of seniors, and three teachers later, I finally crack the door open and step out. The lot’s mostly cleared, and I breathe a little easier.
I see Theo’s car parked along the back edge of the lot, near a shed I think is used for sports equipment. The small building throws a long shadow across the asphalt. I don’t yet see him, but I make my way over anyway.
I round the corner of the shed and spot him immediately, leaning against the wall. His arms are folded tight across his chest, jaw clenched, foot tapping like he’s one second away from wearing a hole into the ground. I can feel the impatience rolling off of him from all the way over here.
The moment he sees me, he pushes off the wall, and is in front of me in three long strides. He grabs me by the waist, yanking me against him so fast the breath leaves my lungs. My cheek finds the steady thump of his chest as he tucks my head under his chin. I inhale, and his scent—warm skin, coffee, and cedar—wraps around me like a blanket.
The distant sounds of life fade into a dull hum. With him, the whole world blurs out.
We stand like that for a minute, saying nothing, just holding on to each other. His hands flex against my back as I grab his shirt tightly in my fists, wishing I could yank it off and press every inch of myself against him. But I grip tighter instead, holding him flush against me.
“Just a little longer,” he murmurs into my hair. “Then you’ll be mine. Out loud.”
I squeeze my eyes shut against the prickle of tears at his confession. I want that. I want it so badly it hurts.
A door slams, likely from the school building. Voices echo across the parking lot. They must be headed this way. We spring apart like we’ve been electrocuted, the sudden absence of him leaving me cold. My arms still tingle where he touched me, phantom warmth slipping through my fingers.
I tuck myself back against the wall, just in case, and Theo peeks around the corner. His body instantly sags in relief.
“It’s okay, they’ve stopped at a car.”
He scrubs a hand down his face, looking like he just aged five years in five seconds. I can relate. My legs feel weak, and my heartbeat is a sledgehammer in my ears. We exchange a look, both of us exasperated and breathless. We keep cutting it too close, risking everything.
I know we need to be more careful, but it’s getting harder and harder by the day.
“Only a month and a half left,” I say.
He nods, his expression pained. His muscles flex like he’s fighting the urge to grab me and never let me go again. I wish he would. It gets harder, every single day, to fight this. To hide what we are to one another. It’s driving me insane.
I reach out, brushing my fingers over the veins on the back of his hand, needing the anchor of him. Keeping me grounded. He turns his palm up to meet mine, giving my hand a quick squeeze. A promise.
“This weekend, you’re all mine.”
“At the fair?” I ask, knowing the answer is likely no, but it’s worth a shot anyway.
“Maybe I’ll find you there.”
This weekend can’t come quick enough.
34
SOPHIE
The day of the fair, I wake up late. I’d stayed up way too long on the phone with Theo, laughing and talking and having the best time. He’s etched a permanent smile onto my face with his kindness and his love. It’s all-consuming.
My parents did question me the other day, wondering who I’ve been talking to on the phone late at night. I didn’t realize they could hear me from their bedroom downstairs. I’d lied, of course, and said it was Sal, but now I’m trying to be more careful.
