“How do you know?”
“I’ll pick you up in half an hour,” I say, ending the call before she can object. I don’t want to hear any excuses.
Of course, I know where Lauren lives—it’s on the edge of town, where the streets aren’t so nice, and where expensive cars avoid going. In Lauren’s neighborhood, things are different, and rougher around the edges. I pull up and honk twice because ringing the doorbell feels too much like a “date,” and I don’t want to give it that vibe. The last thing I need is to make this awkward.
One of the curtains twitches, and I spot her sister peeking out. I look straight at her and flip her off with a mischievous grin. The curtain snaps shut, and I feel a little satisfied, like I’ve won a minor victory.
The door opens, and out comes Lauren, a backpack slung over both shoulders, her eyes glued to the ground as she walks quickly toward the car. She looks ... nervous. Fearful, even.That’s weird.She never actslike this at school. She’s always calm, collected—more than willing to challenge me. But here? It’s like she’s walking on eggshells.
I roll down the window. “You okay?”
She nods but keeps her gaze down, her shoulders hunched a bit, and something about that feels wrong. Like maybe I missed something important.
“Where are we going?” Lauren asks, her voice quick, almost nervous.
“To a place where no one will see us or interrupt us,” I reply smoothly, though I’m more interested in not being interrupted. She doesn’t need to know that.
I start the car and hit the gas. Twenty minutes later, we pull up at a park a couple of towns away.
Yeah, I drive fast.
Lauren looks out the window as the city fades into the background, replaced by towering trees and greenery. “Is this where you’re going to bury my body?” she asks, dead serious.
I can’t help but burst into laughter. “If I wanted to make your body disappear, I’d use acid, Bunny, come on,” I say with a smirk, getting out of the car. She hesitates for a second before following suit.
I walk around to stand beside her. “They have some tables where we can sit,” I say, motioning to the picnic area. I start walking, but when I glance back, she’s still standing by the car, her gaze distant, almost tangled.
“Where’s your stuff?” she asks, her brows furrowing.
“I didn’t bring it,” I say, trying to play it off like it was intentional, not because I was too nervous to remember it. “That’s whatyou’rehere for. Come on, I don’t want to be stuck out here all day.”
She sighs but eventually falls into step beside me. Something about this whole day feels off, but I’m not sure if it’s me, her, or the fact that we’re two towns away from reality. To get to the quiet picnic area, we have to walk down a path crisscrossed with tree roots. Lauren stumbles more than once, which makes me reach out and grab her hand, guiding her like a kid learning to walk. Her skin is soft and warm—surprisingly so. I always imagined it would be cool and a littlerough, but here she is all softness. This place is perfect for her. There’s no one else around, no distractions. Just her and me, and the occasional chirp of birds and hum of insects in the distance.
We sit at a worn-out picnic table, facing each other. Lauren pulls out a notebook and pen, setting them down in front of her like she’s preparing for a serious discussion. She intertwines her fingers, waiting as if expecting me to give her instructions. That small gesture sends my mind spinning, and suddenly, my thoughts are filled with images I probably shouldn’t be having Lauren following my every command. I don’t even know why I brought her here anymore; I just want to look at her. Talk about anything but this project.
Her green eyes flicker up, and she blinks at me, waiting for me to say something. “Do you have something in mind?” she finally asks, breaking the silence.
“Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat and glancing at the notebook, afraid to look her in the eyes. “I’ll be Hades, you’ll be Persephone.”
She watches me with curiosity, clearly noticing my nerves too.
“I don’t have all day, Bunny,” I say, crossing my arms over the table and watching her as she sets the pen to paper. When I start dictating, she writes without missing a beat.
“Reasons why you should stay with me, colon,” I begin.
Lauren stops mid-sentence, looking up at me with a raised eyebrow. “This isn’t a dialogue, Silas, it sounds like demands from a terrorist group.”
I can’t help but smile at that. “Alright, fine. Write, 'I’ve thought of some reasons to convince you to stay with me.'”
She rolls her eyes but writes quickly, her handwriting neat, calligraphic, and strangely elegant.
“Okay, now your turn to respond.”
“Mmm” She taps the pen against her lips before adding, “I could say something like, 'Hades, you know you have to convince my mother first,'” she says, jotting it down.
I smirk and lean in. “'I know, but I want to be sure you come convinced to spend eternity with me,'” I dictate, my voice lower. She writes, nodding along.
Watching her write, so focused, makes me want to prolong this moment, but I push those thoughts away. Right now, it’s just Hades and Persephone on paper... nothing more.
