Never Summer Again

Chapter Thirty-Three - Can I Sleep With You?

Score: Accidentally in Love - Counting Crows

Mark

We were sitting in the loft of Gloria's mum's house in Hertfordshire, eating salt and vinegar crisps out of a plastic bag. We were hiding in there because we had stolen a can of white paint from Albert, who had been painting the fence that day and had drawn shit all over the lawn with it. Albert had caught Gloria and she was probably taking the fall for all three of us, but Lydia and I had ran off and hidden in the loft.

It was hot as hell in the loft and I was sweating. We were watching the sun set behind the horizon from the huge dormer.

"Do you think they're still looking for us?" Lydia asked, passing me the crisps and licking her fingers one by one. She had grains of salt and a tiny piece of crisp on her bottom lip.

"I don't know."

"We are going to need to leave here eventually. Otherwise, we are going to die of thirst." She scrunched her face dramatically.

"We're not going to stay here forever, you know."

"I wish we were..." She stared out of the window, the fading light of the setting sun hitting her face and making her freckles look like specks of gold. She was ten then, and I was twelve. Looking back now, I was in love with her even then. I didn't know it yet, but I was madly in love with her.

"Our parents are going to come looking for us, eventually."

"I don't want them to find me."

"There you are you little twits!" Albert's head popped through the scuttle hole. He was climbing the ladder to the loft, which we had forgotten to pull back up, once we had climbed in.

We screamed and jumped to our feet. Albert pulled himself up and rose to his full height in the loft. We ran for our lives, escaping him by a sliver on our way to the ladder. He was old and didn't move very fast, so we ran past him and slid through the scuttle. We climbed down the ladder and continued running, Albert's angry voice fading behind us. We only stopped to take a breath when we were outside the house, taking cover in the shed. I doubled up, squeezing my knees, taking deep breaths and Lydia sank to the floor. We looked at each other, our faces bright red from the effort and from the summer sun, and we laughed so hard, our tummies hurt.

I kind of feel the same way now, as I'm driving away from the police, with Lydia pissing herself laughing next to me. Just two kids, who've done mischief, running away from authority.

"This is crazy!" Lydia says when she takes a breather in between bushels of laughter. "You're crazy! You're making me do crazy stuff, Mark!"

"I didn't make you do anything," I say, looking at her. "We were both into it."

"How can you be so sure?" She teases, cocking a brow.

"Because I still have your soaked knickers in my pocket." I shoot her a devilish grin.

She doesn't say anything but blushes so intensely, it is visible even in the bland light, coming into the car from the street lights.

"Do you think they got the plate number?" Lydia says, finally. Smooth change of topic.

"I don't think so," I say. "Honestly, though, I think the London Police has way more pressing issues than two kids messing around on the street."

Lydia bites her lower lip. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"Hey, even if they got it, they're going to get to my dad."

"You're a terrible person!" Lydia laughs.