“What the fuck was that?” he asks, breaking our kiss.
“I told you I don't like it when you cuss,” I say, sitting up and looking around the night. I hear it too. I hear it scurry over to my side. I look at Bentley, but he doesn't see me. His head is turned the other way. Even without looking at his face, I know his eyes are frantically searching for something... anything that seems out of the ordinary. I know he’s scared. He doesn't handle fear as well as I do. I suppose that I handle it better because I read more horror than he does. But then again, it makes me awful jumpy sometimes when I really do get freaked out. The full moon lights the graveyard enough to make out the far and few between tombstones. It's a fresh graveyard, which gives it a more and less eerie feeling at the same time.
“It was probably just a squirrel, love,” I say, pressing my chest up against his back and wrapping my arms around his neck. He looks back at me and kisses my cheek.
“Are you sure there's nothing out there?” he asks, running his hands up and down my goosebump covered arms.
“No,” I say honestly. I can't resist the temptation to make him a little more scared. It is always entertaining to me to watch people freak out.
“Babe!” he says, his grip on my hand getting tighter as we hear a growling noise.
“It's probably just a squirrel,” I repeat myself, this time trying to convince myself as well.
“Squirrels don't growl like that,” he states with a heavy sigh. As much as I hate to admit it, he's right... and it's starting to freak me out too.
“Maybe we shouldn't be out here... it has to be like midnight by now,” Bentley says, looking at me with pleading eyes.
“You know we're not supposto be out here,” I tease, thinking of earlier that night when we sneaked out of our houses to meet here.
“Yeah, but I mean, maybe we're really not supposed to be out here. Something feels wrong.”
“Since when do you have a sixth sense?”
“You know what I mean, Melissa, I know you feel it too. I know you're wigged, weather you admit it or not.”
Sometimes I hate that he knows me so well. I nod, but the thought of walking home alone makes my stomach knot up. I bite my lip and my eyes shift around my surroundings. He’s watching. I can feel his gaze. I don’t want to go home alone because he will follow me. He will talk to me.
“What's wrong?” Bentley asked.
“I'm just turned on, that's all,” I lie, crossing my fingers so it doesn't really count. Besides, I am wet. We were making out for quite the long while.
“You're scared to walk home, aren't you?” he asks.
“Maybe,” I admit.
“Mel,”
“Okay, I am. What's that mean?”
“Absolutely nothing, I'm scared too.” I jump as my peripheral vision catches something but, when I jerk my head, I see nothing. Why does he have to be so damn creepy? He’d be perfect if he wasn’t.
“Well what do we do, we can't exactly both walk each other home. And if we're caught by our parents we'll be dead.”
“Maybe not the same kind of dead we'll be if we stay,” Bentley says. Stating reality causes a solid line of fear to shoot through my head. The fear is making my adrenaline rush and it feels good soaring through my veins. I lay my head back and smile, taking in a cool breath of the night air.
