7 Days (BxB)

~8

          And then came the old-victorian house. Dark and eerie as ever, lit only by a few lamp posts along the leaf-covered road. The shadows seemed to dance across the windows, like Peter Pan. I thought of asking Pan himself, but he seemed busy.

My headlights turned off, a speed of about five miles-per-hour, I rolled up to a large oak at the corner of the house. There was no way Mr. Maddison could spot me from here. Unless he had psychic powers, which I wouldn't doubt.

I turned the key; the engine sputtered out.

My muddy shoes, worn by years of use, didn't make a sound as I crept up to the towering window of the Maddison's house. Again, it was dark. That was discouraging.

But I grabbed a pebble and threw it at the window anyway. A few taps and finally, a light flickered on. A jolt of electricity shot through me.

It took a moment, but there he was, sleepy eyes and all. His curtains swayed when he opened the window, as did his wavy locks.

I cleared my throat. "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair."

Arms spread wide, my eyes wandered his conflicted face. He spoke softly, "You again."

I grinned. "Me again. Like I said. I'm assuming you've thought of my offer?"

More like really hoped he's thought of it. I truly didn't know. But he let out a long, long sigh, a sigh of discouragement. "I have," he nodded, but it was also filled with discouragement.

"So what conflicts you?"

"Everything."

"All the more reason."

"You are persistent."

I sent him a toothy grin. "Only with you, it seems.

And in the beams of the lamps, his cheeks flushed pink. Romeo looked over his shoulders—left, right—then past me to peer down the dark street. "'My father . . ."

"Ah, the old man can kiss it. If anything, I'll be the one to get in trouble." He was startled by my disregard for punishment, I could tell. I could also tell, punishment was something he feared. It was no wonder he was so reluctant. "Just tonight. I just need one night." I smiled brighter, "Seven days in a week and you only have to spare one for me. Fair trade for the time of your life."

He thought, and thought, and thought. I smiled, and grinned, and smirked. "What would we even do?" he asked.

"If I told you, it would ruin the fun." Then a wink. More pink cheeks.

Again, he glanced every which way in sign of that familiar punishment. It took a long moment—a very long moment—but he finally said,

"Okay."

It was hard to hold in a yell.

The tree next to his window got him down safely to the ground with the help of a few whispered directions. Finally, he was standing in front of me. It was surreal. So perfect. So much better than talking to him from a window. "Romeo," I greeted.

He nervously smiled. I was taller than him, I noticed in a wave of excitement. About two inches. With my hat off and my hair out, probably five inches. "Now what?" he asked. He was even timider standing out here in the open. I had to get him to safety.

"Come on." He didn't resist when I took his hand. We darted through the shadows to my car. I opened the door for him, then closed it. And then we drove off into the rendezvous of the night.

He couldn't take his eyes from the window. I couldn't take my eyes from him. He seemed baffled, completely awed by the sight of our town at night. It was a small place, but anyone had to say, the night was when it came alive. Every light was on. The streets practically beamed. Howls from rambunctious teens could be heard every which way, and peaceful murmurs of the townsfolk never ceased. I had a plan for the night. And our first stop was the lake.

"You seem astonished," I observed. I watched him out of the corner of my eye. A small grin played on his lips: it made all the difference. I could get used to that face.

He breathed, and through his breath, he said, "I am."

I grinned. "Will you grab that bag out of the back seat?"

He turned to look behind at the spot I gestured to. A single bag rested in the middle seat, which he brought up front. Inside lay a loaf of bread. "What is this for?" he questioned.

My grin only grew into something devious. "Tonight, the swan's feast."