Past
Cass: Age 15
Paxton: Age 17
It’s dark, and Laney left me out here all alone. It’s easier for her to sneak back into her house through the front door because her parents’ room is on the opposite side of the house, not to mention next to her bedroom.
I, on the other hand, could never sneak through the front door. Instead, I have to open my bedroom window and climb through it quietly.
As I tiptoe up to my room, it hits me that I’m not wearing the best clothes for climbing through a window. Looking down at my attire, I groan at the short, tight jean skirt, crop top, and flip flops—cute, but not conducive to my reentry into my sanctuary.
Slowly pushing the window up, I reach in and push the sheer curtain to the side.
I look around me quickly when I think I hear something, but it’s so dark out I can’t see anything. I just want to get into the house and in bed. Slipping off my flip flops, I bend down and pick them up, dropping them through the open window.
Okay, so now the hard part. My window isn’t exactly what I would call low to the ground. Shit. I glance around me one more time. It’s not as if anyone would be able to see me in this pitch black anyway, but I wanted to be sure regardless. I don’t see anyone so I do the only thing I can think of: I lift my skirt up around my waist. Good thing it’s dark because I’m now standing in between mine and Laney’s house in my barely there top and a pair of lacy white panties.
Placing my hands on the ledge beneath my window, I put one leg up, and that’s when I hear it—or rather, that’s when I hear him. I’d recognize that laugh anywhere; I memorized it years ago. Once upon a time, I did everything in my power to be able to listen to that sound, to be the one who made him laugh.
Paxton.
“You know Cass, this might be a good time to put your leg down and cover up,” he tells me with laughter in his voice.
Quickly putting both feet back on the ground, lowering my skirt, I swing around and scowl at him. He probably can’t even see me, and that irritates me even more.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask him in annoyance. “And why were you looking at me?”
“First, I saw you sneak around here and thought you might need a boost through the window, and second, I’m an almost eighteen-year-old guy—lacy panties tend to stun me into stupidity. I did say something pretty much immediately…well, close enough to immediately.”
My heart rate begins to speed up. He’s so annoying, but I try to sound as calm and in control as possible. I fail. “P-Pretty much?” I stammer out.
I feel him take a step closer to me more than I actually see him move. Instinctually, I take a step back, not from fear of him, but rather fear of myself. He takes another step until I’m pressing my back against the wall of the house. My heart is pounding in my chest. It isn’t supposed to be doing that when it comes to Paxton Luke. My heart and I made a pact on the beach that day five years ago, and it has made good on that promise until tonight.
Heart, you’re a treacherous asshole.
“I hesitated a minute or two,” Paxton murmurs, our faces inches apart.
I hate him.
“A minute or…two,” I say, my voice barely audible.
“Cass, why do you keep repeating everything I say?” he asks, his voice sounding strange to my ears. He leans in a little more and I raise my hand, touching his chest lightly. He swallows noticeably.
Am I repeating after him? Ugh. Speak, Cassandra. Speak. Deep breath. Don’t let him do this to you. You’re smart. You’re confident. You don’t need his attention. You don’t want it.
Straightening my shoulders, I push his chest a little harder this time. “Move, Paxton,” I demand, still quietly, so I don’t wake my parents. He takes hold of my wrist, firm but gentle at the same time.
“Cass…” he says breathily.
“Let go, Paxton, and move. Why do you always have to act like such a jackass?” I pull my hand away and he lets me.
Running a hand through his hair, he turns away from me.
“I don’t know, Cass,” he answers, sounding a bit defeated. It confuses me, and I feel my heart wanting to do that thing again.
“No!” I say a little too loudly. I slap my hand over my mouth.
“No what?” Paxton asks me through the darkness.
“Not you, my…never mind,” I reply, lowering my voice once again. “I’ve got to get back inside before we wake my parents. They’ll ground me for life…or at least until I’m eighteen.” I turn for the window and look down at my skirt again. “Shit,” I huff out.
Before I know what’s happening, two large hands wrap around my waist and lift me until I’m sitting on the windowsill.
“There,” he says, not even a little bit out of breath.
I stare down at him, in shock and a little awe. He is always such an annoyance and causing me so much frustration; I rarely see the moments he actually helps me, the moments he possibly sees me and not through me. I crawl the rest of the way through the window and turn, hanging out partway.
“Tha—” I begin to tell him, but Paxton interrupts me.
“You best get to bed before your parents wake up,” he murmurs before leaning forward and pressing a brief kiss to my forehead…my forehead, like he’s eighty and I’m his four-year-old granddaughter. Dammit, my heart. “Good night Cass,” he says as he turns back to his house and climbs through his bedroom window. So that’s how he snuck up on me.
“Good night Paxton,” I finally say back, but I don’t think he heard me.
I slide the window shut, crawl into bed, and pray my heart will get its act together and remember we hate Paxton Luke.