No school. No whispers. No stares.
Just her.
That's all I wanted.
Rose texted me late Friday afternoon.
Just one message:
"Wear something soft. I'm stealing you tonight."
I stared at it for a full minute before replying:
"Where are we going?"
"Anywhere but here."
She met me at the bus stop near the old music shop. Her hair was down, still damp from a quick shower, and she wore a soft cream sweater over a dark skirt that fluttered in the breeze.
"You look…" I stopped. Couldn't even find the word.
Rose just grinned. "So do you."
She reached for my hand, her fingers cold but confident.
"Come on," she said. "It's our night."
We took the bus out to the city. The real city where no one knew our names and no one cared who held whose hand.
We stopped at a street vendor and bought candied strawberries on sticks. She got some on her lip. I wiped it off with my thumb. She blushed.
We found a rooftop garden above an old bookstore. Fairy lights wrapped around the rails, jazz music floating softly from hidden speakers. There were only a few people up there couples, mostly and none of them looked at us twice.
We sat close on a bench near the edge, the city lights stretching out in all directions below us like glitter spilled across velvet.
"I could live here," Rose whispered. "In this moment."
"You could?" I asked.
She nodded. "If it meant I could always hold your hand without thinking."
"You don't have to think anymore."
"I still do," she said, softly. "But only because I care too much."
I turned to her, heart thudding.
"You're allowed to care," I said. "I'll wait for you in every version of this life."
She looked at me really looked.
And then she kissed me.
Not like before.
This one wasn't shy, or rushed, or afraid.
It was slow. Deliberate. Certain.
A kiss that said:
We're here. We made it. We're not going back.
Afterward, we sat in silence, our heads pressed together, hands intertwined.
Below us, the city buzzed.
But up there, it was quiet.
And for once, we didn't need to say anything.
Because we knew exactly what this was.
Not a secret.
Not a maybe.
Not a mistake.
Just love.
Ours.