screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain

Chapter 1: The Promposal

It was a night in July when I plopped down onto my bed. I had gone to a party; the socialization was fun but, boy, was it tiring after a while. And a certain somebody had surprised me: Gilbert Blythe. When I ranted to him about how much talk about tires from Charlie Sloane one could take, he responded perceptively and understandingly. I stood up and peered out my window and into Gilbert's. A perk of being his next-door-neighbor was that I could be nosy at any time I so wanted. As if he could read my mind, I received a text.

Gilbert: Hey, Shirley. Sorry about your extroverted social battery's draining tonight. How are you doing?

I smiled without realizing I was doing so. My heart fluttered. Wait, what? I didn't like him romantically. Right?

I replied, I'm ok. Thanks for asking. You looked not totally horrible tonight.

Gilbert: Oh, yeah?

Don't get a big head.

My pool's really warm right now. It's nice.

Ok, freaking Bruno Mars.

I'm serious. The stars are out, too. They're almost as beautiful as a certain redheaded girl I know.

Are you inviting me to a night swim?

Don't be ridiculous. I'm inviting you to a night swim, and afterwards we'll eat smores and watch the stars and that whole romantic shebang. Duh.

I'll be there soon.

I was giddy for no reason at all. I undressed and put on my swimsuit. It was a one-piece, since Marilla wouldn't be caught dead letting her sixteen-year-old daughter wearing anything immodest. I grabbed my NASA T-shirt and pink shorts and rolled them up into a ball. I curled the ball of clothing under my armpit and tiptoed past Marilla's room (Phew!), down the stairs, and escaped out the back door. I climbed over the fence to Gilbert's house. It was not so elegant.

When the curly-haired boy spotted me, he asked, "What's with the balled-up clothing?"

We were now in his backyard. The moonlight illuminated his face and did weird things to my quickly beating heart. And he was shirtless. And he was going to be shirtless with wet hair in a moment. When did he get so strong? He was a scrawny, lanky boy a few years ago. Now he looked like he could bench press me and Diana both simultaneously. The words got caught in my throat.

"Change of clothes. We're gonna be swimming, so..."

"What an astute observation," Gilbert teased, a smirk on his lips that looked very kissable at the moment.

"Don't be a jerk," I replied, narrowing my eyes.

I ascended the pool ladder, and he held the bottom of the ladder for me so I wouldn't fall. I hoped he couldn't hear the sound of my heart's hammering in my chest because it was ringing in my ears.

I wasted no time. I immediately swam underwater, skimming the bottom. I came above the surface and breathed in, flipping my hair out of my face. Gilbert had to be a show-off (a very handsome show-off) and dive off the ladder. When he was able to hear me, I said, "That's dangerous, you know. It directly tells you not to do that on every pool manual."

I made the mistake of looking at him. Crap. My cheeks heated up at the sight of a muscular, shirtless Gilbert Blythe under the moonlight, with his hair wet, his jaw clenched, his hazel eyes fixed on me. Oh, lord. I felt like I was going to die with how many butterflies were swarming around in my stomach.