Chapter 29: Moonlit Longing

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In the middle of the dawn in my room, couldn't sleep

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In the middle of the dawn in my room, couldn't sleep. Thoughts of Sydney kept swirling in my mind, and the emptiness of not hearing from her for several days gnawed at me. I knew I had to see her. While everyone in our house was still asleep, mom, dad, and Candace, I take courage to sneak out of our house, miraculously unseen.  The cool night air rushes past me. I grabbed my bike and quietly slipped out of the house, pedaling through the quiet streets and the wide thoroughfare of Cicero Avenue until I reached the Blake house.

***

The moon cast a soft glow as I reached her lawn, I scanned the side of the house, searching for the window I remembered from that unexpected night I spent here. Spotting it, there's a tall fence beneath her window, its square-patterned surface easy enough to climb. I grip the wooden slats, pulling myself up until I'm level with her window.

Peeking in, I saw her lying face down on her bed, her form still and quiet. Unsure if she was asleep, I gently knocked on the window. Nothing. I knocked again, a little louder this time, and watched as she stirred.

Sydney's eyes fluttered open, and when she saw me, a look of surprise and relief washed over her face. She quickly got up and opened the window, a warm smile spreading across her lips.

"Paris? What are you doing here?" she whispers, her voice a mix of shock and joy as she rushes to open the window. A smile spreads across her face, and I feel a wave of relief wash over me.

Before I could respond, she leaned out and pressed a quick but passionate kiss to my lips, a rush of emotion surging between us. The kiss was brief, but it spoke volumes—relief, longing, and the undeniable connection we'd missed in the days we'd been apart.

"I couldn't stand not hearing from you," I admitted as I climbed through the window, landing softly in her room. "I had to see you."

She helped me sneak in to her room, and we both sank down beneath the sill, our shoulders brushing against each other. The closeness, after the time apart, was a comforting warmth that eased the worry gnawing at me.

We turned to face each other, our heads close, eyes locked in an intense gaze. The world seemed to shrink down to just the two of us.

"We have to keep it down," she whispered, glancing at the door. "My parents can't know you're here."

"Why didn't you reply to my texts?" I asked, my curiosity finally getting the better of me.

Sydney sighs, glancing away for a moment. "My mom confiscated my phone," she admits softly. "I wasn't able to reply, but I kept thinking about you. I've been thinking about you all day, wondering if you were texting me."

The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. Her silence wasn't intentional—she's been grounded, restricted, just like me. "I'm sorry," I whisper, feeling guilty for doubting her. "I didn't know."

She turns back to me, her eyes soft. "It's okay. You don't have to apologize, and thanks for coming, Paris. I'm just glad you're here, that you took the effort to sneak in. It means a lot to me."

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