Seven Minutes in Heaven

Chapter 4

****AN  Hi guys. Sorry it's SOOOO short. I had to end it there to make the next part interesting. I promise more length next time! ****

    When I got home later that night, I examined my hand, his number. I pulled out my phone. I almost forgot about that creeper. So, first I put his number in my phone, then checked out my texts and voice mail.

    Four texts from the stalker.

    Remember, seven days. No time for romance, Kylie.

    That boy is very handsome, too bad he will die with your sister if you don't die alone.

    It will be slow and painful for you. And slower and more painful for them.

    Don't try to hide. I will find you. Don't try to run. I'll catch you. Don't try to defeat me. I'll win.

    I stared at my phone is disbelief. Would he really? But how?

    I got ready for bed, but I don't think I slept much that night.

    I awoke to a bang and the sound of glass smashing around five in the morning. My first thought, I'm dreaming. My second, the stalker.

    But that's illogical. He said I still have six days.

    So I cautiously walked down the stares to see who or what made the sound. Everything was fine. And I was the only one who heard anything...

    So I went back to my room. My window is the broken one. I look out. And who do I see standing on my lawn looking embarresed?

    Preston.

    I look at him and shake my head. "Wow. Just... just wow."

    "Sorry!" he shouted.

    "It's okay!" I laughed. "Hold on."

    I walked down stares in a tank top and sweatpants. I met him outside. He was standing there awkwardly.

    "You never called," he joked.

    "Oh, sorry. My bad, but it was like midnight by the time i got home," I said.

    We both laughed.

    "So, what are you doing here?" I asked.

    " I don't know. I guess I needed somewhere to go and you were the first person who popped in my head.." Preston said.

    "Oh, nice," I said.

    We talked for hours. About how his parents didn't know he was out, about how neither of us can sleep lately and why(I didn't tell the truth, though.), about everything. Then he said it.

    "So... do you want to, um, go out with me?"

    Whoa! I was so excited! "Yes, yeah!" I said.

    "Cool," he said awkwardly.

    He looked like he didn't know what to do next. But it was cute.

    So, to break the ice, I grabbed his hand. I could tell he liked that. His smile was warm, welcoming, genuinely happy. And on his cheeks were a little light pink blush. I could tell he was new at this, never the social one.

    But I liked it. It's sweet.

    Our fingers were intertwined like how they did in sappy romance movies. But I have to admit, it felt good and real. His hand was warm. Mine was cold. Two opposites that that kind of matched. In a way.

    The sun began to rise. The early morning light made him look radiant, gorgeous. His hair shined in the golden light and his eyes stared off into the sunrise. He was focused on something that I couldn't see.

    I leaned against him. He looked down at me, but I watched a bird up early, hopping around. He released my hand and then put his arm around me. It felt natural. Right where it should be. I smiled slightly.

    The wind started blowing. My hair blew in my face. But he brushed it away and leaned his head on mine. It was cute, it was right, it was perfect.

    We sat like this until about six in the morning.

    "You should go home before you get into trouble..." I suggested.

    "Yeah. I don't want to. But I will," he said, separating from me.

    I got used to his warmth, so when he left, I missed it and felt cold. I stood in the early morning sun for ten minutes just thinking before I decided to go inside and try to sleep a little bit.

    I awoke around noon. Five hours. Fine with me. I guess.

    I stayed home all day. I read, wrote, played guitar, went online, and all that kind of stuff. My stalker didn't text of call today. So I didn't really worry. Much.

    I thought a lot too. About Preston, about my friends, about my family. And just about everything.

    I just wished I could have talked to him that Saturday. It might have made all the difference in the world. It might have saved some lives.