Seven

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Revealing the truth is like lighting a match. It can bring light or set your world on fire.

The walk from the bathroom back to the waiting room felt like I was on death row

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The walk from the bathroom back to the waiting room felt like I was on death row. Every step made my feet heavier and Breanna practically had to drag me back out.

When he saw us he immediately stood up, not removing his hands from his pockets. The small smile he gave us unnerved me, but that might just be because he seemed so okay with this. He was fine telling me everything about the notes and the heckling.

He held out his arm in an air of faux chivalry, of which I denied by walking past him to the register. When he caught up to me, the woman smiled at him.

"Reservation for Jackson," he states coolly.

Why was this so easy for him? If he told me everything, wouldn't there be consequences?

The woman nodded, crossing something off on the little podium in front of her.

"Right this way," she directs us with a smile.

The Lighthouse has several floors, so instead of stairs, if you're on a higher floor, the building has elevators you can use.

We enter the spacious elevator filled with soft music. The hostess presses a button and the doors close; with a small jolt we are sent upwards at once. The boy stands close to me. Not too close that it was uncomfortable, but close enough to make it awkward. It felt like ten minutes in the elevator, us not speaking one word to each other. I could tell he wanted to - his eyes kept shifting to me - but I didn't want to talk, especially in front of the hostess.

The elevator stopped, and without a 'ding,' the doors opened. We followed her through the dining area, but I wasn't really focused on where we were going. The view was absolutely beautiful.

We were at the top of The Lighthouse, where the light once shone out over the ocean to protect sailors. The glass was removed, leaving only the support beams in place and allowing wind to flow through to us.

"Thank you," he says to the hostess, who nods again and let's us know that our waiter will be with us shortly.

I shiver as a breeze flows through the top floor and sit down.

"Beautiful."

I look at him; his face is pointed to the ocean. The waves lap against the shoreline, and besides the few couples around us, there are no other sounds.

"My family used to come here every year for New Year's eve," he says. His eyes seem to soften as he speaks. "We'd sit here and wait for the countdown, and there would be someone out at sea who would light fireworks. I thought it was the most magical thing in the world; like the fish needed to celebrate, too."

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