The Great Game Of Life

Chapter 1- Riverbanks, midnight encounters, and broken curfews.

Hi'- a male voice murmurs. 'hey'- comes my reply. I know, sparkling conversation- Not. He sits down beside me on the riverbank, skims a stone across the water and runs his fingers through his dark brown hair, looking intensely at the horizon with azure blue eyes, innocent eyes-childlike even; though he's seventeen. There's silence for a while. A sweet, cool August night, pleasant.

'Lil?'- he asks. 'Yes Mike?'- I say, leaning back against the sturdy Oak tree.

'What's your dream?'- he enquires. I'm momentarily confused, until he elaborates on his question: 'You know how I've wanted to be web designer, in New York, since I was little? That's my dream. My ultimate goal in The Great Game Of Life. What's yours?'

A slight smile breaks out on my face. 'That's for me to know and for you to not see come true. Because Michael, come 'ere. Now, let me tell you something"- I say. He leans in closer so that I can whisper in his ear. 'In my experience in, as you very well put it: "The Great Game Of Life", dreams, hopes, wishes, they don't come true. Sorry.' 'That's a lie'- he smiles: 'Five months ago, I wished to meet the love of my life, the soul who would turn my whole world upside-down. And then I met you. Coincidence? I rather think not.' He reaches over and, in that second, takes hold not just of my hand, but of my heart. 'Mikey...' I smile.

He leans over and kisses me. A wonderously soft, tender, slow, gentle kiss. The kind you see in movies, that takes your breath away. My thick, auburn hair now rests on not only my shoulders, but on his too.

He rolls over, both of us exploring each other's body. My hand rests in his hair, and his fingers make circles, varying in size and pressure on my lower back and hips.

And now we are lying on the riverbank, deep in warm embrace.
Suddenly, a sound startles me and I leap up, and check my phone for the time.
'SHIT!'- I exclaim. 'It's 12! 12 is my curfew and 12.30 is yours!' He jumps to his feet, checks his watch and for about 30 seconds, there is what seems to be endless swearing. We race down to the housing estate where I live, and when we get to my block, we stop and he kisses me again. Soft, warm kisses fill my mouth, tender. My eyes flutter open and he walks away slowly, as I sprint towards my house.

Then I reach it. Number 82, Mayfield Grove.  Home. The brick walls and bog-standard garden do nothing to make it stand out amongst the houses adjacent to it and opposite it. I stand at the side if the house, debating whether or not I should tell Mam where I'd been, when I saw that my bedroom window was open, just a crack. I lifted my foot up onto the ledge, and swung myself up...