What Lurks Beneath the Surface ✔️

chapter seven

Rem's hand is wrapped around mine as we walk between the rows of trees. White Christmas lights hang from the branches, creating a golden ambiance that makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. I'm in awe of the magical world we've stepped into.

"This is absolutely gorgeous," I whisper.

"Yeah, well, so are you," he replies, giving my hand a tender squeeze.

"How did you even find this place?" I ask.

"Mom used to bring me here. During the winter, they put ice over the pavement and turn it into a skating rink," he tells me.

"We'll have to come back in a few months." I stop walking, mentally berating myself for my poor choice of words. It's silly of me to assume we'll still be hanging out like this come wintertime.

"Yeah, we should," he says, flashing that flawless smile of his. He pulls me into his arms, and I bury my face in his chest, inhaling the musky smell that I've grown to love.

"Vange," he whispers, "I want... I want to talk to you about something."

"Okay." I look up at him, grinning slightly. "What's up?"

"Well," he begins, "not to sound like a thirteen-year-old here, but I was hoping... I was hoping you would be my girlfriend? Like, in an official capacity. If you want to keep things casual, I get it. I just—"

I silence him with a kiss, hoping the show of affection gives him the answer he's looking for. Remington Williams wants me to be his girlfriend. Of course I want that. I think I've wanted that since I was in the second grade.

He ends our lip lock but still holds me to his chest. "I guess I'll take that as a yes," he says with a chuckle.

"An enthusiastic yes," I confirm.

Hand in hand, my boyfriend and I continue strolling through the enchanted garden. He stops occasionally to kiss me, or to remind me how beautiful I am. All the while, I can't wipe the grin off my face. My poor heart is beating so fast, I fear it's about to burst through my chest.

I feel like I'm in a fairytale.

<>*<>*<>*<>*<>

I'm being dragged up the stairs by someone much larger than myself. I'm ushered into a bedroom—my bedroom—and the door is shut behind us.

"What's going on?" I ask my companion. Their face is a blur, but something in my heart tells me to trust them.

"It's hard to explain," a masculine voice replies.

So the person in the room with me is a man.

"Why did you leave for so long? Why are you so mad?" I question him. When he doesn't answer right away, I add, "Is it because of me? Did I do something wrong?"

"No," he assures me. "Don't ever think that, okay? You did nothing wrong." He lowers himself to his knees so that he's the same height as me. "Listen to me. There are people in this world who get away with doing bad things, but our actions have consequences. Someone did a very bad thing, and now that someone is going to be punished."

"What did they do?" I wonder.

"Nothing you need to worry about. Just forget about them, okay? Pretend they never existed. Can you do that for me? Please?"

I awaken with a jolt. My skin is sticky with cold sweat, and my heart is beating a mile a minute. It takes me a moment to catch my breath and lower my ultra fast heart rate.