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francixoxoxo · 1 day

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This is so so good and has PERFECT vibes, love love love!!!

michigan cherry // part three

summary: walking into a saloon in a nowhere town, billy meets a singer who he just can't get off his mind after she slips through his fingers; onto another town, another show- following nothing but the stars in her path. until he sees her again. another nowhere town and equally dusty saloon, but this time, the band of kids who made up her family is nowhere to be found. he's running away from something, and she is storming full speed toward something else, and tangling into each other's lives may just get both of them exactly where they want to be.

pairing: william h. bonney x fem!reader

wc: 3.7k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: singer!reader (she’s giving very much lucy gray), probably a little bit ooc billy but hey i tried- anyway he’s a sweetheart, use of guns and violence, murder and violence but i try to keep it non-descript, oh also she’s an orphan sorry (once again, lucy gray vibes), strangers to friends to lovers trope eee

the song in this chapter is "It's Called: Freefall" by Paris Paloma !!

a/n: hiiii i'm back with this :) enjoy! (someone pls talk to me ab him bc i am feral and knawing at the bars of my enclosure over this character atm)

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // pinterest board // playlist

Billy was settled for the moment in Dodge City, his horse still tired and his back ached from days of riding before. He'd been here for a few days, intentionally just passing through like usual, looking for some work where he could find it. If he could find it.

Until he had heard about a singer who'd been playing up at this saloon, an unusual woman who reminded him undoubtedly of someone else. A performance that shouldn't be missed- or so he'd heard from rumours in town.

He stepped inside, and his eyes settled on you standing there on the stage. He had hopes, he had confidence, even, when he heard the singing from outside, but he wasn't met at all with what he expected as he crossed the threshold into the dusty saloon.

"Called to the devil and the devil said "Quit, Can't be bothered, better handle your shit.

Keep about your wits, man, keep about your wits.

Know yourself, and who you came in with"."

It was you alright, but hardly recognizable you. You, without that lively look in your beautiful eyes and without the band of kids he vaguely remembers you had called 'The Covey'.

Your eyes skim over the crowd as you sing, a force of habit you couldn't afford to break, but you're hardly focussed on what you're seeing. Your eyes are almost glazed over, until they land on Billy.

You have to do a double take, giving him another nod- just like the first time you had seen him, and the weakest of smiles twitch at your lips as you strum away on your guitar.

Your music sounded much more sad this time. Maybe it was because you were alone and without the band it just sounded more dull- maybe it's because the tones itself had changed since he last saw you. The song sounded almost angry.

Billy was watching you intently, his eyes taking in every movement with almost critical focus as he pushed his way through the saloon, muttering apologies to folks he bumped into along the way.

It felt different today, he knew something was wrong. This wasn't the sassy, playful young woman he had talked to a month ago, this was... heartbreak incarnate.

He leaned against the bar when he reached it, eyes hardly leaving you for a second as you continued to play and he orders his whiskey.

When you wrap up, you smile a little at the applause that rings out. "Thank y'all for listenin' tonight. My name's Y/N, and this is..." You trail off, catching yourself before you introduce the band that wasn't there, quickly clearing your throat and shaking your head clear.

"Sorry. Had a bit too much whiskey to clear my pipes before I played." You laugh nervously before continuing. "Anyway, I hope y'all have a good night, but not so good you don't make it home safe." You finish your usual outro, giving a small bow before stepping back out of the light to put the old, beat up guitar away.

Billy listened, a small smirk on his face at the little mistake he knew only he caught- until you mention the whiskey. A light went off in his head, and his eyebrows furrowed.

Whiskey. She never touched the damn stuff.

Something is wrong.

But that much he already knew.

He watched as you put your guitar away, downing his drink quickly and tossing a coin on the bar for it before approaching you once you stepped down from the stage.

You didn't see him coming, with your sights set firmly on the door to the saloon. You didn't feel the need to entertain the company of male patrons this evening, even if it meant a free drink. You just wanted to get out into the fresh air and away as soon as you could.

Thinking about getting back to the stable you were allowed to stay in while you were in town was the only thing on your mind, that kept you from noticing you were about to barrel straight into that handsome cowboy you had met those odd months ago.

"Oh, sorry." You mumble as you crash into someone, steadying yourself as they caught you with strong hands on both your arms. You were ready to keep going, having completely forgotten that you even saw Billy in the crowd. You look up, pausing on the spot.

Just when he thought he might be making a fool of himself by stopping you at all, you walked straight into him like he was somehow a ghost you could have passed straight through.

He was close, too close, and his eyes were glued on yours, studying everything about you like he was inspecting a statue as you looked up at him, pretty eyes dulled by the dark circles he could now see underneath them.

"I ain't gonna let ya walk out of here like this. You've had a touch too much whiskey, haven't you?" He asks after a moment, that familiar smile on his lips. "Want a guide back to where you're stayin'?"

"Nah, haven't had a drop." You look at him for a moment before back around the bar and letting out a soft sigh. "That bein' said... I wouldn't want to tear you away, but I also wouldn't mind the company."

It was risky business walking with a stranger who was trying to get your clothes off last time you met, but it's just as risky to walk alone. And something about Billy made you want to trust him despite your better judgement.

He grinned, his heart swelling with relief as he took in your soft expression. You were still beautiful, especially when you gave him that soft little smile.

"I'm more than happy to." He said, nodding down to the guitar case gripped tight in your palm. "Got your guitar? Let me lift that for you."

You look down at his hand as he reaches for it and tense up a bit, shaking your head before speaking again. "I'm a big girl, I've got it." You insist, already heading for the door and stepping around him with a gentle spin on your way.

He was a bit surprised by your reaction, having assumed you'd be more trusting of him this time around. At the same time, he could see that now you were alone- of course you'd be a little more hesitant about accepting help or conversation from a practical stranger.

He couldn't help but be plagued by curiosity as to what could have happened, but he shakes his head, shrugging off the strange interaction, and follows after you instead.

"I was raised to be a gentleman, is all." He says, catching up to you.

"And I appreciate the thought, but I'd rather carry my own responsibilities myself. Builds character." You say, giving him a small smile to let him know everything was fine and you wouldn't hold it against him. You open the door for the two of you and step out into the cool night air, Billy right on your heels.

He couldn't help but laugh as you opened the door. He respected that, the stubborn insistence on doing things yourself. In a way, it was charming.

"Builds character, does it?" He asks as he steps outside behind you and the door to the saloon swings shut with a squeaky groan. His eyes were watching you closely, noting every little detail. "I think your character's already been built. But you've changed, ain't you?"

You shrug a bit, biting the inside of your cheek. "The world changes awful fast, Billy." You say, feigning confidence with the persona you usually put on to perform.

You were trying to make it seem like everything was alright, and he wasn't about to let that slip- even if maybe he should.

"Not as fast as a woman's heart," He retorted, his voice soft and his eyes locked on yours. "That's what my ma told me, anyway."

"If that ain't the truth." You chuckle, a sad tinge to it as you look down at your boots while you walk, feet crunching over the gravel on the mostly deserted road.

Your tone, your voice, even the sad laugh- they were all familiar but at the same time, the complete opposite. You were almost a ghost of who you once were. To Billy, anyway.

"So," He comments, deciding to just ask right out in search of confirmation of his suspicions. "Who broke your little heart this time, darlin'?"

"Must have been God herself, as I see it." You answer after a moment, shoulders dropping as you glance up at him, trying to shrug it off as you look around- an excuse to avoid looking at him.

His breath caught for a moment as you finally looked into his eyes once again. Those pretty eyes, so familiar and yet distracted. And that voice, the way you said the word "God", you sounded tired, worn down.

"God don't break hearts," He says quietly, gently bumping your shoulder with his. "People do."

"Then I suppose my heart was just collateral damage in an unjust battle for somethin' bigger." You say, looking up at him finally as the stars twinkled above you. It was a beautiful night.

He wanted to hug you, to tell you that he'd keep you safe from the cruel, unjust world you both found yourselves floating around in. But that had just been used against him the last time.

"Do you mind if I ask who you'd put your faith in then?" He wanted to know where that faith in humanity had gone. Where that sparkling smile had gone. "You've gotta have faith in someone."

"That's the trouble." You sigh. "I lost everyone that mattered to me in one night, so where does a girl place her faith now? Not in family, not in love- and certainly not in a higher power who would let that happen. All I got left is my music and even that... it ain't the same these days." A small laugh leaves your lips and you shake your head. "You could probably tell that much, though."

He hated to hear that. You sounded hopeless. Broken, almost. There was none of that cheeky playfulness you'd had the first time, just raw sorrow that seemed to echo in the silence that surrounded you on your walk to who knows where you were staying.

"A girl who can play like you shouldn't be allowed to lose her faith in music," Billy says, his voice quiet to not disturb the peace that was coming in like a fog the further the two of you walked from the saloon.

"Well, without the band I..." You were going to come up with some witty response, a poetic thought, but none came to you. It just hurt. Your voice breaks and you quickly shake your head. "All I can write songs about is pain, and that ain't much fun for people to hear unless you're at the bar drinkin' away your own troubles. And I can't very well play much of our old music without 'em."

His eyes drifted toward your guitar case as you spoke, and it nearly made his heart break. You'd been so passionate about playing with your old band, and to have them ripped away from you...

"I'm guessing they were more than a band, then?"

"They were all I had in the world." You answer affirmatively, following his eyes down to the guitar case.

It was almost painful to hear you say that.

Your voice was so resigned and your body language betrayed you. Billy felt like a man crazed to be struck so hard and fast by you, but he didn't know what else to do with himself. Leave you alone to your devices and return to his lonely camp, and risk letting you fall away from him again? No shot. He'd been given another chance by what must have been the lord, and he wasn't gonna toss it away- especially when you seemed like you needed someone, anyone, so damn badly right now.

He saw the way you looked at your guitar case with so much sadness. Unsure what to say, what to even do, Billy digs his hands into his pockets. What would he have wanted to hear, when he was all on his own for the first time? What could have helped?

Certainly not Jesse convincing him to rob a family business, that's for certain. Though, it wouldn't be hard for a sweet girl like you to stay out of the jailhouse.

"...How did you lose 'em?" He asks quietly instead, knowing it was less than none of his business, but surely you just needed to talk, right?

"Uh..." You start, sighing and gathering your thoughts. "Max, Maximilien, I mean, who was the oldest of us, got uh... shot after one of our shows a month or so back. Days are... vague. Anyway, we were robbed of every penny to our names and he was left for dead because he tried to protect me and the kids." You say, taking a shaky breath in to keep it together. You hadn't told anyone about this. There was no one to tell.

The air feels like it's been sucked from the atmosphere around you, and Billy's hands tense up in his pockets as he looks at you, eyes glazing over as he remembered how he lost his best friend in an eerily similar way.

"Then, when we reported it to the lawmen and tried to get him some help, they took the kids from me because we're escaped from an orphanage up in Michigan. I'm over eighteen now so they wouldn't take me, but they shipped the rest of 'em back where we came from. Harvey and Josie and Nat... They took 'em." You explain, feeling the story leave you quickly in one breath like you had been dying to tell someone. And you had.

His eyes were fixed on you the whole time you spoke, nodding in quiet understanding. Billy knew all too well what it was like to lose a family.

He knew you'd been through hell and back in the past few months.

"I... I'm so sorry." He utters. What could he even say other than give you the space to talk? It was a privilege he never had. "They just... took your family from you? Just like that?"

"They aren't my blood." You sigh softly, resigned to the situation. "I had no claim over 'em. If I took 'em and ran, I'd be wanted for kidnapping now that I'm an adult. Before I was just a runaway like them."

He frowned at that, his eyes flaring with anger for a fraction of a second in a way you miss, distracted by your own mix of the same emotions.

Blood is so damn important to these politicians. To this goddamn world, it seemed.

"And what about Max?" He asks after a moment. "He was family, too. Did the lawmen even catch his killer?"

"No. They said they had a good guess who it was, and there was no chance of catchin' 'em but they were already trying." You shake your head, eyes dropping again with the consistent heartbreak.

Billy pulls at his sleeves around his palms, clearing his throat casually. He has a decent idea of who the lawmen suspected the culprit was.

"If it had been me instead at least Max and Nat would still be together, but..." You add, and he snaps his head up to look at you again.

"That's a bold claim, you know?" He asks, but you shrug off the severity of your statement.

God, this girl was so damn strong.

He'd gone through something similar, in concept, at least. Lost his father, his best friend, and then his kid brother and his mother to consumption, but had he lost all of them in one night? He'd have laid face-first in the gutter and drank himself to death. He's sure of it.

But you, by some miracle, had kept going, put one foot in front of the other, and were dealing with it all day in and day out, performing for strangers in every town you pass.

That was true strength, the kind he'd never had, and had always admired in others. The sheer willpower he tended to spot more often in women, like his mother, and like that young woman who risked so much to break him out of jail after just one night together. Maternal instinct, he supposed, even if you were left with no one to look after now besides yourself.

"I'm so sorry." He said quietly again, unsure how to word it any other way.

You shake your head dismissively. "I don't want any of that, makes it too real once someone else acknowledges it." You say, pulling your shoulders back as you walk. "It's alright anyway, I've got a plan." You add with a firm nod, grip tightening on the guitar case.

Billy looked at the way you gripped that guitar case as if it were the last thing that was keeping you from falling apart.

It might as well have been.

He smirked, taking in the confidence you had despite it all and eager to drop the solemn mood surrounding a tense conversation. "Do you? And what's this grand, all-solving plan of yours? I'd love to hear it if you're willing to share."

"I'm gonna play their game." You say, determination dripping from your tone as you lift your chin, looking down the path as you walk. "It's the only option I got. I'll keep playin', and save up till I can get one of them fancy city attorney's and walk into that jailhouse they call a home for kids, and walk back out with my family."

It was a crazy plan, a loose one, really, but it was all you had and he could tell you were clinging onto it for dear life. That alone makes it better than nothing. "I think that's a damn solid plan," Billy says after a low whistle. He looked over at you as you walked, easily keeping pace.

"Just look at her." He thinks, smiling a little to himself. "After all the hell she'd been through, after the cruel twist of fate that could have a grown man on his knees, she was willing to play the game."

And damn it all, he found himself wanting to be a part of that game.

"How much money you need to get one of them barristers, you figure?"

"Fifty bucks, give or take. Same for each of the kids, I'm guessin'." You answer, seemingly not swayed by the large sum of money you'd need to do it. "So I'll need two hundred, plus whatever it takes to get back to Detroit."

He nods, looking down at the path. "And if you don't mind me askin'... How's that goin' for you? You got any money saved up so far?"

"I got..." You think about it for a moment, reaching your hand into the pocket of your skirt to make sure the change is still there. "About three dollars." You say, and despite how little it was, you couldn't let it deter you. "I had almost ten, but then I got robbed again back in Texas. But I usually make about a dollar at every show, sometimes more."

His eyes drifted to the guitar case again as you mentioned being robbed.

"Well," Billy chuckles, digging into his own pocket and pulling out a few stray coins. "I got about... five bucks here. Should just about cancel out that robbery, hey?" He grins, holding out his open palm toward you.

"I can't take that from you, Billy. That's just ridiculous." You insist quickly, a frown on your face as you shake your head. It was nice of him to offer, and you'd be lying to yourself if you said it wasn't tempting, but your moral compass is pointing right in the direction of not accepting handouts. "Thank you, though. That's awful kind."

He tilts his head at you, raising an eyebrow. "Come on." He chuckles, seeing you shake your head again in firm denial. "Okay, fine. Consider it... A tip. I watched you play, heard that beautiful 'devil's' song of yours, and feel inclined to pay you for your efforts."

The smug smile on his face makes you laugh and roll your eyes. "Now, don't you go makin' yourself feel all righteous about it."

"So you'll take it?"

Begrudgingly you hold your hand out, and he dumps the few coins in your palm, avoiding his eyes as he smiles when you put them in your pocket with the rest. "Thank you." You say quietly. "It's real appreciated. Promise it's goin' to a good cause."

"Hey, it's no matter to me. You earned it fair and square." He grins, and the silence that falls around you outside of the distant shuffle of horses at the ranch you were staying at up ahead is uncomfortable, to say the very least. To you, anyway. Hard to tell much of what Billy is thinking, especially when you can't look at him.

"So," Billy begins after a few moments, clearly hating the silence as much as you did. "Where are you headed next?"

"Wherever I can find a ride to." You answer with a shrug. "I'm hopin' to make it out to Santa Fe, Silver City, that area at some point. Higher populations, gold mines, I may be able to stick around for a while and make some decent change."

"O-oh, well, I actually-"

"Here we are." You grin, cutting him off and pointing to the ranch just up ahead, not far from town. "This is where I'm holed up for the night, so, thank you for walking me back."

He's slightly shocked by the suddenness of it but shakes himself free of the thought anyway. "Oh, good. Right. Good. Glad I could help."

You look up at him again, giving him a polite nod before starting to walk toward the path to the house.

"Hey! Wait, Miss..." Billy calls after you, taking half a step to follow and pulling off his hat before stopping himself.

You turn, walking backward as you swing your guitar case, watching him expectantly.

"Are you... can I see you again?" He gets it out, fingers nervously fiddling over the brim of his cap as he holds it against his chest.

You smile, cheeks burning a bit as you further the distance between you. "I'm doing a show tomorrow night at the same saloon, if you're not sick of my voice by now." You smile, giving him a little bow before turning around and continuing up to the house.

"Never." He replies almost breathlessly, mesmerized by the spin of your skirts while you walk out of earshot.

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

#billy the kid x reader #billy the kid x you #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid season 2 #billy the kid #william h bonney x you #william h bonney x reader #william bonney #william h bonney #tom blyth

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francixoxoxo · 2 days

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This is INSANELY good omg

starlight grove | w.h.b

PAIRING | billy x fem!rich!reader

CAST | william h. bonney (billy the kid), jesse evans (mentioned)

WC | 6.9k

GENRE | smut, fluff, strangers to lovers, starcrossed lovers, forbidden love, opposites attract

WARNINGS | explicit language, explicit sexual content, smoking (cigars), reader is rich and very feminine/girly, reader has a mom & dad, usage of pet names for reader (pet, sweetheart, etc.), historical and TV show sequence inaccuracies (not based on specific TV show events nor irl specific historical events)

SYNOPSIS | everyone knows he's no good for you, including the two of you. that's why it starts off emotionless, pure passion and lust. but other feelings began to creep in, just as quickly as sunlight trickles through the bare branches of your apple grove come winter.

A/N | first billy the kid fanfic :) so please don’t be too harsh lol i’m sensitive. it's also a bit choppy since i decided i wanted to have a similar setup and mc/reader for a future billy the kid fanfic so i had to move things around so it's not too similar to my other draft :/ i’m also in love with tom blyth so it had to be written. 🙏 please reblog and/or leave some kind words if you enjoyed this fic!! there will definitely be more to come for billy the kid & i also definitely want to start writing for coriolanus snow too <3 please consider reblogging + leaving some kind words if you enjoyed!!

request to be added to current and future taglists HERE!

MASTERLIST | BILLY THE KID MASTERLIST

Billy spits a wad of blood, metallic and tangy in his mouth, into the dirt at his boots. His tongue prods the ragged flesh at his cheek, where his teeth tore into the inside of his cheek when Jesse accidentally elbowed him in the face whilst they were wrangling some cattle earlier.

Billy learned two things that day—one, every single rich rancher that moved into town was a fucking jerk, and two, he really needed to stay out of the way when Jesse was distracted.

Regardless, he was pissed. If not because of the way his left side of his face was aching, then because he hardly got paid for a long day of work. Sure, he didn’t expect anything grand, but he thought he’d get more than enough to get by for the next few days, and he could kick back and relax before the summer boom, which people had been whispering about, saying that tons more rich ranchers were moving in, and therefore slowly moving the poor out. Naturally, Billy thought that he’d just move on if it came to that—he wasn’t too attached to town, and he didn’t consider it home. It was just the place he was occupying at the moment, because it was working for him. If it became too expensive or too much of an annoyance, he’d pack up his few belongings and head further west.

He thumbs through the few wrinkled bills he’d been handed at the end of the work day, and he scoffs, leaning back in his chair to take a long drag from his cigar. The sun is beginning to sink lower in the sky now, and the air is thick and warm. Dust is clouding the sky as people and horses walk by, making him cough weakly as he waves at the air in front of him. Then, through the midst of reddish brown dirt, he sees what he thinks might be an angel on Earth.

A woman, but not just any woman—the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. Physically, she’s exactly his type and more, with graceful facial features and an elegant way of carrying herself, despite the less than ideal conditions of town in the late summer afternoon. He can’t help but get to his feet to take a second look, thinking that in his sleepy, anger-addled mind he might have hallucinated her. But no, there she is, clearer than ever now that he can see above the clouds of dirt rising from the ground. She’s holding onto the arm of an older gentleman, presumably her father, as the pair walks across the road, approaching the bank. The older man, who isn’t really old at all, but coming off as more mature and refined instead, takes out a small golden timepiece and scoffs at it, making the beautiful angel clinging to his arm jump slightly from his outburst. They enter the bank, and Billy snaps out of his stupor, realizing that he’d been staring at her the entire time. He’s quite glad that she didn’t seem to notice, and he stubs out his cigar in the dusty ashtray before standing up and leaving the front of the saloon, thinking about what he might have for dinner.

On the other side of the road, you enter the bank, clinging to your father’s arm nervously. You hadn’t wanted to move to some small, underdeveloped town in the middle of nowhere—you had to complete your summer studies at a respectable, well-known school, you complained to your father. Nonsense, your father had replied, besides, we’ll be home by the end of summer.

You left behind all of your friends, your acceptance to the best summer program in the area, and your beautiful house—it was big and white, and the inside smelled like fresh wood and it was spacious. Here, you have no friends, you must attend the local college, where very few women go, and you know you’ll be berated by misogynistic men, and your house… well, perhaps your house here is the one grace. It too, is large, and the wood on the outside is also painted white. There are plenty of windows, framed with pretty ridged shutters, and the inside is even more spacious than your old house. Your bedroom here is lovely too, taking up the entire floor of the attic, which is clean and bright in the day and cool and quiet in the night.

You aren’t spoiled, but you’re quite used to having very nice things, since your father is so successful. Especially now that he’s got much more land for his cattle, he keeps boasting at dinner about how much richer your family will get. He says that this summer house is just the beginning. And you also aren’t stupid, so you keep your mouth shut, even when your father says stuff you don’t agree with. You know there’s only so many ways to make your way as a woman until you marry, so you let your father think that you agree with every little thing he says.

And that’s what you’re doing now, as you both walk into the bank to discuss taking money out for your college. You press your lips into a thin, tight line to avoid saying something you’ll regret as your father jabbers on about how stupid it is for women to attend college anyways. You put on a fake smile and nod, acting like you don’t really care whether you continue your education or not. Sitting quietly beside him as he talks to the banker, you get bored, and fast. The room you’re sitting in is possibly the most boring room you’ve ever seen—it’s completely flat and brown on all sides, and the decor doesn’t boast anything exciting either. The walls are bare, and the banker scrawls down numbers as your father rattles off information you’re quite sure is irrelevant in this situation—he just wants to show off. You turn away, and look at the one interesting thing you can see from where you’re sitting—you look through a window, that sees out the front of the building. A man—a cowboy—is standing at the saloon on the other side of the dirt road, right outside the doors where a few wooden chairs sit, scattered about. He seemed to be staring back at you for a moment, and your heart skips a beat—he’s quite handsome, after all—but then he turns away, and walks off. You’re disappointed, as your one form of entertainment has walked off, and now your father is arguing with the banker—for what reason, you’re not exactly sure. Sighing, you sink down in your chair, sulking, until your father barks at you to sit up like a real lady and stop making a fool of yourself in public.

The next morning, your father announces he’s going into town again. “That bastard of a banker counted my money wrong,” he seethes, slamming his fist onto the table, spilling his own coffee. Your mother looks up, her eyes wide and afraid, before wiping up the spilled coffee with a rag, and refilling his mug. “Everyone in this town is an uneducated, unrefined mongrel,” he insists again, when no one speaks up to agree with him. “That’s the problem with new towns like these. No one is civilized, the way we are.”

“You’re right, hun,” your mother offers quickly, and once he gets his acknowledgement, he resumes his meal. You and your mother exchange knowing looks, looking away quickly before he realizes that there’s a silent form of communication that he isn’t involved in.

“When are you leaving, Pa?” you ask, looking up. Your mother swats you on the arm gently, reminding you that you shouldn’t be addressing your father in such a way, especially during a meal. You retract your statement, swallowing hard as your father narrows his eyes at you.

“That isn’t any of your concern, pet,” your father says, as he lights a cigar, a large cloud of smoke exiting his mouth as he exhales, hiding his face from your view. “Little girls don’t belong in town. You stay here with your mother and the servants and mind the home, as you will for your husband when you’re a wife and mother.”

Your jaw clenches at your father’s words. You know he’s right—that’s the norm for women, after all. But it’s not right, and you wish it weren’t so. All you wanted was to go to town, hopefully to catch a glimpse of that handsome cowboy again—you weren’t disobedient, or bad. You wouldn’t even mind staying home most of the time, since spending time with your father almost always guaranteed some sort of tantrum from him, and you found it embarrassing to be with him in public when that occurred. But instead of arguing or calling him out on his sexist behavior, you force your lips into a smile and look into his hard eyes at the cigar smoke clears. “Yes, sir,” you say softly, sighing as you look down at your empty plate.

The sound of your father hitching up the horses makes your ears perk up, and you can’t help but peek out the large window in front of the kitchen that oversees the front of your home. Soon enough, two of your father’s best Morgans trot by, pulling a carriage. All you can see of your father is the faint shadow of his wide brimmed hat as the horses pass by the front of the house, slowly disappearing from your view as they trot down the pathway, and in the direction opposite of your house. Sighing, you watch the maids scrubbing the breakfast dishes in a large wash basin, the smell of fresh lye soap penetrating your senses.

Finding nothing else to do on a dreadfully blissful spring day when you’re stuck inside, you help with the household chores as your father instructed, feeling a pool of anger simmering in your stomach at your quiet obedience. At least next week your summer classes at the local college would begin, and even though your father would definitely have some choice words for you about that, at least it’s an opportunity to get out of the house and away from his nagging.

A gentle, warm breeze blows gently as you hang up the damp laundry. You had assured the maids on laundry duty that you didn’t mind hanging up all of the washed garments—it was something to do, after all—and they left to help with other chores. Humming to yourself, you dig into the small box of clothespins as you hold one of your nightgowns up to the clothesline, but when you look back up to clip it to the string, you’re instead staring into a pair of very bright, very piercing, very familiar blue eyes. You let out a yelp and stumble backwards, surprised, and step into the basket of damp laundry, spilling your own clothes and linens all over yourself. You can feel your face heating up as you’re hidden underneath one of your linens, hearing the handsome owner of the blue eyes chuckling at your clumsiness.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice kind but slightly gruff. You gingerly peel back the linen that’s draped over your head, one hundred percent sure that your cheeks are flushed to the point where he can obviously see it. Avoiding eye contact, you nod and start scooping the linens and clothes back into the basket. He starts helping you, much to your discomfort, but you don’t say anything until his hand falters slightly. You look over and see that he’s staring directly at a pair of your undergarments. If your cheeks weren’t flushed before, they are now. You quickly snatch it out of his sight, shoving them deep into the basket.

“Sorry.” He stands up, chuckling softly. Then he extends a hand to you as you mirror his actions, standing up and looking up into his bright eyes. “I’m Billy.” The handsome cowboy.

You tell him your name, shaking his hand with a firm grip. He can’t help but grin at your serious expression—you were so pretty, and that studious look made him want to say something to make you smile. “I saw you in town yesterday,” you say quickly, before you can stop yourself. “Across from the bank.”

“That’s right, I was at the saloon. And you were with… your father, I presume?”

“Yeah. He went to town again today, but he wouldn’t let me come this time.” You smile weakly, wondering why the hell you were telling him all of those details.

“Oh?” Billy asks, raising an eyebrow. “And why’s that, sweetheart?”

You feel a shiver go down your spine at his deepening tone, the way his bright eyes darken slightly as he looks down at you. You swallow around the lump in your throat, trying not to stumble over your words. How was it possible for someone to have such an impact on you? You’ve never come across anyone so attractive in your entire life. “M-my father says it’s no place for a girl like me…” you say, feeling your face heat up again at how childish, how naive you sound. A man like Billy wouldn’t want a girl like you.

“He’s not wrong, you know.” Billy steps closer to you, his calloused hand gently caressing your face before he tilts your chin up so that you’re looking him in the eye. “Town’s full of dangerous men that’d just love to mess with a pretty girl like you.”

Your breath catches in your throat at his proximity, and you pull away, biting your tongue. He chuckles softly. “I’m just messing with you, sweetheart. But really, your Pa ain’t wrong. There’s plenty of bad men in town that wouldn’t have a second thought about taking you away.”

“Are you one of them?” you challenge, crossing your arms. He raises his eyebrows, surprised at your defiance, but enjoying the feeling you’re giving him—the feeling of a challenge.

“Do you want me to be?” he asks, mirroring your actions and crossing his arms. He grins at you, and your heart flutters. You can’t help it, not when such a beautiful man is teasing you.

You bite back a giggle, looking down at the ground so he can’t see the goofy smile that’s threatening to spread across your face. “Well… I wouldn’t say I want you to take me away…” you say, finding your voice as you play with a loose thread on the skirt of your dress.

Billy chuckles again, and leans in closer. You can feel your heart pounding, making your entire body erupt in uncontrollable shivers. “How about I just take you out then?” he suggests, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Only if you stop teasing me like that,” you say, scowling and pushing him away as you try not to blush in front of him again. You don’t want him to know just how easily he’s getting to you.

“Can’t handle it?” he asks, his tone light and playful.

“Oh, I can handle it just fine. Your words don’t affect me, cowboy,” you scoff, trying to come off as more nonchalant.

Billy grins at your response, enjoying the banter. He reaches down and plucks a wildflower from the tall grass, and gently places it behind your ear, alongside your soft hair. “I’ll see you tonight then, doll. I’ll come pick you up right here.”

You feel your stomach twisting slightly at the thought—there’s no way your father would allow you to go out with someone from town. He thinks they’re all uncivilized bastards. “I can’t leave without permission from my parents,” you say, which isn’t exactly a lie—you do need to inform them where you’re going and when you’ll be back.

“You’re an adult, aren’t you?” he asks, his brow furrowing slightly. “Why do you need to ask ‘em to go on a date?”

“It’s complicated…” you say, not wanting to get into the specifics of your father’s big plans for your eventual marriage to some rich older man. Or, if you’re lucky, someone more age appropriate—perhaps a rich man’s son, one that will inherit his father’s fortune eventually.

Billy grunts, rubbing his scruffy chin with his hand. “Alright then, we’ll just have to have our date here then. That okay with you? I’ll make it real special,” he says, looking down at you, determinedly. You can’t help but feel a little flattered that he’d go this far just to be on a date with you.

“I think the question is if it’s alright with you. My parents aren’t exactly… lenient, as you can probably tell,” you say, shrugging. “Do you still want to go out with me then?”

Billy laughs aloud, his blue eyes piercing into yours. “‘Course I do, sweetheart. You caught my eye, and I’m the kind of man that gets what he wants. If that means we can’t go out on the town together, then so be it.”

You giggle softly at his smooth talking, and he reaches over to adjust the flower he put behind your ear. As he gently caresses the side of your face, you lean in and press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Just to remember me by,” you say, almost shyly—you’re not sure what overcame you, to do something so bold.

But Billy just chuckles and brushes a lock of hair out of your face, looking down at you. “Don’t tease me like that, sweetheart. I wouldn’t be able to forget you, even if I tried,” he says, leaning in close, but not enough for your lips to touch. He pulls away, smirking at your blush. “I’ll be back for you,” he promises, pressing a rough kiss to the back of your hand. “As soon as the sun starts to set, I’ll be here, waiting for you.”

“Promise?” you ask doubtfully, looking up at him. Sure, he seems to be charming, but you’re no fool to how men can act.

“Promise,” he says softly, looking into your eyes. The bright, piercing blue suddenly seems much calmer, much gentler. “You can trust me.”

With that, Billy heads off. You didn’t even see his horse, tied up to the post that the end of your clothesline is attached to, but he unties her and saddles up, slinging himself over her back with ease. She’s different from your father’s horses; a cream color instead of the rich chestnut brown of the Morgans. You don’t ask what kind of horse she is, but you certainly admire her as he adjusts the reins before tugging on them gently. He gives you a smirk before his horse sets off at a trot, and he disappears into the fields of tall grass, presumably heading back into town, or perhaps back home. Where that is for him, you’re unsure.

Now that the excitement of a handsome stranger has died down, you find the laundry mundane and pointless. Grumbling to yourself, you hurry to try and finish the chore, knowing you can’t break your promise to the maids. That would be unfair, and it would only earn them punishment from your father—which isn’t something you want them to go through. You rather like the maids after all, and often converse with them while you help with the chores, though they always insist that you don’t need to help.

Finally, you pin the last linen to the clothesline, and thank goodness too—the line is completely full. You must remind your mother to either stop buying new garments, or to install some more clotheslines. Otherwise, laundry day will only be more of a drag. You pick up your skirt, your ankles and legs sweltering underneath the heavy fabric, and hurry into the house.

The air inside isn’t much cooler, but it’s at least shade and coverage from the direct sun. Your dress is definitely too thick for the season, but to be quite fair it was much chillier in the morning, and cloudy too. You try to discreetly fan yourself under your dress, flapping your skirt as you sit down in the parlor, but your mother gives you a disapproving look over her knitting as you do so. You drop your skirts, resisting the urge to throw your head back and groan from the disgusting feeling of the damp material clinging to your sweaty skin. “Ma,” you begin, looking at her hopefully, “isn’t there anything else to do around the house?”

“If you’re so bored, why don’t you recite your Bible verses, or work on your patchwork quilt?” she replies, unamused with your attempts to convince her to leave the house. “You have plenty of things to do before you begin your classes next week.”

You furrow your brow and wrinkle your nose, stopping only when your mother gives you another stern look. “Fine… I’ll work on my quilt,” you mutter, getting up to rifle through the sewing box, which sits in the corner next to the fireplace. You pick up your half finished quilt, the bright colors you naively chose in the winter looking garish and tacky. You regret your choices, but your mother won’t let you pick new colors—it’s much too expensive to buy more fabric, when you have perfectly good pieces to use, she scolded you, making you sulk and give up on the project as a whole for a few months.

It’s not difficult, but it’s mindless and boring. Your fingers start to cramp and twitch, disobeying your mind as you try to finish sewing a bright red patch onto the quilt. Giving up and taking a break to massage your fingers, your eyes slowly move over to look at the grandfather clock that stands in the center of the wall, quietly ticking and biding time. Back home, you knew that the sun usually set well past supper time, and it was only around supper time now. As you stare out the window, you can see the late afternoon sun slowly beginning to sink lower into the horizon, leaving a bright burst of color in its path. Not yet.

You return to your patchwork quilt. Place, hold, sew, knot, snip. Start over.

Time has never passed by so slowly, and you’ve never wanted anything to come quicker. The first interesting thing that’s happened since you moved here for the summer, and you have to wait all day for it to even begin.

Finally, finally, after you finish sewing on a pale green square, you look up, and the sun is beginning to breach the horizon, orangey-red rays spreading across the sky like a live flame. The great big grandfather clock begins to chime, striking seven o’clock, and you pretend to not notice, not wanting to arouse your mother’s suspicions. A few minutes later, once your heartbeat has slowed once again, you sigh and put down your patchwork quilt.

“I think I might go wash up and go to bed early,” you tell your mother, faking a yawn behind your hand. She hardly looks up at you, waving you off as she watches the maids mop the floors with narrowed eyes.

Hurrying up the stairs to your attic bedroom, you make sure your dress isn’t too wrinkled, and you pinch your cheeks to make yourself look a little more flushed, though it doesn’t do much except for make your skin sting a little. Smoothing back your hair the best you can, you sigh, exhilarated, and stuff a few dresses and pillows underneath your covers to make it look like you’re cozy in bed. Then, holding your breath as you hear someone walk past your room, you open your window slowly, inch by inch, until it’s wide enough for you to slip out without your wide skirts catching on anything.

You hold your breath as you climb out onto the roof and slowly shut the window again, making sure it’s still unlocked so that you have a way back into the house once you come back. The drop looks much higher from up here than it does from the ground, and you can feel a pit of uneasiness and fear in your stomach as you cling to the wall of your house and look down at the grassy terrain below. “Damn it,” you mutter to yourself, second-guessing if this is really worth it after all. After a moment of contemplating, you bite your lower lip and start inching down the roof, making sure to grab onto the shingles with your hands, tightly. Once again, inch by inch, you make your way to the edge of the roof, and then peer down. There’s another part of the roof down there that’s much lower, and from there you could easily jump to the ground without injuring yourself.

It takes a few moments to convince yourself you can do it, but you dangle off the side of the roof for a moment before dropping onto the lower portion, your boots landing with a solid thud on the shingles, and you sincerely hope that your mother didn’t hear it. Just in case, you scramble off the lower part of the roof, easily lowering yourself onto the grass, and dart away to the other side of the house. You see the clotheslines come into view, now plucked clean of the clothes and linens by the maids, and you stand by one of the poles that holds up the main line, taking a deep breath and exhaling.

“Hey.”

You jump, again, almost knocking the intruder in the chin. The intruder—whom you now realize as Billy—chuckles and gently grabs your wrist, his calloused fingers rubbing over your soft skin, caressing it. “Sorry if I scared you,” he says, sheepishly. He presses a kiss to the back of your hand, just like the one he gave you before when he bid you goodbye.

“Just a little,” you admit, smiling softly down at him as his slightly chapped lips press to the back of your hand. “But I’ll forgive you… if you give me a reason to.”

“Now what exactly are you implying there, miss?” Billy asks, raising his eyebrows at you.

Boldly, you pull him close, your hands gently grabbing the front of his vest. Your lips brush against his as you whisper, “Something like this.”

Groaning lowly, Billy wraps his arms around you, his hands gripping your waist as he presses his lips firmly to yours, pulling your body against his. In the waning sunlight he looks beautiful, and you can’t help but pull away from the kiss every now and then to catch your breath and stare at him. His bright blue eyes contrast with the warm light of the sunset, which also makes his tanned skin absolutely glow. His handsome, prominent features cast long shadows on his face, and you watch the corner of his lip twitch upwards, almost into a smile as he reaches up to cup your face gently. His thumb brushes against your cheek, and you shudder softly, the feeling making you crave more of his touch. You reach up to place your hand over his, your eyes sparkling in the orangey-pink sunlight, and capture your lips with his again, hungrily, desperately.

“You’re driving me insane, sweetheart,” he growls, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you closer against his toned, muscular body. You can feel heat radiating off of him through his clothes and he presses himself against you. “If you don’t stop, I’m gonna end up taking you right here in this field, where anyone could see us.”

You can’t help the shiver that goes through your body at his dirty words, your eyes widening. You almost can’t believe that he said it aloud, what you were secretly hoping for this entire time. It makes you blush, makes you feel dirty—whorish, even.

He can feel the shudder that goes through your entire body, and he can’t help but smirk at your eagerness, which is expressed through every form of language except speaking. He lightly runs his hands up and down the sides of your body, feeling your curves. “Do you like the sound of that, sweetheart?” he asks—almost purrs, making you moan softly in response, nodding. He chuckles, and pulls you behind a grove of lush apple trees, which are all adorned with small, hard, unripe fruit. Still, the thick, green summer foliage provides cover for the two of you, and as soon as he gets you behind the cover of the trees he starts undoing the back of your dress, making your heart race. Were you really prepared for this? It had been a while since you’d last been with a man—secretly, of course.

He must have been able to sense your hesitation, or something, because he leans down to whisper, “We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t wanna, doll.” He presses a soft kiss to your neck, his tongue gently darting out to lick the sensitive skin. You shiver, squirming under his touch, and shake your head.

“No. I want to… I promise I do,” you whisper desperately. You can’t let this chance get away from you—even though you were debating whether or not you were really prepared, and earlier you wondered whether it was worth it or not to come—now you realize you’ve come too far to give up now. And besides… you do really want it. You think Billy is the one of most handsome men you've ever seen, and you’re not so secretly thrilled that he seems to find you attractive too. You’re not afraid of your sexuality when you’re with a partner, though you’re very well aware of the stigma around discussing it.

Billy looks up at you, studying your expression—presumably trying to see if you’re really being truthful, or if you’re lying to him. He seems to find that you’re being honest, however, as he leans forward and his lips crash onto yours again. He gently picks you up and then lays you down on the soft grass, which is still warm from the sun that was shining down on it all day. He continues to unbutton your dress, desperately wanting to see all of you, but you swat his hand away, knowing you don’t have that much time. He pouts, but instead moves his hands down to start pushing up your skirts, grinning as he simultaneously reaches up with one of his hands to pull down your undergarments as well. You gather your skirts up with shaking hands, exposing yourself to him as you part your thighs. It’s a little odd when you start to think about it—you’re about to hook up with a random man you don’t really know, in the middle of your family’s apple orchard. But as soon as Billy’s hot, wet tongue licks over your folds, your mind goes blank. The only thing you can think of is the way his mouth feels on your pussy.

He rips your undergarments off completely, making you gasp, and then he pushes your thighs apart further, burying his face into your cunt and licking you like he’s been starved of pussy for years. You can’t help but moan, trying to hold back just in case anyone is walking by, but it’s difficult as Billy wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, hard, making you throw your head back and gasp, your thighs threatening to clamp around his head to hold him in place. But his strong hands hold your shaking legs apart as he continues to devour you, without any interruptions.

Soon—much sooner than usual—you feel your orgasm slowly approaching, a certain warmth pooling in your lower stomach as Billy flicks his tongue over your clit and stares up at you with his bright eyes, burning with lust and desire.

“B-Billy…” you whine, bucking your hips and tangling your fingers in his dark curls to pull his face closer to your cunt, “g-gonna…”

Billy groans, wrapping his lips tightly around your clit to suck harder on your sensitive nub. “Come for me, sweetheart,” he encourages, returning his mouth to your soaking pussy, his tongue licking over your weeping slit.

And you do—obedient, as per usual. You come hard, gasping and tightening your grip on his hair, making him moan as he continues to gently lick and kiss your sensitive clit, making your thighs twitch with overstimulation. You release your grasp on his hair as you slowly ride out your orgasm, your breathing slowing and returning to normal. You’re surprised—that was by far the fastest any man has made you orgasm, let alone, orgasm at all. He has manners, you think, as he finally rises from between your legs, licking his lips and tasting your juices, making you feel a wave of slight embarrassment at his shamelessness. He grins at your facial expression, and gently pulls you into a kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue, musky and tangy, and you moan, sucking softly on his tongue and making his grip on your hips tighten as he groans into the sloppy kiss.

He reaches down to unbuckle his belt, the clinking sound turning your attention to it. You watch as his large hands quickly and nimbly undo his own belt, and then his jeans, pushing them down slightly. He hesitates as he hooks his fingers underneath his undergarments, looking up at you. “Do you wanna keep going?” he asks, looking into your eyes with a gentle glance, trying to assure you that it’s okay if you don’t.

But you nod eagerly, parting your legs further for him as you lay back in the grass, not even caring any more if it stains your dress. You don’t even care that the sun has nearly completely set now, and the two of you are bathed in reddish orange light as the sunset nears its climax. You too feel that way, as Billy pushes down his undergarments and his cock springs out, your eyes widening as you see it for the first time. It’s certainly impressive, girthy and long, but not unrealistically large. He reaches down to stroke himself a few times before slicking his tip over your folds, shuddering as he feels your wetness coating the head of his cock.

“Ready for me, sweetheart?” he asks breathlessly, looking down at you with an expression that’s a mixture of lust, desire, and concern.

Trying to rid Billy of his concerns, you reach up to cup his face in your hands, and you pull him into a kiss, gently biting his lower lip and making him groan aloud again, his hips bucking forward and nudging his tip inside of your tight warmth. The two of you gasp simultaneously at the feeling of your pussy enveloping the first inch or so of his length, and he starts to slowly push further, inch by inch, trying not to hurt you.

But of course, it was inevitable in this situation. Though Billy had gone down on you, he hadn’t really stretched you out, and you were paying the price for it now. Whimpering, with sweat dripping down your back from the warmth of the sunset and the heat of Billy against you, you try to bear the pain.

He kisses you deeply, nipping on your lower lip to try and distract you from the pain, and it does, just a little. “Fuck…” you whine softly, gritting your teeth as he eases into you, finally bottoming out with a soft groan.

“Language, doll,” he reminds you teasingly, though his voice is strained too—an obvious sign of how deeply you’re affecting him. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he starts to slowly thrust into you, his hands gripping your hips tightly to hold you in place. You can feel just how deep he is inside, how his thick cock penetrates not only your tight cunt, but seemingly your mind and soul. Every sense, every inch of your being is clouded with lust and the image of him. He’s all you can see, all you can hear, all you can taste, smell, and touch.

Perhaps he’s in the same situation as you—the same state of obsession and all-consuming lust, as he moans your name over and over again, paired with obscenities and other dirty words that you wouldn’t dare to repeat. He pulls away slightly to look at you, his rough and calloused hand reaching up to gently smooth your hair back out of your face. He grins.

“So pretty, baby,” he groans, sweat dripping from the tip of his handsome nose, his exertion obvious as his thrusts grow sloppier.

You can feel your wetness coating your inner thighs and dripping down your crevices; every time he thrusts into you, you can feel the stickiness of your combined fluids suctioning his body to yours. It should be disgusting—but you love it—the feeling of his passion mixed with yours.

His breathing grows more ragged, and your whines and moans grow higher in pitch as he feels his orgasm coming on—he thrusts into you harder, your squeals falling on deaf ears as he chases his own release, using you like a toy to get what he wants.

Yet, he reaches down, nudging your legs a little further apart as his thumb starts to rub your clit in small, rough circles, making you gasp and clench around his length. He groans loudly, his movements speeding up. “Come with me, sweetheart,” he demands, his voice firm and gruff. And you can’t help but obey—the combined stimulation of his calloused thumb on your swollen clit and the feeling of his cock fucking into your slick pussy mercilessly pushing you over the edge. You gasp, before moaning loudly, forgetting that this is meant to be a secret rendezvous, as you cum all over his thick cock, your walls clenching tightly around his length. He throws his head back and groans, the feeling of your pussy fluttering around him too much, and he pulls out just as thick white ropes spurt from his tip, landing all over your stomach and pussy.

The two of you lay there in quiet reflection for a moment, the only thing interrupting the silence being the heavy breathing that emanates from both of you. The aftermath of your tryst.

Slowly, Billy pulls away, chuckling a little to diffuse the awkwardness as his bare skin sticks to yours. He uses his handkerchief to clean you up, pocketing it again as he grins at you. “This was fun,” he says, as the two of you get dressed. “We should do it again sometime.”

You can’t help the way your heart flutters hopefully at Billy’s words, at the verbal confirmation that he wants to see you again. “Maybe,” you say shyly, as you stand up, checking to see if there’s any grass stains on your dress after all. Billy walks over to you and hugs you from behind, his hands falling to your hips. He squeezes gently, and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Just maybe? What does a man have to do to get your attention for good?” he laughs, wrapping his arms around you.

“Prove himself to me,” you say, cheekily, as you pull away. Your eyes twinkle in the moonlight, and it makes Billy’s heart skip a beat. He feels like a foolish teenager again, in the midst of puppy love.

“As? A man, a husband, a provider?” he asks cockily, “I can be all of those, for you.”

Rolling your eyes, you reach up to pinch his cheek playfully. “Sure. All of the above,” you say, grinning. “I’m not the type to settle for a man that isn’t loyal or good to me.”

“I’m sure you aren’t, sweetheart,” Billy snorts, thinking about your massive house and your rich father—clearly, you weren’t brought up in such a way, to settle for any sort of mediocre treatment. Still, his heart softens when he looks down at you and your beautiful face. He couldn’t blame you for any of the issues with the rich ranchers forcing out poorer townsfolk—it really wasn’t your fault. But it was just a reminder of the different worlds that you two lived in. “And… I’m not the type of man to betray your trust either. You can trust me.”

“That’s why I’m waiting until you prove it to me. Words only go so far, and even though I want to trust you…” you say, pulling away teasingly. It makes Billy chuckle—he liked when girls teased him, kept him on his toes.

“Alright, alright… I won’t push you too far. Let’s take it at your pace,” he says, his eyes sparkling with affection as he looks down at you.

Billy, always the gentleman, walks you back home. When the massive white house comes into view once again, he whistles—he’s never lived in a house like that. It makes you squirm with embarrassment, almost makes you ashamed that you live in such luxury and most people don’t. Being aware of your privilege was uncomfortable, but he didn’t know that.

He gives you a kiss good night, his touch lingering for just a moment before he pulls away and disappears into the night just as suddenly as he came. With flushed cheeks and your heart thumping in your chest, you climb back up the side of your house. It’s much easier than your initial escape, now that your nerves have calmed.

There’s no question about it—you’ll definitely be seeing him again soon.

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