The bonfire had dwindled to glowing embers, the smoke drifting lazily into the dark sky. Guests were saying their goodbyes, laughter and conversation fading into the night as cars trailed down the winding lane. Somewhere, the faint echo of a last song lingered, carried by the breeze off the lake.
Emma's dad moved among the remaining chairs and tables, stacking them with methodical care. His movements were precise, almost automatic, his eyes scanning the lawn for any stray plates or cups left behind. He muttered to himself, shaking his head but saying nothing to anyone in particular.
Meanwhile, Emma's mum rounded up the younger children, her voice brisk and clipped. "Teddy! Twins! Zoey! Time to get in the car!" The children protested half-heartedly, too tired from the excitement to resist. She shepherded them toward the driveway, shaking her head and muttering under her breath that it hadn't been necessary to have the party at all.
In the Whitmore house, Tommy's mother was already running a bath for Alex, the younger boy splashing and coughing as she fussed over him. Her tone was sharp and controlled, her words layered with criticism. "You're supposed to keep your balance! Don't splash like that! And Jack, stop standing there doing nothing!" She scrubbed at Alex's damp hair while still scolding him, her eyes flicking toward the window where the lights of the bonfire were fading.
The rest of the house was quiet but tense. None of the Whitmore family had any idea that Tommy had slipped out, that he and Emma were nowhere to be found.
Across the lawn, no one knew where Emma had gone either. Her small, soaked footprints had disappeared into the line of trees beyond the fire pit, leaving only the whisper of wind through the branches to mark her escape.
The night air was cool, carrying the faint scent of smoke and damp earth. The parents were busy with cleanup and scolding, the children tired and frustrated, and still Tommy and Emma were hidden somewhere in the woods — two figures drawn together by a bond no one else could see, separated from the chaos of their families yet tethered to it by the evening's events.
It was a delicate balance: the remnants of a summer celebration clashing with the simmering tension of mothers scolding, fathers tidying, and children needing care. And in that quiet, unobserved corner of the world, Tommy wrapped the blanket around Emma again, holding her close, letting the warmth of his arms say everything the night had not.
No one would know for hours. And for once, that was exactly what they needed.
Emma
I hugged my knees to my chest, letting the blanket fall around me like a shield. Tommy's arms were so warm, so steady, so comforting, and for a moment I let myself pretend the world could stay like this forever. But as soon as I closed my eyes, the thoughts started creeping in, sharp and relentless.
I like him. I like him more than anyone else I've ever liked. More than I thought I could. His laugh, the way he looks at me like I'm the only person in the room, even when there are dozens of people around… it makes my chest feel too full and my stomach twist at the same time. And the way he stays close, protects me without making a fuss… it makes me feel safe. Safer than I've felt in years.
But there's a part of me that's terrified. His parents. Mrs. Whitmore, with her polished voice and sharp eyes, the way she measures everything, everyone. And Mr. Whitmore, with his constant judgment and that sense that nothing is ever good enough. I can't imagine them ever accepting me. I'm messy, loud, from a house that's always on edge, where nothing is perfect. I'm… me. And what if they see me and decide I'm not allowed to be near him?
Then there's the future — my own future, which is crumbling faster than I can even say. Dad's job here… it's over. And when that happens, we'll have to leave. Move somewhere else. Somewhere new. Somewhere that isn't here.
And then… what about Tommy? What about us? I've never even been in a proper relationship before, never kissed anyone, never felt my heart pound like it does around him. And now that I've felt it, now that I've had a glimpse of this… this connection… the thought of losing him makes my heart drop out of my chest.
Maybe he'll forget me in a week, or two. Maybe he won't even notice when I'm gone. Maybe I'll be another summer memory, something that existed for a few weeks and then disappeared.
But I can't stop thinking about him. I can't stop imagining the way his hand feels in mine, the quiet, protective strength in his arms, the gentle way he looks at me like I matter more than anything else in the world.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to make the tightness in my chest go away. Trying to stop the panic from building. But I know it won't. Not tonight. Not while I still want him more than anything.
And maybe that's the cruelest part — loving someone I might never see again, loving someone from a world that isn't mine, someone whose life is so different, so unreachable.
I let out a shaky breath, letting the warmth of the blanket and his memory wrap around me. For a few minutes, I allowed myself to believe it could all be okay. And then reality crept back in, whispering in my ear that nothing was permanent, nothing was safe, and that the future might take him away from me before I even had the chance to tell him how much he matters.
Tommy
I leaned back against the tree, drawing circles in the ground with my fingers while the last of the firelight flickered across the lake. My mind kept replaying the night — Emma in my arms, her hair damp, the way she'd trembled when the cold and shock hit her, and the little sigh she'd made when I held her close. I could still feel the warmth of her body pressed against mine, the quiet trust in letting me wrap her in the blanket.
God, I liked her. Liked her more than I thought it was possible to like anyone. Every time I thought about her laugh, the way she teased me, the sharp little sparks in her eyes, it made my chest tighten and my thoughts scatter. She wasn't just the girl who lived by the lake. She was Emma, my Emma, and the idea of losing her made my stomach churn.
But the thought of her parents' life, and mine, was like a wall pressing between us. My mother's sharp eyes, always calculating, always judging. The way she expected everything from me — perfect grades, perfect manners, perfect choices. And my father, so controlled, so… precise. My life had been mapped out long before I could even question it. And now there was Emma, unpredictable, fierce, different from anyone I'd ever known.
What would my parents think if they knew I was thinking about her like this? If they knew I'd kissed her? If they knew I wanted to hold her close and never let go?
And yet… I didn't care. Not really. Not tonight.
I closed my eyes and let the memory of her in the woods wash over me. The smell of the lake, her damp hair, the way she'd leaned into me when the world had been too loud, too angry. She hadn't just saved Alex. She'd saved me too — she'd reminded me that I could feel, that I could care, that I could want something more than just a perfect life mapped out by my father.
A pang hit me — the thought of her leaving. Of her family moving away. Of never seeing her again. I hated the idea, hated it more than I could even admit. What would I do if she disappeared from my life? If the only traces of her were the memories pressed into my chest like a secret I couldn't share?
I shook my head, trying to banish the worry, but it lingered stubbornly. And worse, I didn't know if I could ever tell her how I felt — not properly, not without risking her thinking I was arrogant or entitled, the son of some rich family who had no idea what real life was like.
But she would know soon enough, in some small way. She already saw the things I didn't say — the way I held her hand, the way I laughed at her jokes, the way I kissed her in the woods like it was the only safe place in the world.
And maybe that was enough for now.
I opened my eyes and looked toward the distant glow of the bonfire, where families were packing up, mothers scolding, fathers hauling chairs, kids complaining. None of them knew where we were. None of them would understand the bond forming between us tonight.
I pressed my forehead to the top of her head, took a deep breath, closed my eyes again, and made a silent promise to myself: I wouldn't let her go. Not without a fight.