Wish We Never Started

11

Amelia pulls up to the curb in front of her childhood home. It's a narrow two-story with a covered porch and a big tree in the front yard. It reminds me of a house out of a storybook, the porch swing and cream colored siding give it a certain charm.

"We'll sneak in the front door. Nobody will be there. Everyone is in the back of the house eating dessert," Amelia casually says as we get out of the car, the doors slamming shut with an echo.

"What if they do see us... or me?" I ask, giving my shirt a quick sniff to make sure it's not too disgusting.

"They will not. I promise you. Most of them are drunk anyway," she tells me while assertively grabbing my hand to lead me up the lawn.

The whole thing makes me feel like a teenager again, sneaking into a girlfriend's house. You get really good at it, but I'm way too rusty and out of practice now. It makes me glad that Amelia is leading the way for this one.

She turns and gestures for me to be quiet as she ever so gently pushes the front door open. I'm hit with the smell of turkey from earlier and the subtle scent of cigarettes, all floating in warm air.

I can barely glance inside before Amelia grabs my wrist again from behind, yanking me towards a dark ascending staircase like I'm an object she needs to quickly get rid of.

I nearly trip, but remain quiet as I crouch and watch her peer towards the sound of voices laughing and talking in the back of the house. My fingers are crossed that nobody even noticed us entering.

Quickly, she gestures for me to go up and I start climbing, looking back to make sure she's coming, too. We get to the top of the stairs and she throws herself onto me, giggling as we fall backwards onto the worn down carpet.

"I fucking told you nobody would notice," she whispers.

"Stop giggling and let's go," I tell her, clearly more concerned someone is going to come to the staircase and see us than she is. There is a dark hallway to our left, one of the doors has to be her bedroom or some sort of room we can occupy.

Amelia stands up, creeping down the dark hallway until she reaches the very end. She opens the door on the left slowly, waving me to come with her.

We finally get inside her room, and she closes the door, flicking a switch to turn on strings of white christmas lights draped along her walls.

I feel a wave of relief, because at least we are behind closed doors now.

Her room is painted lilac, the color she must have chosen as a child. However, everything else is neat and tidy and clean – not one trace of Amelia as a child is left behind.

There is a bed, an ironing board folded up in the corner, and a shelf with someone's craft supplies. I take my coat off and drape it over a swivel chair that's next to the shelf.

"Do you really want to do this?" She asks me in an innocent tone, her lips close to my neck from behind. Her warm breath against my skin sends goosebumps up my arms as I let go of my coat, which I realize I'm still gripping. 

Her arms wrap around my waist, and I almost feel like I'm pinned. I breathe in through my nose and turn around to face her.

"Do you?" I push some of her hair away from her face.

It would be fine if she didn't – that would just mean I would get to go home and sleep. Something I feel like I desperately need right now.

"Yes," she says, already playing with the hemline of my shirt. Her tone gives off a sense of impatience, like she's waiting for me to make the first move.