chapter eight

708 84 64
                                    

a/n you can play the song above when you see the music symbol :)

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

a/n you can play the song above when you see the music symbol :)

If someone were to tell me three days ago that I would be hanging out of my window at quarter to ten on a Saturday night, trying to sneak out of my room, I would've laughed. Then I would have slapped them for making such a ridiculous presumption about me and also because in case you hadn't noticed, I'm a woman with violent tendencies.

Never in a million years had I ever foreseen myself committing such a rebellious and life-threatening act, yet here I am. Hanging out of my window, much to the protest of my left arm, which by the way, is on the verge of snapping.

Am I regretting this? Yes.

Should I have tried harder during PE lessons to prevent having the puny arms which may be the reason I fall off and die at this very moment? Absolutely.

But am I going to give up? Not today, Satan.

When formulating a plan with Mason as to how I was going to leave the house without my parents finding out, we clearly underestimated the difficulty of the very first step, which is, climbing out of the window. I assumed it couldn't be too difficult as Mason manages to do it with ease every day. However, I think I may have forgotten to take into account the minor detail that Mason is an athlete and I evidently, am not.

Making every effort to stay as still as possible, I peer below at my feet flailing in the air. It's a six feet drop. Maybe slightly more. If all goes wrong, the worst possible outcome is a twisted ankle. I can live with that.

Before I can talk myself out of doing it, I squeeze my eyes shut and release my grip from the window ledge.

I land on the grass with a loud thud.

The lights in the living room are on and one of the windows has been left ajar. Luckily, it sounds like my parents are watching a Bollywood film and it's reached a musical interlude so I doubt they heard me. Also, musical interludes tend to go on for around a decade and a half so this will give me more than enough time to escape.

Scrambling to my feet, which by a miracle are still fully intact, I make my way to the end of the street, where Mason's car is parked under a streetlight.

As I approach the car, I can see that Mason is bopping his head behind the steering wheel, which I assume is to the beat of a Drake song. His face lights up when he spots me and he starts moving his head side to side vigorously. I do the same in response, grinning like a Cheshire cat. The adrenaline from having just risked my life seems to have given me a sudden boost of energy.

When I open the door to the passenger's seat, I'm more than slightly confused to hear Prince Ali from the new Aladdin movie being blasted from the speakers.

We watched the movie together a couple of months ago. I personally enjoyed it and thought that it was a solid film but let's just say that it had a slightly bigger impact on Mason. We watched it at his house and after the final scene I decided to head to the kitchen to make us both coffee, but he just sat there completely awe-struck. Mouth open and all. When I came back around five minutes later, he was still in the same position with the same expression even after the credits had rolled by. The boy was blown away.

The Truth About LoveWhere stories live. Discover now