Start a Revolution

"What's your family like?"

Drew's gaze snaps over to John, her eyes widening. He didn't seem fazed as he asked her, keeping his face ahead as they continued to crack through the gravel in the Renaissance Festival. So far they'd explored over fifteen of the deserted shops here, snooping around for any forgotten treasures. They'd lucked out and found a purple mask with gold lining, that was now dangling around John's neck, and they'd also spotted a parasol lying on the ground. And they sound figured out why it was on ground, judging by the giant tear in one crease. But they kept it anyway, unopened, Drew messing around and using it as a cane.

"My family?" Drew repeats his question, her brows creasing. He just nods, his hands coming up to adjust the mask around his neck. She watches him for a few more moments, but he didn't return her look. Ever since their conversation about his her sister, he'd been a tad off. And it got worse after the slide. It itched at her, but she kept her curiosity under wraps.

John waits patiently, even though his mind was somewhere else.

He couldn't stop thinking about their almost-kiss. He was so close to just being able to lean forward and capture her lips in his; but she pulled away too fast. It hurt him to know she pulled back. He wanted to kiss her so bad that it hurt.

"My family is average," Drew shrugs, bringing him back to his question. "Parents, siblings. Except it isn't like it used to be. Everything's different."

This peaked John's interest. He glances over at her. "What do you mean?"

She hesitates, looking down at the ground. She scrapes the top of her closed parasol against the ground, drawing a line in the dirt. "It's like...ever since I was about eight years old, my parents have just...been off. I know something happened, because there was this one night where my parents dragged me out of bed at the ass crack of dawn and forced me down my grandma's throat until the next day. They were gone the whole time and when they came back, I noticed my mom had been crying and my dad looked...distressed."

"When was this?" John cuts in, his throat dry and his heart pounding. She was eight. If he did the math in his head correctly, she would have been eight years old at the time of the accident. Was this the same night as the accident?

"I was eight, so..." Drew seems thoughtful. "Nine years ago...1998."

Fuck.

"Where had they been?" the boy asks quietly as they come upon the jousting arena. He grins up at it, old memories of his 9-year-old self and his brothers messing around in there.

Drew stops walking, noticing they were at the edge of the festival. She breathes, looking up at the dark sky. "I don't know. They never told me. I pretend to not remember that night, but I do. I remember every second of it. I remember my sister Annie stumbling in when they dragged me out of bed. She was crying as well and she was screaming and arguing; it was all so much that I can't decipher anything she said."

John could just feel it clicking in his head. "How old was Annie at the time?"

"Sixteen."

They fall into silence, the crickets even going quiet. They were just staring at each other, holding the other's gaze. Drew could feel her breath speeding up, swearing to herself that she could see him leaning forward, his eyes flicking to peer at her mouth. She could feel her lips part instinctively, her eyes daring to slip closed.

"Hey!"

A beam of light washes over them, bathing them in a yellow glow. Both of the teenagers look up, their eyes narrowed as they squint up at wherever this light was coming from.

"Shit," John hisses. "The cops."

Drew's head snaps over to look at him square in the face. "What?"

"Come on!" he calls, grabbing hold of her hand and pulling her away from the beam of light. She felt her heart accelerate at the thought of actually being arrested as her and John run back the way they come, passing the empty shops and dark halls.

"Where are we going?" she asks over their pounding footsteps and the calls of the policeman behind them. His flashlight followed their figures, but not very well.

John glances back at her as they run, his eyes gazing back in front of them. He obviously knew where he was going. "Somewhere to hide," he answers, their voice still loud. "I've gotten arrested by him before, it was a couple years back. Me and Shane had to spend the night in the slammer and I don't want it to happen again." His breathing became labored as they happen to lose the cop as they turn a corner. John pulls her into a shop that had a lots of shelves up above them and many twists and pivots.

"Here," he takes the parasol from her and chucks it above his head. It disappears up on an empty shelf. She curses as she hears the cops footsteps. Drew turns back to look at John.

She gapes as she sees him scaling up the shelves, his lean body doing it effortlessly.

"What are you doing?" she hisses, her heart deafening as the running footsteps drew closer.

He doesn't answer as he pushes himself up on the top shelf, her mind wondering how his weight could balance on such a small thing. He turns back to look down at her, his hand stretching out toward her.

"John—"

"Do you trust me?"

She felt her chest collapse at those four words. Her eyes flicker to his hand, open and inviting, outstretched to help her. She glances back as the cop rounded the corner.

"Drew," John murmurs, his voice soft, their eyes locking, "do you trust me?"

She immediately nods, her breath leaving her body as she grabs his hand. He hoists her up beside him, her knee scraping against a wooden shelf as she goes up. She falls against John, her eyes noting that they weren't on a shelf. Above the shelves was a small alcove, their bodies hidden by the dark. But even so, the two teens push back as far as they could, their back hitting a wall. It was a small corner, and Drew was pushed right up against John, her back to his chest. His arms were curled around her waist, much like it had been on the slide, his heartbeat pounding against her spine. She could feel his breath against her neck.

The cop comes upon the shop they were stashed in. His flashlight moves across the empty shelves and the deserted walls, before he was moving on, running toward another shop across the dirt lot. But neither of the teens moved, their breathing still hard and unstable, hearts still racing.

"Is he gone?" Drew dares to whisper five minutes later.

John snapped out of his reverie. He was pondering on the fact of how his arms fit perfectly around her waist and how her back curved into his chest quite well.

John exhales slowly, breath fanning over her skin. "I think so."

And without even thinking about it, Drew dares to glance over her shoulder at John. Their faces stop inches away from each other, air leaving both of their bodies. Drew couldn't keep her gaze from wandering to his lips, his own eyes on hers as well. He noticed the plump shape of them, pink and soft. His arms tighten around her on instinct, huddling her body closer to his. Then her eyes slip shut and John took that as an invitation.

His mouth moves forward, his head ducking down, to press his lips to hers. An electric shock courses down both spines as their lips connect, shock waves making their skin tingle and their fingertips burn. Drew's mouth opens before any plausible thought could enter her brain, John's tongue slipping inside.

John was right; her mouth was softer than feathers.

And Drew was right; he was probably the best kisser she'd ever had the pleasure of kissing.

But at that thought, after their mouths had been locked for a good 60 seconds, she pulls her mouth away quickly, their lips popping. John didn't want it to end, his brows scrunching in puzzlement as their eyes open.

Silence settles over them as they both take in what just occurred. Two teenagers that had been enemies since grade school just kissed. Kissed.

"Oh no," Drew whispers, her breath hitting John's lips.

He savored it, the feeling of her lips on his imprinted against his skin, but she was moving away from him, his arms sliding out from around her waist before he could stop her. "Wait, Drew!" he calls out as she goes to the edge of the alcove, dropping off and landing in the shop. He crawled forward and peered down at her, but she was already running away, out of the deserted shop and her feet kicking up dust, sprinting toward the parking lot.

"Drew!" John calls again, his heart sinking.

But she was gone. His voice lost in the dark and the wind.