Run Away With Me

Mackenzie's asleep when knuckles tap her window. She wakes, heart banging, and sees Veronica Valentine standing outside with a backpack. The latch clicks, the sash slides up. Veronica climbs in smelling like midnight air and trouble. We're doing it, Veronica says. Right now. Eloping. The word hits Mackenzie like a fist in the ribs. They fantasized about leaving, but talk was cheap. Now Veronica wants actual vows, miles between them and their folks. Mackenzie steps back, cold all over. She tries to laugh it off, calls it crazy talk, but her voice cracks. Veronica presses, voice low and steady, until Mackenzie spits the truth she’s been choking on: what if getting married this young wrecks them? What if the very thing that holds them together ends up tearing them apart? Veronica cups her face, thumb tracing the worry line between her brows. They won’t let it happen. Not them. Mackenzie gives in by inches, melting under the certainty in Veronica’s mouth. Kisses turn needy; shirts come off; Veronica’s lips close around a hard nipple while her fingers slide lower. Mackenzie spreads, breath hissing when a tongue meets slick heat. They work each other with hungry focus, soft wet sounds mingling with the creak of the bed. Each flick of tongue, each grab at sweat-slick skin, seals a promise sharper than any paper. Veronica looks up, mouth shiny, and grins like a secret kept safe. Mackenzie drags her up, kisses that grin away. They cling, legs tangled, fear burned off by the same hunger that keeps their bodies moving against each other until morning blurs the edges of night.