Pranking the Bad Boy

When I spotted him, he was sitting down gazing at the sunset, which was painting the sky lilac and orange. I swallowed nervously and made my way towards him.

About seven months ago Matt had showed me this place. It was on the outskirts of town, kind of a cross between a meadow and field. It had tall grass and sat on a ledge that overlooked the town. It was always warm and sunny and beautiful up here, with the sound of birds and the smell of fresh air.

Matt was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn’t even notice me come up behind him.

“Do you remember that night when we sat on top of your car and you asked me how you would tell Mystery Girl you liked her?” I asked without preamble, my voice slicing through the silence.

He jumped and spun around, staring up at me with wide eyes.

“What?” he asked, obviously too stunned to form a coherent sentence.

“I said, do you remember that night when we sat on top of your car and you asked me how you would tell Mystery Girl you liked her?” I repeated. In hindsight I realised all this time Mystery Girl was me, and that’s why he could never tell me.

“Grace? What are you doing here?” he asked, scrambling onto his feet and staring at me.

“Answer the question.”

He ran a hand through his hair and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Do you remember my answer?” I continued.

“You said that you should prove how much you love them by telling them in a way that means something to them,” he answered. “Grace, why are you doing this?”

“This is me telling you how much I love you,” I told him, pulling the acoustic guitar I had hidden from behind my back and beginning to strum on it.

He didn’t say anything - he never interrupted me while I was playing - just watched me as I started playing chords and singing.

When I was done, I put the guitar down and looked up at him. He reached out, took the guitar from my hand, and laid it gently beside us.

In a way, the song narrated how I was feeling. It was a cold wintry December night, and if I could go back, I would change everything. I would change myself, my reaction, and I would’ve told him to stay.

I went to say as much, but he shook his head. “Shut up and kiss me,” he murmured, cupping my face with both hands and leaning forward to press his lips to mine.

It wasn’t like our first kiss the other night. I didn’t stand there like a deer caught in headlights. This time, I kissed him back like there was no tomorrow. I twined my arms around his neck, and he gripped my waist, pulling me closer to him.

Something about kissing Matt just felt so… so right. He smelt warm and masculine and strong. His lips were tender but urgent. The kiss soon deepened and turned more passionate, and I could feel how much he loved me as our lips moved in perfect synchronization against each other. I breathed in his scent, tasted him, felt him, and it was like the sun breaking over the horizon. Like a blind man seeing for the first time.

Just then I felt something cold and wet hit my skin, and Matt and I pulled back to stare at the sky. It was a beautiful lavender color, but tiny, intricate snowflakes fell from the sky, falling all around us.

A carefree, blissful laugh left my lips as I watched them fall around us.

I turned back to Matt, blushing as I noticed how intently he had been watching me.

“I love you,” he whispered, moving closer to me.

“I love you, too,” I whispered back, pressing my lips to his and savouring the taste.

I had no idea how this moment could have gotten any more perfect.

All I knew was that I was happy just to be where I was now.

And that was enough.