“Leila,” I yelled as softly as I could. I barely had to wait five seconds before she opened the window and whispered down, “I’m coming!” With that, I ran to the field. Before I knew it, she had caught up with me. I let out a laugh. This was why I lived.
“Catch you later, slowpoke,” she yelled as she passed me, her black hair whipping behind her, tangling itself in the wind. She reached the old tree well before I. Soon, she had sat herself down at the bottom of the silver maple, waiting for me with a small smirk on her face. I reached her, panting, and sat down next to her.
Once we had settled, laying next to each other, gazing up at the stars, Leila asked, “What if there were no moon, Owen? Who would look down on us when the night was cold and bitter? Where would we reach light?”
I didn’t respond, because the way she asked made me think it was intended to be rhetorical.
The moon was crescent tonight. It shone down upon us as if it were taking care of us; watching over us. Leila was right.
I wanted to tell her what had happened today, but something seemed to be preventing me from doing so.
I just laid and watched. We sat there for hours, grass tickling our legs, the silence of the night interrupted by soft breathing and crickets.
Ever so softly, Leila leaned her head on my shoulders. I hesitated, but wrapped my arm around her. I could feel her warm smile. Was this what it was like? To love someone and have them love you in return?
“Owen?” Leila asked.
“Hm?” I replied.
“What would it be like to live among the stars?” she questioned, gazing up at the full black sky.
I looked into her glistening hazel eyes and said, “We already do.”