The highway feels like music, low, steady, and endless. The summer sun shining gold across the windshield as Stiles drives with one hand on the wheel and the other resting near Alisson's thigh. The windows are down, her hair dancing in the wind, laughter spilling through the open air like sunlight.
"You sure this place actually exists?" she asks, grinning.
"Of course. My uncle's cabin, middle of nowhere, zero cell service, possibly haunted. Perfect romantic escape."
"Haunted?" she raises an eyebrow. "That's your idea of romance?"
"Trust me, You'll love it," he smirks. "You get scared, I'll protect you."
"You mean you'll hide behind me like last time we watched a horror movie?"
"What.... Hey," he protests, glancing at her with seriousness. "That was strategic retreat, not fear."
"Sure," she laughs. "You literally screamed terrified."
"It was a manly scream."
She bursts into laughter, leaning back in the seat, and he can't help but look at her, sunlight catching the curve of her lips, her eyes reflecting her eye pupils grayish. For a moment, he forgets about the road, about everything except how easy it feels to be next to her.
They stop at a roadside diner just before sunset. The place looks like it's been there since the 60s, neon lights flickering, old tables in the corner, and a waitress who calls everyone "darlin'."
Stiles orders pancakes; Alisson gets fries and a milkshake.
"You're aware it's almost 8 p.m., right?" he teases.
"Breakfast is the only meal that never disappoints," she replies, dipping a fry into her shake.
"You're out of this world."
"And you love it."
"I tolerate it," he says, grinning. "Barely."
"Liar."
He doesn't argue because she's right.
They sit close in the booth, her knee brushing his under the table. The small touch sends a quiet current through him. She catches him looking and raises an eyebrow.
"What?" she asks, playful.
"You're doing that thing again."
"What thing?"
"Making everyone else in this diner disappear."
Her cheeks tint pink, but she hides it behind her milkshake. "You're such a flirt."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"It might be if you use that line on someone else."
"There's no 'someone else,'" he says, softly now. "Just you."
The sincerity in his voice catches her off guard. She looks down, smiling, trying to hide the warmth rising to her face.
The drive continues under the stars. They sing along to old songs, off-key and loud, until the cabin finally appears, a cozy wooden retreat by the lake, surrounded by pine and bamboo trees, the shallow sound of the lake, crickets and morr.
Alisson steps out, stretching. "It's… actually beautiful," she says.
"Told you."
"You also said it was haunted."
"Yeah, a witch was killed here years back and her soul still lingers all over".
"Are you kidding...." Asked Alisson
"Na..... Just pulling your legs..."
They both laughed at the joke, as she playfully throws a light punch at him. They head to pick their few bags.
"Adds to the charm," he says, carrying their bags.
Inside, the place smells old and like rain. There's a fireplace, a couch draped in a knitted blanket, and windows that open to the lake. The moonlight glimmers across the water.
Alisson sets her sketchbook on the table. "It's perfect," she whispers.
"You mean we're perfect," Stiles says from behind her.
"You're getting cocky again."
"I prefer confident."
"And I prefer humble."
He grins, stepping closer. "Then we're both out of luck."
He holds her by the waist and her arms went up his chest, subtle romantic music being heard at the background. They had a romantic moment together and wished it lasted forever.
They moved to the lake spending the evening on the dock, feet dangling in the cool water. Fireflies flicker nearby; the air smells like fresh summer.
"You ever wonder," Alisson says softly, "how long moments like this last?"
"As long as we let them," Stiles replies. "Most people rush through life taking things too fast. I'd rather stay stuck right here."
"You sound like you're writing again."
"Always am," he says, glancing at her. "You're kind of hard not to write about."
She rolls her eyes but can't hide her smile as she blushes. "You're making me blush."
"That's the goal." he said...
She splashes a little water at him. He laughs, dodging, then pulls her hand suddenly, sending her forward straight into his arms. Their laughter dies into quiet breathing, faces inches apart.
"You planned that," she murmurs.
"You think I'm that clever?"
"Yes."
"Then yeah. I planned it."
She giggles, then kisses him, a slow, gentle kiss that deepens until the night swallows them whole. When they pull apart, she leans her forehead against his.
"If this place is haunted," she whispers, "we're giving the ghosts a show."
"Then they should take notes," he murmurs, smiling.
They both giggled
Later, back inside, the fire crackles. Alisson sits curled up in his sweatshirt, legs tucked beneath her on the couch. He joins her, arm draped over her shoulders, the glow painting her face gold and soft.
"What are you thinking?" he asks.
"That I'm glad we didn't give up when things got dark," she says. "That I can finally breathe again."
"And me?" he teases. "Glad about me?"
"Maybe," she says with a small smile. "You're tolerable."
He laughs, leaning closer. "Just tolerable?"
"Okay," she admits, tracing a finger along his jaw. "A little more than tolerable."
"Define 'a little.'"
"Enough to make me want to kiss you again."
"Permission granted," he says, smiling.
The kiss that follows is slow, lingering, a perfect mixture of tenderness and want. It isn't rushed or wild; it's patient, full of quiet affection, like they've both finally found where they belong. The next moment, she takes off his shirt, he looks at jer and asks....
"Do you really want to do this?"
"Do you?" She replied
They continued ravishing both their body's, an intense moments.
Hours later, the fire fades to embers. They lie there, tangled beneath the blanket, the world beyond the window silent except for the sound of the lake brushing against the shore.
"Still think it's haunted?" he murmurs.
"Maybe," she whispers back. "But if it is, I think the ghosts are jealous."
He laughs softly, brushing her hair aside. "Good."
"Good?"
"Means we're doing something right."
The last thing she remembers before falling asleep is his heartbeat under her ear and the quiet certainty that, for once, tomorrow can wait.