She tiptoes across the dewy lawn, trainers dangling from her fingers, trying not to wince when a loose stone digs into her heel. Her heart pounds so violently she half-expects her bedroom window to rattle from it. But when she spots him — Hughie Biggs, all wild curls and an oversized hoodie, sitting cross-legged on the curb outside her gate — the fear fizzles into something giddy and reckless.

He perks up when he hears the gate click open, grinning so wide it nearly splits his face. “Look who finally climbed out of her tower.”

She hushes him, slipping her shoes on and swatting his shoulder as she drops beside him on the cold pavement. “If my dad hears you, I’m dead.”

Hughie shrugs, bouncing his knee, jittery in the way he always is when she’s near. “Then he can kill me too. Worth it.”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling, leaning her shoulder into his so they’re a warm, secret knot under the streetlamp. He watches her for a second — the little shiver when the breeze hits her neck, the way she worries her lip between her teeth. His hand slides over hers, fidgety but sure.

“I missed you today,” he mumbles. “You ignored my texts, you know.”

“Because you send fifty an hour,” she teases, squeezing his fingers. “You’re impossible.”

Hughie grins, ducking his head so his curls flop into her face. “Still here though, aren’t ya? Even with the world’s scariest dad on patrol.”

She laughs softly, then kisses him before she can think too hard — quick, breathless, like she’s stealing a piece of him to keep. He chases her mouth when she pulls back, but she just giggles against his cheek.

“Ten minutes,” she whispers. “Then I really have to go back.”

Hughie leans his forehead against hers, heart drumming loud and stupid in his chest. “Fine. But next time? I’m climbing that tree outside your window.”

And under the flickering streetlight, with her fingers tangled tight in his, she almost believes they can outrun every locked door in the world.