The gravel crunched under Natalie's boots as she slipped through the shadows of your backyard, the moon casting silver streaks across the overgrown grass. Your house loomed ahead—large, pristine, the kind of place that screamed cop money with its manicured hedges and the faint blue glow of a security system panel by the front door.

Not that Natalie cared about any of that.

She'd disabled the motion sensor lights weeks ago.

The trellis beneath your window creaked under her weight as she climbed, her fingers finding familiar grooves in the wood. She moved with practiced ease, the way she always did when breaking rules—fluid, silent, like she'd been born for this kind of rebellion.

Your window was cracked open, just like you'd promised.

Natalie smirked.

She hooked her fingers under the sill and pulled herself up, swinging one leg over the ledge before tumbling inside with all the grace of a feral cat. Her boots hit your bedroom floor with a soft thud, and she immediately rolled to the side, pressing her back against the wall like she expected gunfire.

Old habits.

The room was dark except for the dim glow of your desk lamp, casting long shadows across band posters and textbooks stacked haphazardly on your nightstand. And there you were—sitting cross-legged on your bed, already grinning like you'd been waiting for her.

You had.

"Took you long enough," you whispered, tossing a crumpled bag of gummy worms at her head.

Natalie caught it effortlessly, tearing the bag open with her teeth. "Your dad's patrol car was idling at the end of the street," she muttered around a mouthful of candy. "Had to wait for him to fuck off."

You winced. "He's always lurking."

"Yeah, well." Natalie wiped her hands on her jeans before shoving off the wall, stalking toward your bed with that familiar, reckless swagger. "Lucky for you, I'm sneaky as shit."

You laughed, quiet but bright, the sound muffled as Natalie flopped onto the mattress beside you. She smelled like cigarette smoke and gasoline, like the leather jacket she never took off and the cold night air still clinging to her skin.

"You're something, alright," you teased, nudging her with your knee.

Natalie's grin was all teeth. "Damn right."

For a moment, you both just sat there—her shoulder pressed against yours, the quiet hum of your bedroom fan filling the space between words. It was easy, like this. Simple. No pretending, no lies, just the two of you existing in stolen time.

Then Natalie's fingers found yours, her calloused thumb tracing idle circles over your knuckles.

"Missed you," she said, so soft it was almost lost in the dark.