Daily Prompt: Cold of the night

She tripped as she tip-toed in the night. My hand rested upon her shoulder, we silently walked further into the darkness.
“Damn it! I can’t see a thing.” She whispered.
“Shhh, don’t wake your mom. You know she’s a crank after boozing.” She threw a quick elbow punch to my thigh. “Okay-y-y.” I wondered they never liked having any lights on in her house. Didn’t make any sense to me.

Sarah led me down the stairs toward the lounge. We planned to watch re-runs of South Park. Ah, the wonders of underage teenagers watching A-rated viewing material. Plus, there was bound to be some alcohol around we could scavenge.

When I felt around familiar spaces I prompted her to get the goods in the kitchen. “Any booze would be cool with me.” I said softly and spanked her buttocks playfully. I felt her smile through blackness. I know her smile. “Yes ma’am.” She replied cheerily.

The LED light from the TV set guided me as I fumbled for the remote control. Sarah opened the fridge, “Gosh, I don’t even know what drinks mix with what.” The light from the fridge was bright enough to help me gain some control in the TV room. “Shit, they cancelled it!” I shouted. “Shhhh!”, she said, “doesn’t matter. Let’s just drink and watch whatever.”

I switched the channel to the movie channels. “Awesome. Ghostbusters. Let’s do it.”

“Cool.” Sarah replied, as she took out glasses and started playing with the combinations she had before her. Jack Daniels, Johnny Walker, some Chivas. She poured a little of each and filled the glass with Lemonade.”Dirty, dirty drinks.” She said as she smirked. Come to think of it, I imagine her mother started off this way, just innocently mixing poison. We never thought of how we’d end up one day. All we knew is that it tasted alright, most times and we had great laughs all the time.

Sipping slowly Sarah paused. By this time I had wondered what was taking her so long. She was frozen, with tears trickling down her cheek. Her bright eyes were dull. But she was so damn beautiful. My hand cupped hers over the glass. She was shaking. “Sarah, I promise your dad’s coming back.” I know I shouldn’t make promise I know I can’t keep but she just needed to hear it. Her father had walked out on the family a few weeks back. “No he isn’t Delilah.” She wiped the tears with her free hand and combed through her dark brown curls. I moved the lightest of the curl from her face. I really wanted to kiss her. But I knew she’d be too vulnerable and fall easily into my lips. I needed to yearn to be with me, not for me to be a mistake she’d blame on the booze.

Her eyes looked to mine, eyelashes wet from the worries of yesterday and tomorrow. I tried to determine what today held in those eyes. She came in closer, and I could smell the liquor on her breath. I could smell the yearning in her, I think.

At this point I felt flustered but ever edging to taste her lips. I took a step towards her and cold air brushed from the fridge against my toes. She lifted her chin just enough for lips to touch hers. I squeezed her hand- not once forgetting the image of body in the light. She always looked so inviting in that white t-shirt and short yellow tights.

“Sarah?” a young boy called. “Delilah? I had a nightmare.”

I grabbed the glass from her and poured the contents down my throat. At least I got to taste the residue from her lips on the glass.

Trio No. 3

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