July 5th
3:22AM

So I just returned home from sneaking out! Can you believe it? Can you believe I'd do something so reckless? I can't. But I did!

At school, I did nothing of the sort! I don't party! I have too much to risk losing. I only have one chance at my school. I just graduated, yes, but still many years to come ...

Could never do that at school.

Classes and Internships in the A.M., maybe see Eliza for lunch, and then shower, dinner while I do homework, and bed.

Oh, a day in the life of Willow Grace Potter. Sounds so exciting... Not!

Now I can't sleep.

It's storming and the wind is causing branches from trees to scrape across my window. Wet leaves slap the pane, along with the wind itself as it beats against the glass. The window is old and the glass creaks under the rough breeze.

A heavy rain falls from the menacing, dark clouds above. Big, fat droplets splattering against the foggy window.

I have a candle lit, its bright flame casting a small golden arc around myself as I carry it around my room. It's calming-- fitting for the scene before me.

What a long day. I'm so fatigued, but sleep evades me. 

I tiptoe to the tall, rich brown book shelf sitting opposite of the window. My father had given it to me on my 5th birthday when I showed interest in reading and writing-- it was from his childhood, also a gift. 

The plush carpet beneath my feet silences my movement and I gaze up at my collection of books. I can barely read the titles as my brain begins to buzz with thoughts of the previous day.

The party was a huge hit. The guests had plenty to drink [as did I] and the kids seemed to have fun running around my parents' oversized Mansion.

Okay, so it's not that big, but it's big enough.

I got to spend some time with Oliver, which was nice. He surprised me when he had said hi. It's been so long since I've seen him.

And I don't even think our mother noticed. At least not on her own.

I quickly descended the remaining stairs, jumping into his open arms at the bottom. He twirled me around once before setting me back on my feet, giving me a good once over.

"How are you?" I asked, the smile obvious on my lips.

"Good. Juilliard isn't as difficult as they said it would be." He grinned, his warm brown eyes lighting up.

I snickered, "You have it easy."

He ran a hand through his shaggy brown locks, "Guess that's what happens when you're a genius." He shrugged like it was no big deal, standing up. "Where's mom? Dad said..."

"You know?" I asked, feeling my eyes widen, "About-"

"About her being sick? Yeah." He interrupted, giving me a look that simply said, 'Are you dumb?'

I huffed a sigh of relief and rolled my eyes, "She's probably inside, entertaining-" I paused, "You know how she gets when she's been drinking."

"Fucking christ," he muttered, "Ever since we were six. I fucking remember." He averted his eyes and rubbed a hand on the back of his neck.

I hugged him again, the thought of telling him what else happened with our mother nagging the back of my brain. Still, I tried to push it aside. Wouldn't do any good getting Oliver all up in a tizzy with so many guests loitering around the house.

He squeezed me back, "Guess I should probably go find her."

I didn't answer him, just nodded as he disappeared into the sea of people.

***

3:47AM

Oh! I forgot to mention why I snuck out. Or, more appropriately, who I snuck out for.

Okay, now I know what you're thinking. I'm 23 years old, why am I "sneaking out"?

I suppose "sneaking out" is a totally incorrect term here. All I did was leave my house in the middle of the night- without telling anyone.

But hey, I'm 22. I can do as I please.

He called me early in the evening, right before we sat down for second dinner, actually.

'Second dinner' is something that my father and I came up with when I was younger. On holidays, after all of our guests had dispersed, we'd round up all the leftover foods and have a second helping of whatever was served. It came to be known as 'second dinner.'

Regardless of what leftover foods we had, we'd have a heaping pile on our plates. On Thanksgiving, it was mostly turkey and mashed potatoes. Christmas was usually small portions of ham with plenty of greens. Tonight, it was stacks of burgers and even potato chips.

Valentine's day was always my favorite. Since my parents were basically spokespeople for "true love" they threw a huge 'Lonely Hearts' party for all those that were, bluntly put, "less fortunate."

My mother thought she was doing everyone a favor. Ha. As long as there was a reason to guzzle down the wine, she would put something together, even last minute, and guzzle to her heart's content.

Don't get me wrong, I also thoroughly enjoyed the numerous bottles of different flavored wines she bought, but my favorite was always second dinner on V-Day.

I would pile my plate high with cookies, candies and chocolates, and all kinds of pastries. We had chocolate cake, cheese cake, banana-nut cake, pumpkin pie, cannolis- the list goes on.

Lucky for me, before my mother became "ill" [if that's what you wanna call it] she was a well-known baker; owner of a little store in town called 'Half Baked.'

Always had the best sweets.

He caught me at the perfect time. I was getting ready to wash my hands, the smell of the reheated burgers was filing in through the crack under the bathroom door and I licked my lips, anticipating.

My phone buzzed.

I looked down at it expecting it to be Eliza, my best -and only- friend, but was pleasantly surprised when I saw my phone glowing with the name 'Spencer'.

Swiping 'up' to answer, I gingerly pressed the receiver end to my ear, "Spencer, hi." I bit my lip, hoping I didn't sound too dorky or desperate.

"Hey Willow... are you okay?" he asked.

Confused, I responded, "Yes, great actually. Why do you ask?"

"You sounded like you were out of breath." His thick British accent met my ear and I swear I could feel the warmth of him next to me. His hot breath on my neck...

"Willow, are you there?" he asked again, louder.

My eyes snapped open, my name on his tongue pulling me from my reverie, "Yes, yes I'm here, sorry. That's peculiar," I said, my brain scrambling to come up with an excuse, "Dunno why. I was just getting ready to wash up for second dinner."

"Second dinner?" I could hear the smile in his voice. "Why don't you join me later? For a second dinner of our own, perhaps?"

I had no idea what he meant by "a second dinner of our own" but it excited me nonetheless.

***

He laughed, "Okay, so it's not as cool as second dinner, but it's still fun, yeah?"

We sat atop a small mountain overlooking a waterfall that descended deep into the forest below us. The full moon illuminated the dark sky and the dim stars couldn't even compare to the glowing moon.

A breeze ruffled my white hair and from the corner of my eye, I saw him staring in my direction.

"Yes?" I asked, looking up at him through my lashes.

"Something caught my eye." He smiled.

I think I blushed, and before I knew it, he was kissing me.

He held my face gently between his hands, his fingers moving up through my hair. He moaned into my mouth and I breathed him in, content in his arms.