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With adorable grunts, Sylvie summited the ladder and reached for the handle. She was about to haul herself over when she suddenly dropped, slamming hard agains the tree. A loud snap echoed in the sticky breeze.
“Shit!” Sylvie screamed, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the handle like her life depended on it.
Lauren lunged forward, grabbing her by the arms. Using every muscle in her body, Lauren heaved Sylvie onto the platform.
Sylvie landed on top of Lauren as a string of curses painted the bare walls blue. Searching Sylvie as if looking for a missing limb, Lauren’s heart raced.
“Are you okay? What happened?”
Sylvie rolled on to her back, her leggings torn and her shirt dirty. “That’s going to leave a mark.” She held her side and grimaced.
“Do you think you broke something? Can you feel all your extremities?” Lauren tried to recall her first aid training, but the Girl Scouts had been a very long time ago. “Wiggle your fingers and toes.”
“Oh I definitely broke something,” Sylvie agreed, her eyes shut tight as she groaned. “The ladder.”
Scrambling to her feet, Lauren leaned over the side of the treehouse. Much to her horror, Sylvie was right.
The rope had snapped on one side, leaving the ladder dangling uselessly by the frayed thread on the other side. One of the top rungs had also split down the middle.
“It’s no problem. This is okay. It’s going to be okay. Yeah, this is fine. Totally fine.” Lauren knew it was wishful thinking even before the words came out of her mouth. “I can fix it.”
For several minutes, Lauren tried, and failed, to repair the ladder. After her hands turned raw, Lauren gave up and joined Sylvie who was sitting serenely under one of the open windows.
She was too still, as if she was on a meditative retreat instead of trapped in a stranger’s treehouse after trespassing. Her peaceful state was more than a little terrifying.
“How are you so calm?” Lauren asked as she sat next to her. “I would expect you to be freaking out and threatening to sue the city for letting anyone build a treehouse.” Lauren lowered her voice. “Did you hit your head? Do you have amnesia? Did you forget who you are?”
Sylvie opened her eyes but didn’t move her head from where she was resting it against the wall. “Maybe I’ve learned to accept that there are things I cannot control.”
Lauren’s eyes widened. “Who are you and what have you done with Sylvia Campos?”
Sylvie rolled her eyes. A sign that the real Sylvie was in there somewhere. “How long do you think we have until our absence is noticed?”
“Any minute now probably,” Lauren guessed as she looked at her sweat-covered smartwatch.
Sylvie lifted her head. “Well then, is this how you want to spend your time before we have to explain to everybody what we’re doing up here?”
As a slow grin curled on Lauren’s lips, she chose to focus on the promise in Sylvie’s tone instead of the truth that they were about to be found out. “What would you rather be doing?”
Sylvie rolled forward and onto her hands and knees. Lauren complied with her unspoken request and laid on her back as Sylvie climbed on top of her.
“Didn’t you hurt yourself?” Lauren asked seriously, recalling the long tear in her leggings.
“It’s just a scrape,” Sylvie whispered before kissing her. “Do you want to get to first base or not?”
Lauren slid her hands over Sylvie’s backside, pulling her in between her parted thighs. “Are you incapable of being sweet? Not even when we’re making out?”
Sylvie held herself up, hovering above Lauren’s lips. “Do you want me to be sweet?” she whispered, brushing her lips against Lauren’s mouth.
The sensation unleashed Lauren’s desire. “Nope.” She groaned as she pulled Sylvie’s hips closer, wishing she could feel her bare skin against hers. “I want you to be exactly who you are.”
Sylvie parted Lauren’s lips before kissing her so deeply, Lauren felt it in every inch of her body. It was a lit match tossed on a tower of kerosene soaked kindling.
Lauren rolled Sylvie onto her back, her lips on hers like she needed the connection to live.
With a rough yank, she pulled up Sylvie’s shirt. She indulged in Sylvie’s abs twitching under her touch as she traveled up her chest.
The phone in Lauren’s back pocket dinged. She didn’t even consider answering the text message.
