My breath comes in quick bursts, with each one forming a little white cloud just past my parted lips. It's dark and very cold and I can already smell the wet dirt. The silence is eerie as we ascend the steep hill and cross the narrow street.
A fence comes into view and a premature chill runs down my spine. "Just be very quiet. Getting caught would be bad." You murmer into my ear, your warm breath heating my chilled skin. You look around a bit, visibly nervous, before finally announcing that the coast is clear and we aren't going to be caught. You step around me on your long legs, and carefully pull the slightly rotted fence aside for me.
I shake my head vigorously. Too afraid to enter alone, I wait to follow your lead. Once you have stepped in, you take my hand and lead me in after you. Just as my feet meet the damp, leaf scattered ground, headlights appear in the distance. You close the gate and we duck behind it, our hearts thumping our throats as we wait agnoizingly for it to pass.
Finally, with my heartbeat still the speed of lightning, we extend back up to our full heights and examine the scene around us. A thin veil of fog covers the ground, hovering above the soaked earth by just a few inches. It is interrupted only by the occassional rectangular monuments of stone, rising from the ground in a ring of fog. Just over the horizon sits the town, lit with Christmas lights. It looks so cheery down there that for a moment, I feel a longing to head back downtown and pretend this never happened.
But never one to be a chicken like I, you simply squeezed my hand like you were transferring some of your courage to me. "Best view in town," you announced on a single breath, admiring the valley below us. Sensing my worry, you cast your eyes around our direct surroundings once more. "Come on, there's a bench over there. I think you might feel better."
I bite my lip as you guide me down a path you have long memorized. "Do you realize how creepy it is that you know this place by heart?"
You laugh that glorious laugh that puts me a little more at ease. "My mom brought me us here about a week ago...". My eyes widen and you laugh again. "Not for that reason! She thought it would be fun. And it is, don't you think?" We reach the bench, which I quickly check to make sure is in fact a bench and not another of the stone markers, and sit down. You place your hand, which is miraculously still warm, on my cheek.
"It's certainly different..." I reply cautiously, trying to keep my eyes affixed on the town below us.
"You're freaked out, aren't you?"
"Terrified," I answer honestly, casting a nervous glance at all the graves. Although the ground hasn't been broken in nearly a century, I'm still scared stiff.
"Come on then," you say, "let's go back."
I kiss you suddenly, without warning. "There," I say, pulling back. "Now we've had that famously cliche experience of kissing in a graveyard as teenagers. Someday, you're going to tell your kids about that and I want you to fondly look back and remember the night we had the very best view in town. Deal?"
"Deal." You say, kissing me again.