Darker London-Uncover what is underneath...

Stephie had spent the drive back to Toronto arguing happily with Lars about movies and seeing how long she could hold her hand out the window before the cold became unbearable. Her record was eight minutes, and it took about that long for her to defrost her fingers under her arm before she could try again. Lars dropped her off at the airport, and, buzzing with nervous flying solo nerves, Stephie went to check in her luggage only to find that her plane was having issues and was going to take a while before it could get off the ground.

This wouldn't have been too bad if it wasn't trying to get off the ground in Russia, and would take god knows how long to even arrive in Toronto.
( Well, isn't this nice? )

'Unlock your door', Stephie sent Ry in a text from the corner of his street, 'im almost there.'

It was a warm night, full of wind, and she'd taken her time walking over. Her footsteps had been slow, not out of any need not to get there, but because her head was full of thoughs and dragging her feet gave her time to sort them out. Even though, by the time she sat down on his front step, (not wanting to knock incase she woke the other housemates- Ry would be down soon enough anyway) her head still wasn't any clearer.

( Gettin' high )

Stephie had parked herself in her favourite tunnel, back against one side and feet pressed against the other, resting her head on her knees. She was watching the road on the far side of the skate park in the hope that she'd see Ry coming.

Ry.

She had no idea what she was going to say, so she watched the night instead. The wet concrete smeared orange and white as the streetlights reflected down on them; the dark shapes of the ramps sitting quietly against the night; the swings creaking slowly back an forth as the wind played with them. There was a constant trickle of traffic on the road, but the streach of park seemed longer, tonight, and the roar of the vehicles seemed distant. It was still only a quarter to eight, but she hadn't been able to wait around inside. Anticipation. Anxiety. Maybe a bit of fear.

God, what was she going to do if he didn't want her anymore? She couldn't really blame him- oh who was she kidding, she'd find a way to blame him. Her brain was too good at that.

She heard footsteps on the grass and her stomach turned over, she had to make a conscious effort to stop her heart making a break for it out her throat. She should not be this nervous! He was only a boy, for godssake! Except he wasn't.

What was she going to say?
( The words )