The Distance Between Us

asks.
    I have no idea. “For sure.”
    It’s dark, but we manage to wrap toilet paper around the bars. When did being immature provide so much entertainment? It takes me a minute to realize I can see my task better and another minute to realize it’s because someone is shining a flashlight. The flashlight holder clears his throat. “Ladies. You enjoying yourselves?”
    “Yes, very much,” Skye says, and we both turn around to a security personnel of sorts giving us a disapproving stare.
    “How cute. It’s a rent-a-cop,” Skye says.
    He lowers his brows. “A rent-a-cop who knows the number for the police station. Let’s go have a word with Mr. Spence, shall we?”
    This news should’ve introduced some somberness into the evening but it doesn’t. Maybe because it didn’t seem real when we were standing there holding toilet paper in the dark. It seems a lot more real standing on Mr. Spence’s porch with him scrutinizing us. Then how come I still can’t stop laughing?
    “What would you like me to do, sir?” Rent-a-cop asks.
    Mr. Spence looks at me again and tilts his head. I wonder if he’ll remember having met me before. Why would he? I’m just a name he met weeks ago. So when he says, “Caymen? Right?” the smile is shocked from my face.
    I nod. Of course he remembers me. I am the symbol of his son’s rebellion. I am the last girl on earth Mr. Spence would approve of. My name and face are probably ingrained in his memory.
    “Are you pranking my son?”
    I nod again.
    He laughs. “I’ll be honest. None of my kids have ever been toilet-papered. Is that what it’s called?” He turns to the rent-a-cop. “We’re fine, Bruce.” Then back to us he says, “Why don’t you girls come in?”
    My chest tightens in panic as I look at the toilet paper rolls still gripped in my hands. “No. That’s okay. We’ll go now. If you loan me a trash bag we’ll even clean up the mess.”
    He waves off the suggestion. “No. We have grounds-keepers for that. And I insist. You must come inside.”
    “It’s late. We—”
    “Caymen?”
    Xander’s voice is like an instant heat wave. My cheeks go warm. He comes to the door wearing pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. Even his pajamas look expensive. He looks at the toilet paper in my hands and then over to Skye and her toilet paper.
    “It was a dare,” I blurt out. “We weren’t supposed to get caught.” Skye starts to giggle and I join her.
    His eyes twinkle with a held-in laugh. “Come in. Tess made hot chocolate earlier. I think there’s some left.”
    I’m not sure if I’m supposed to know who Tess is but I don’t ask. Holding toilet paper is enough humiliation for one night. “No, thanks. Really, we were just leaving.”
    “I insist,” he says.
    Skye gives a snort laugh and I’m pretty sure it’s because Xander just sounded exactly like his dad. I can tell she’s holding her tongue to let me decide how this is going to play out. I look between Xander and his father, who are both staring at me expectantly with the same crossed arms, the same tilt to their brows. Seeing such an obvious resemblance makes me wonder if I’m anything like my dad. I may look like my mom, but I’m nothing like her.
    “Fine. Just for a minute. It’s late. We honestly didn’t mean to intrude.”
     
    The kitchen is huge. Marble countertops in a neutral shade. A massive island. The fridge is bigger than any fridge I’ve ever seen in a house. It almost looks like a grocery store freezer section.
    His dad follows us into the kitchen. “Tess has actually left for the night, but I’m sure you kids can find your way around.”
    Tess must be the cook.
    “Good night. Alexander, don’t make it too late,” he says, then leaves.
    Xander goes to the stove, where a kettle sits, and picks it up. “Empty.”
    “We’re fine.”
    “No, I got this. I think there is the powder stuff somewhere around here.” He looks through cupboards. He’s obviously not going to stop until we are drinking hot chocolate, so I go to the stove and grab the kettle, fill it with water, and then stare at the knobs. Skye comes over to help me decipher them. After turning several and pushing a few buttons, we get one of the burners’ flames on.
    Xander is still searching for the hot chocolate. He looks like a stranger in his own kitchen, opening doors he obviously has no clue what’s behind. Finally he snatches the container out from behind a cupboard with a loud “Aha.”
    “Have you ever