Yes, but Amy lost something too

After a few moments of silence, chirping of crickets aside, you let out a sigh. No shouting, no running footsteps, no rustling in the bushes behind you; it doesn't seem like your neighbor cared to pursue, if they even noticed you at all. Amy follows suit with a sigh, and you tense up with the reminder that you aren't out of the woods yet. The two of you are huddled together so closely in the small space that her head is all but between your breasts, and even if her eyes are fixed on the dark, dense foliage, she's panting right onto your bare skin, hard nipples tingling under the warm, moist air.

"Hey, you want to, uh, move a little?" you say quietly, fidgeting in place on the stone paving. Amy's eyes snap forward, and then widen when she sees you almost poking them out. She jolts backwards, banging her back into the grill and making a clang that freezes the two of you in place a moment more. When the silence passes again, the two of you sigh, again, and you finally cover yourself with the tattered remains of your bra clutched in one hand.

"Oh! I didn't mean to, uh, you know," Amy stutters, more flustered that you think you've seen her... pretty much ever, come to think of it. "Your bra- shit, I'm sorry."

"I-It's fine," you say, a little offput. Amy's supposed to be the confident one here, and if she starts losing it, you doubt you'll have the nerve to get through the rest of this alone. "Better than leaving evidence behind, right?" Amy nods, and leans out to look back at the bushes, but her brow furrows.

"Are you sure you got all of it?" she asks "There's something hanging off the branches..." You switch hands over your chest, holding up the shredded bra and giving it a look over; it's torn apart and unwearable, but you're pretty sure you have all of it. Amy looks past the grill, looking over her shoulder at the newest house you've snuck into the yard of, and risks leaning out farther to try and look at the shrubs. She doesn't see anything, but you see quite a bit: she opens her legs to keep her balance in her leaned-to-one-side crouch, and suddenly you have a clear look between her legs and know just which garment is hanging off the hedge. Amy's thong wasn't hiding much before, the smooth, now slightly shrub-scratched skin of her legs and thighs already on full display. But it was another thing altogether to suddenly see what it was covering: a thick but shaped tuft of hair, still slick from your swim, and just underneath, spread ever so slightly, barely visible in the dark of the night....

Your cheeks feel like they're on fire as you make yourself turn away. It wasn't like you hadn't seem Amy near-naked or more before; you'd changed in front of each other for classes, and she wasn't as shy in the showers as you were. She'd flash or moon people for a laugh every so often, yourself included, and all of the feelings you'd tried not to acknowledge during those moments are nothing to what you're feeling now, with this much closer, prolonged and, with the way your knees are still knocking against each other, intimate view. You swallow hard and cover your chest a little tighter before you reach out and pat Amy's shoulder.

"It's not mine," you tell Amy, "look down." As aforementioned, Amy isn't shy, but when she slides herself back into the hiding spot and looks down, and realizing the view she must have been giving you, darts her hands between her legs and presses her legs firmly back together.

"Ah, fuck," she mutters, before looking back up at you with an apologetic grin. "Well, at least we're even." You smirk a little bit, thankful that she probably can't tell how red your face is, before it gets a little redder as Amy moves fully out into the open, crouching as she walks back towards the bushes. "Watch my back," she tells you, and doesn't have to tell you twice; looking at her from behind wasn't too different with or without the thong, but that little extra bit of exposure (not to mention a hell of a lot of adrenaline) makes for a view happily burning into your memory. Amy takes a moment to try and disentangle her underwear from the branches, slow as she tries to avoid any rustling, and as she slowly returns with the fabric in hand, you can tell it would do her about as much good as your bra would you at this point.

"Okay," Amy starts, "this isn't great, but we can get back to your place easy."

"Easy?" you say, "we can't go back through there at this point! My neighbors are probably already suspicious. If we make more noise trying to go through the bushes, or move anything in their yard, or fuck up climbing the fence, or... or, whatever! If they aren't still just watching they'll be on us in a second if they hear anything again!" Amy sees you freaking out and puts a hand on your shoulder.

"We don't have to go back that way," she says.

"Wh-yes we do! We can't just go out on the street and walk home like normal!" Amy's expression changes; the same expression as when she talked you into this mess in the first place, though this time with a little less excitement and a little more sorriness. Her 'you aren't going to like this idea but I hope you do it with me anyway' expression. "Amy. We cannot, like this, go out onto the street and walk home like this."

"I mean, you've said before how shit the streetlights are around here," she says, "and it's not like we'd have to walk very far..." You imagined the route in your head; from the front of the house you were hiding behind, you would need to run past the house on the corner, along the slightly busier road at the end of this street, and past another couple houses (including the home with the pool you'd just been trespassing in so you could get into your own yard again. Technically not far, but in your current state it may as well be a marathon.

"Look," Amy says, reading the refusal on your face, "there no good way back to your place. Might as well make it quick, right? How often do you look outside this time of night, anyway? No one is gonna see us!" You aren't too sure about her reasoning, but you don't know if you have any better ideas...