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Chapter Eight: Annika

"So, we didn't kiss on our first date?" I am a little surprised that player Silas didn't try the kiss me on the first date.

"No. We didn't." We look out as the waves crash against the beach. I try not to overthink everything. I know that I will learn it all in time—his hand grips mine. "But we'll get there. I don't want to overwhelm you by telling you everything in one fell swoop." It's like he's in my head.

"I appreciate that." He lets go of my hand. He does that a lot, holding my hand, touching me. I like it, I think. He pulls out raspberry linzer cookies from the bag. They are my favorite cookies; of course, he knew that. "You thought of everything." He really does know everything about me.

"I made a playlist of your favorite music. Would you like to listen to it?"

"Yeah." He pulls out a small speaker and his phone, opening his music app. He clicks on a playlist named Annika. I take it from him, scrolling through the music. "You were quite thorough." This playlist has at least a hundred songs on it: some people I recognize, some I don't.

"It's almost a decade of your favorite music. It's a lot. I put the playlist on your phone as well."

We lay back on the blanket, watching the sky. The sounds of music and waves fill my ears.

The sky and world all look the same. Yet everything is so different, and that list keeps going.

What I've got so far is that...

I'm a 25-year-old woman.

I graduated from college.

I'm an author and an artist.

I make children happy with my stories.

I listen to good music.

I have a husband.

That husband is Silas. I'm very attracted to him... more so by the minute. My mind and heart aren't there yet, but my body wants him, it has muscle memory of him. I feel butterflies low in my abdomen whenever he is around.

I crave seeing the green of his eyes.

He isn't at all the same as I remember—a slightly older shell to a completely different interior.

I have frequent sex with him.

I have sex. I'm not a virgin.

This is so bazaar. So unreal. I never thought that anyone would except me the way I am, and he was right there my whole life. Facing all the same things I was.

We have been laying here for a long while. I look over at him every couple of songs. He smiles with his eyes closed, but I know he's not asleep. He lays with his arms up, resting his head on them. He catches me looking at him. We roll over onto our sides, facing each other. He tucks my hair behind my ear.

"Tell me about our second date."

"We ate lunch together in the cafeteria the next day; we actually ate our meals together every day after our first date." It's still day and bright outside, but it's dark under the shade of the trees. The tiki lights glow against the left side of his face. The gold flakes in his eyes twinkle and dance against the sun. "We went out on a 'date' two days later. We both got out by eleven on Tuesdays, so we went to the lighthouse after class. I raced you to the top and won." His baseball butt probably looked great running up all those steps. "We stayed at the top and talked for a long time. When we got back to campus, we ate grilled cheese and tomato soup."

"That all sounds so nice."

"It really was." He sits up. "Let's clean this up and get you home before it gets too late. I want you to see the house before it gets dark." I fold up the chairs that we didn't even end up using and gather the trash. He folds the blanket and gets the tiki lights, blowing them out as he collects them.

Once settled in the car driving home, I decided to ask, "did you kiss me? On our second date?" I have asked a few times. I should be more patient with the process. But I am just so curious about this. As attractive as he is, I can't quite picture kissing him yet. It still seems odd. I'm sure I will get over it quickly. I did before.

"I kissed you on Wednesday the next day." He says, interrupting my internal dialogue.