Bright Midnight

Maybe it’s because Anders is foreign and has that ridiculously sexy accent, and that gorgeous slim body, and those wonderful words he purrs into my ears.

You taste like stardust.

I have heaven in my hands.

You’re going to feel me even when I’m gone.

See what I mean about imprinting?

I’m sure his words are cheesy to some, maybe. But not the way he says it. Not with those intense eyes of his, the ones that rip through me, that taunt me with secrets I may never uncover about him. His words are him and I believe them with every part of me.

I want nothing more than to lose my virginity to Anders Johansen.

Some might even say I’m in love with him.

But how terribly tragic it is to be in love, especially when it’s your first. Because that can never work out. People don’t marry their high school sweethearts anymore, and if they do and they make it work, I’m sure they’re one of the lucky few. I’m a realist. I know what the world gives us. I know that if you fall in love once, you should be prepared to fall in love over and over again. With as many different people as possible. Because how do you know it’s love if you have nothing to compare it to?

But that’s why it’s so scary and why currently, as I sit in my bedroom, stacks of magazines in my feet, freshly painted toenails, I refuse to entertain the topic. I’m all about sex instead. Sex is easier to handle. I think. I hope. Because what if you fall in love, lose the guy and then later on in life, many loves later, you realize that first love was the only one to really stick.

Then what?

That can’t be me.

I refuse to fall in love with my boyfriend.

But mark my words, I will sleep him before the week is through.

7

Shay

Now

I can’t sleep.

I toss and turn, my blankets wrapping around me to the point of near strangulation.

Ever since I checked-in to my hotel, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Anders. Not even for a second. I don’t even bother updating my social media or texting back Everly like I should, or emailing my mom like she asked.

I just pace around my room or stare out the window at the river below, wishing I wasn’t so alone.

Wishing I had said yes.

Stubborn. I’m stubborn and stupid. In the dregs of my subconscious, I know I’d been hoping, praying, that I would run into Anders, as much as I was hoping I wouldn’t. Now that I did, it feels so…petty…just to leave it like I did.

Maybe it was fate, maybe it wasn’t—but something tells me whatever force placed him on my path meant for something more to happen. After all these years, all the things I imagined saying to him, none of them were said. There was no closure. Nothing was resolved. All my run-in with Anders did was remind me that I had a chance to finally talk to him, put the past behind me, dare I say, get over him, and I was too stubborn to even entertain his offer.

By the time three a.m. rolls around and I’m half-off the bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to the rain with a heavy, thumping heart, I know what I have to do.

It’s not over.

And with that in my head, I finally fall asleep.

When morning rolls around, the first thing I do, beside rubbing my bleary-eyes and wondering for a moment where the hell I am, is pick up my phone and get on Facebook. I hadn’t even thought to give him my number or ask for his last night, not even any way to stay in touch.

I go onto Everly’s page and scroll through her friends list (how the hell does she have so many?) and when I find Anders, I promptly add him as a friend.

I take a shower and get ready slowly, every two minutes I’m picking up my phone and checking to see if he’s accepted my friend request or not. I know I could send him a message, but it would just go to his “Other” folder on Facebook and I don’t know who remembers to check that. It’s usually full of unwanted sexual advances from men who want you to be their bride in exchange for holding some money for them.

When eleven a.m. rolls around, I know I’m shit out of luck. I have a half an hour to let the guesthouse know if I’m staying another night or I’m charged for it.

At 11:16, Anders accepts my friend request.

I pounce on it like an animal and fire him off a quick message, no time to think:

Hey, you know I was thinking I wouldn’t mind coming to Todalen after all. How do I get there?