#both Eli and Evan could be switched here like they could easily take the others place because IT WAS THE SAME SHIT

[justaboymadeofhoneyandglass]

nahhh the parallels between emmeline/daphne/Nick and Evan/Eli/Icarus are going INSANEEEEE

@aesthetic-writer18 HDNSHAJAGRUWIW

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 62

~*~Emma~*~

I slapped at my phone until the alarm stopped. My head was exploding. Why did I think drinking champagne all day was a good idea? I guess it was better than being sober all day. Thankfully, there was Advil in my purse and a bottle of water on the nightstand. The alarm went off again. I grabbed my phone, silenced the alarm, and checked what I'd done. There were alarms set for every fifteen minutes. Must have hit snooze last time. At least I'd had the forethought to set my alarm early enough to pack. There was a little blinking light telling me I had a text.

Sebastian ~ Up early for a TV interview. Hope you're not feeling too bad. Enjoy your morning with the women.

Sebastian ~ If we miss each other have a safe flight.

Sebastian ~ Check Instagram

 Uh oh. Wonder what he posted. I touched the notification saying he'd posted and laughed. The mouse ears were so him. He looked adorable. The mocking expression on his face and the caption was perfect. From the many, many comments his fans agreed. I liked the post but went back to text to comment.

Emma ~ Funny, funny boy. And cute.

Emma ~ Head bursting. My own fault.

Emma ~ xoxo

 I showered, packed, got ready, and double-checked I had everything before dragging my bag downstairs. The house was quiet. I'd said my good-byes to Dad, Amy, and Katie last night. Mom came down as I was finishing my toast and fruit. She was dressed in scrubs and looked like her Advil hadn't kicked in yet. She went straight to the Keurig, "How's your head?"

I held up my coffee cup, "Caffeine and Advil have helped. You?"

"Why did we think that was a good idea?"

I laughed, "It was fun."

"You need to drink a lot of water before your flight."

"Will do." I grabbed us both a bottle of water out of the fridge.

In the car, mom called into work and did her typical morning meeting. I used to love going in to do rounds. Very Grey’s Anatomy. Not quite as fascinating as an adult. I used the time to post a couple of things on Instagram. Amy and I had mom take identical pictures yesterday and I posted them with dad’s bad joke about not being able to imagine what I'd look like with short hair. The first pick was me with long hair and if you swiped you got Amy with shorter hair. One more swipe gave you a picture of us both.

Chris Evans was the first comment, "You just gave Seb a heart attack."

I sent back, "Na, we had a FT date last night."

If Sebastian, Chris, and Chace were going to be commenting I needed to go through my followers and cull the people with which I didn't interact. By the look of follow requests, Amy must have given out my user name. Most were people from Saturday. That wasn't going to happen. Lauren was the only possible and I left her on the list. The others I declined. Even without the Three Musketeers, I wouldn’t have approved them.

The shelter had a real name, but if you knew where and what it was you referred to it as a home for lost girls. There was usually a wide range of ages, but they were all lost girls. Mom went to set up and I joined the other women in the common room. There was no time limit for staying and every time I came here it was a mix of old and new faces. Stacy, one of the therapists from my rehab facility, was now the director and she joined us ten minutes after I'd arrived. She called for everyone to gather and I joined in their morning group. So many women with so many stories just trying to make it through the nights. I was cautious with what I disclosed but easily gave feedback and comfort. When group was over mom started calling today's patients back. Others went off to start their day and I stayed with whoever was left. I spent a long time with a girl who couldn’t be much over eighteen. Her timid jumpiness told me she was new, her story fresh. I sat with her, Stacy, and two other residents until they convinced her to join them for some distraction.

Stacy studied my face, "You look happy. Things going well?"

There was always a check. She did groups when I was in rehab, so while I worked with her it wasn’t individual. I’m sure she knew more about me from treatment planning meetings than I’d shared with her. I had asked Trevor once what he shared and he said just the basics, but not details of my story.  "Very. Work, good volleyball team, life in general." I felt the smile forming.

"That's a boyfriend face if I’ve ever seen one."

"He’s pretty great." I glanced to the hall making sure my mom wasn't there. "Helped me get through this long weekend."

"I guess that means I won't be seeing you more often. You're very soothing. I could put you to good use."

I cringed, "Don't let mom hear you say that."

The fun thing about talking to Stacy in this setting is I get to know about her life too. We caught up like old friends until mom was ready to go.

"There's enough time to get a coffee. You could tell me more about you and Sebastian."

Seriously? I've been here four days. We're on the way to the airport. This is the last possible moment she could ask about us, about him. I am doubtful of the sincerity of her curiosity.

"Mom, I appreciate the olive branch, but no, I don't want to have coffee and talk about Sebastian."

She didn't look at me.

I felt a little bad. "Is there something going on with Amy I don't know about?"

Her face read panic when she looked over, "Why would you ask that?"

"Because you and dad are so, I don’t know, protective. She hasn't used since she got pregnant. She's a good mom. Work is good. Saturday was fun. She and Max are a thing. Since Christmastime, we’ve talked and texted more. She seems in a good place. I don’t get why I’m supposed to pretend my life sucks. Is there something you're not telling me?"

"No, she's doing well. Can you understand we want to keep it that way?"

"Of course, but is sheltering her like this necessary?" She started to say something and I held up my hand. "Let me finish. You're trying so hard to protect her you've hurt me. I’ve never felt less important than this visit. Completely discounted. Like you don't care about my life, my happiness."

"That's not true, but Amy..."

I interrupted, angry now, "No, mom. I tell you my feelings are hurt and I feel unimportant and instead of addressing me you say "but Amy." I don't brag about myself, but it seems like anything above my total failure is assumed to make her inferior. If that's true she needs a better therapist. Did you ever consider that your over-protectiveness tells her she's not capable? Just like when we were sixteen, what you see as best is the worst possible thing for me. You saw us as broken and damaged. When I didn't see myself that way you focused on Amy instead of putting aside your guilt and fear to figure out what I needed. I didn’t need pity or to be seen as half a person damaged by a tragedy. I needed to be seen as a strong whole person who had something bad happen. Twelve years later my experience is still less because I wasn't addicted to heroin. The rest was different but equally bad."

"I understand that, Emma. I'm proud of you. I don't know the reasons, why you soar and she struggles. Maybe part is on us. We were devasted and grieving. Amy's reaction made sense. Yours didn’t. You are not less important. Your happiness matters. You are stronger than Amy. It takes nothing from you to restrain what you talk about in front of her."

Right back where we started. "The only reason it doesn’t is that I won't let it."

The look on her face was relieved. Pleased. She misunderstood and I wasn't willing to clarify.

It does take something from me to diminish my happiness and hide my successes. It does take something away from me to have my parents not ask about me except for the last half hour of my visit or expect me to whisper in the corner. With the limited time I spend with my biological family, I could do as they ask. The problem isn't as much what they ask of me, as much as their complete unawareness or lack of concern about my feelings. As Eli, and probably Sebastian, would say, "they chose Amy."

I choose me.

The silence was uncomfortable, so I filled it talking about room switches at work and my ideas for changing my room’s theme. It's possible I was being childish by refusing to talk about Sebastian. I definitely felt like a child right now. A surly one.

At the airport, we hugged, exchanged I love yous, and she told me to tell Sebastian it was nice to meet him. I said I would. Might have been a lie.

In the baggage check line, I mulled over options. I wanted a friendly voice, but I wanted to leave this behind. Angie and I had texted several times a day as usual and she knew what was going on.

Emma ~ Heading toward security. Once I clear I could use a friendly voice.

Angie ~ You can keep me company while I fold laundry. Support or distraction?

Emma ~ Distraction

Angie ~ Oh good, I want to hear the story behind the mouse ears. He looked hot.

Emma ~ Will do!

 There was plenty of time before my flight since I’d opted out of coffee with mom. I headed to the food court area. The first thing I saw was a Savannah Candy Kitchen and bought enough pralines to share at school tomorrow. We had to have our rooms packed by Friday if we wanted the custodial staff to move us. Luckily, I kept everything in my cabinets in totes and bins, so that was done. I enjoyed taking things down and starting over. I’d throw on some music, dance, and sing my way through the day.

One bite of praline and my stomach started screaming. I’d had toast and fruit for breakfast to work through the hangover. That was gone. I’d forgotten there was a Varsity in Terminal C. Mmmm. Cheeseburger, some home-made fries, and a super thick orange shake. I could walk to the one at UGA from my Freshman dorm. I found a table in a corner and took a picture to make people jealous with later before calling Angie.

“Mind if I eat while we talk?”

“We take our phones to the bathroom and keep on FaceTime.”

“Good point.” Not like we didn’t go to the bathroom together. Seemed silly to hang up. “Sebastian told me I could watch him pee the other night.”

She laughed, “How did this come up in conversation?”

“We were discussing birthday sex and it took a turn into limits. Watching him pee is as far as he’ll go.” We both laughed.

“Perfectly acceptable limit.”

“Definitely.” I shoved a fry in my mouth and moaned my approval. “He can feel the strings of my IUD.”

“Eli can’t.”

“Does Eli have short fingers?”

“Do you have a short vagina?”  We laughed some more, both knowing we’d be checking out their fingers the next time we were together. “What’s the deal with the ears?”

“I signed an NDA yesterday. Sebastian felt bad about it. Disney was the only studio on the thing, so I sent him ears.” I shrugged and took a bite of my burger.

“That’s cute. Both of you. There’s something hot about Disney knowing he’s going to tell you secrets and making sure you can’t repeat them.”

I talked around a mouthful of hamburger, “I thought the same thing!”

We talked about nothing and everything until my flight was called. Sometime in there, Eli came home and we were on speakerphone for a while. They had a gig this weekend and I’d be in town. Sebastian and I hadn’t talked about plans yet. I’d think about plans after I had my hands on him. Literally. About an hour after.

Once we were high enough, I switched my phone on and connected to the plane's WiFi. I’d missed a text while I was talking to Eli and Angie.

Sebastian ~ Woo hoo, where are you?

Emma ~ 30,000 feet above Georgia.

Emma ~ I was talking to Angie and Eli and missed you. ☹

Sebastian ~ No sad face. I’m here. I miss you too.

Emma ~ Hi . . . what are you doing?

Sebastian ~ Finished with a lunch. Meeting/sightseeing trip soon. Pretty sure that means going to a bar.

Emma ~ Or strip club. Look, don’t touch.

Sebastian ~ Promise. Don’t think that’s the plan. What are you doing tonight?

Emma ~ Not a damn thing. Sitting in the quiet of my house.

Sebastian ~ Sounds peaceful. I’m afraid to ask how today went.

Emma ~ Shelter was great. Drive to airport not so much. Nothing worth whining about. I feel like I’ve done enough of that lately.

Sebastian ~ Not whining. I know you got this, but I liked being leaned on.

Emma ~ I liked you being there. Thank you again.

Sebastian ~ You’re welcome. Work tomorrow?

Emma ~ Yep, have to everything boxed up by Friday. Mallory and I are just switching rooms. I’ll be hosting lunches next year. Closer to the cafeteria. Closer to parking. Same view just the other side of the building.

Sebastian ~ Makes it easy. I’ll call you tomorrow. Not such a jam-packed day.

Emma ~ No worries. I see you in two days.

Sebastian ~ Going to kiss you so hard you’ll push me away.

Emma ~ Wouldn’t count on that, baby cakes.

Sebastian ~ Baby cakes . . . lol

Emma ~ Maybe one day I’ll pick one.

Sebastian ~ I enjoy the variety.

Emma ~ Very mood dependent

Sebastian ~ So asshole would be angry?

Emma ~ I’m far more creative than asshole.

Sebastian ~ I don’t doubt that. For now, Mr. Baby Cakes will do.

Emma ~ And you may address me as Princess Emeliana of Seattle. Dare you to scream that when you come.

Sebastian ~ Now I have to at least try. I’ll practice later.

Emma ~ Tease.

Sebastian ~ Only in the best way. I have to go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

Sebastian ~ I miss you, Em

Emma ~ Miss you too, Bastian

 I went back to Sebastian's Instagram account and did a quick scroll through the comments on his latest post. Even though I wasn't mentioned it was the first sign of me on his IG and I was curious. The closest anyone got was a question if they were his ears because they were Minnie ears. That was irrelevant. I picked them because they matched my bikini and he would notice. I didn't go back to the picture from brunch, but it did get me thinking. I had no strong feelings one way or another about being photographed with him. I’ve never been into the whole Instagram official or Facebook relationship thing. Don't even have Facebook. Even for a non-celebrity, I think social media is more about perception than truth. I am guilty of that too. Hell, even this weekend. I was not immune to liking the attention from friends when I posted something. The DM's after Chris' comment had been fun as shit. There was the group picture from the tournament, but if you didn’t know it was Sebastian wrapped around me, you'd never recognize Sebastian. Ok, a fan would.

Sebastian had said we'd talk about fans later. He’d mentioned they weren't always nice to his friends or girlfriends. I went looking and it didn't take long to find a blog that chronicled his dating history. I was both intrigued and frightened. I understand the public figure piece and fan culture. But being able to see all this about my boyfriend felt like I was looking through his phone gallery and text messages. Alternately, if everyone else knew why shouldn’t I? My solution was to avoid information on Sebastian's relationships as much as I could and stick to fan reactions. It wasn't really hard to do. Pretty quickly I realized Twitter was a hot mess. The ease with which people hit reply and said things I hoped they'd never say face to face was like a shark feeding frenzy. Comment sections on Instagram weren't quite as bad. It lacked the voraciousness. Something about the way comments were nested with replies instead of a never-ending thread seemed less frantic. I now understood what Sebastian had said about the fans tearing each other apart. So often what should have been a disagreement turned into personal attacks. That shit was awful. Comments about friends and girlfriends were the typical fan bullshit. Friends were using him, exploiting the relationship, sharing pictures he didn't want them to, and bragging. Girlfriends weren't good enough, not pretty enough, also using him, and baiting fans. Several of the comments were fake nice. I'm sure some of that was trying to get on the friend, girlfriend, or his good side. Still, the bulk was positive. The negative minority was vocal and vicious.

One of the more interesting offshoots were Sebastian's reactions. They were stretched over years and more toward the whole situation. There were comments he made about it being out of line, hurtful to him, and few where'd he'd lost it and basically told someone to back off. I enjoyed the video clips with him talking about the toxicity and his position that he (and everyone else) needed to live their lives to make themselves happy. The biggest criticism of him was him not making them stop or coming to the defense of his girlfriends. Not sure how he'd make anyone stop. I was sure his lack of publicly defending wasn't indicative of anything except a refusal to engage. He would have taken shit if he had. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. It was clear from our limited conversations on the topic, that he was unhappy with the idea of me being attacked. I wonder if the previous girlfriends were as upset by his assumed indifference as the fans were?

I caught the odd detail or a comment he'd made on an ex’s post. I kept scrolling. It was none of my business. Plus, I wasn't sure how I'd feel about seeing them. I felt a twitch of jealousy with what I had seen, but it was tempered with my belief that exes were exes for a reason. I think knowing too many details of those who came before could lead to comparisons and uncomfortable conversations. Wasn’t super excited to tell him about this, but I would.

As soon as we were given clearance to use our phones, I made a call, knowing it would go to voice mail. "Hey Trevor, it's Emma. Do you have some time for me? Nothing critical. I just got back from Georgia and wanted to talk. Talk to you soon."

I was almost home when Trevor called back, "I always have time for you, Emma."

I laughed, "Only because you like being able to say you've worked with someone for twelve years."

"Sort of. I'm invested. I like keeping up with you. Meet you at the office about five?"

It was almost four, "Perfect. Thank you, Trevor." That gave me time to unpack, start a load of laundry, and make a grocery list.

The office where Trevor and I met wasn't his. One of his friends had a private practice and we'd met there since I moved to Beacon. Before that, it was video sessions. It was after hours, so Trevor met me at the door and locked it behind me. We hugged briefly and I said, "Thank you for seeing me."

Trevor shook his head, "I'm glad you called." He held out his hand, directing me to the office.

"I hope I didn't screw up a parent's night out. I'll send Kristy a gift certificate to a spa. One with childcare. The baby is six months now?"

"Sara is five months. Want to see a picture?"

"Of course." I scoffed. He unlocked his phone and showed me. "She's beautiful, Trevor. I'm so happy for you. You guys will be great parents."

He smiled, "And how are yours?"

I shrugged with a grimace, "Same as always."

I spent the next who knows how long telling him the events and conversations of the last four days. We'd worked together long enough he knew my nonverbals and I knew to add in the words for my emotions. It saved a lot of time with him going back and making me “name my feelings”. When I finished with the car ride today, I took a deep breath and huffed it out.

Trevor said, "Wow."

I laughed. "I know. It was a lot."

"No." He shook his head, "I mean wow, you said all that to your mom. You should be proud of yourself. I'm proud of you. That couldn't have been easy."

"I'd already talked to Ed and Sebastian about everything before, so my thoughts were sorted. I don't feel bad about anything I said, but I'm not sure I'm right." This is why I’d called Trevor. I needed the objective voice of reason. "Am I wrong?"

"Your experience isn't right or wrong."

I just glared at him.

Trevor leaned forward, "You're not wrong. What happened this weekend isn't ok. It's not ok to ask you to hide your happiness. It’s not ok for them to not ask you about your life. It's not ok when you say your feelings are hurt and you feel unimportant for your mother, or anyone else, to tell you how you are wrong."

I wiped my eyes. I felt relief with the validation "Thank you."

He reached over and put a hand on my arm. "You know this, Emma."

"I do." I nodded. "It was just a lot and I needed someone objective." I laughed, "Although Ed told me I've made choices and there are consequences."

Trevor laughed, "He's not wrong, but I think he agrees with most of your choices. He'll tell you if he doesn’t."

"Definitely."

Trevor leaned back and tented his fingers, "Why now? None of this is new. You've gone along with being careful with what you tell Amy. You already limit time with your family because of all these same things. Why say enough now?"

I didn't even have to think. "Sebastian." I started to smile. Trevor started to smile "I’ve meet this man I'm excited about. I want to tell my family, my parents and sister, about him. We set up a video call so they could meet him. Mom was rude. Then they wanted to know nothing more until I was packed and in the car. Tempering my excitement about work and friends is one thing. Sebastian is another thing completely."

"What would you have told them?"

"What would I tell them or what would I tell you?"

Trevor thought about his answer. "Me."

I preferred that answer. I don't know what I would have told them. The answer was very different now than when I was on the plane to Georgia. "Sebastian is a good man. He is good to me... good for me. I love how we talk. I love how he owns his shit. I love how he supports me." It took me a minute to figure out the next bit because I knew Trevor would ask. "I think we crashed into each other and just went for it. But not sharing secrets all at once then regretting having said too much. As we talk and are part of each other’s lives stuff is coming out naturally."

"As you trust more you reveal more. Both of you." Trevor summed that up nicely and I nodded in agreement. "What have you told him?"

"Enough. A lot. Not everything. He doesn't know how I met Ed. He doesn't know all the reasons we went to rehab. There's a chunk of time he doesn't know about." I smiled.

"You gonna tell him?"

I was surprised by how the question hit me. "I never told Jimmy."

Trevor made a face and tilted his head back and forth. "It was fresher. You were both awfully young. You're much more accepting of what you did than you were then." He squinted his eyes and studied me, "You're uncomfortable."

It was a statement, not a question. "I feel ashamed of myself." I chewed on my lip. "We've talked about how relationships are about being brave enough to be vulnerable with another person. We've done both and we've talked about it what that’s been like." I rubbed my finger over where I'd bit too hard. "I'm not brave enough to be that vulnerable."

"Oh, I think you are. You're scared, but you are brave enough. The night we met I was in awe of your bravery. That opinion hasn't changed. I'm not saying you should leave here and tell him everything. But since you feel ashamed you might want to think about talking to him before that shame gets in the way. What are you afraid of?"

"Sebastian will be upset. He has a big heart. He'll be anxious if I'm ok. He’ll think too much."

"Sure. When we learn someone we love has been through something traumatic it's normal to be upset and concerned about them. It’s a good thing.” He paused, looked at me, and spoke again, “What are you afraid of, Emma?"

I was angry at Trevor for not the first time. He makes me look at things I don't want to. I know it’s his job, I count on him to do it, but it pisses me off. "If he knows what I did... the things I had to learn to accept... the things I still struggle with... I like the way he looks at me like I’m good and precious. I'm afraid he'll see me differently." Took no time for the tears to fall.

Trevor said nothing for what felt like an hour, letting me sit in the emotion. When he spoke it was his quiet soothing voice. I used to get mad at his comforting tone too, like I didn’t deserve it, but I know better now. "Seeing you differently doesn't have to be negative. You've not told enough people to be confident it that. Who have you told?"

Trevor knew the answer. He wanted to remind me I knew it too. "Angie and Eli know most everything. Ed knows it all. And you."

"Did any of us react negatively?" I shook my head no. "They were upset. They empathized with you. But it didn't change how they loved you. It made them love you more. Your fear isn't in line with reality. There's no reason. . ." He stopped and took a breath. "Do you love him, Emma?"

"Yes."

"Have you told him?"

"No, I haven't seen him yet."

"Has he told you he loves you?"

"No."

"Does he?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Completely."

"So if everyone you’ve told loved you more there is no reason to think Sebastian would be any different.”

We sat quietly until my tears gave way to a loud cathartic laugh. "You are good."

"Thanks." He blew on his nails and shined them on his shirt.

"How did you do that? Seriously, how?"

Sometimes he'd tell me how he did his therapy magic. Luckily, today was one of those days. "There was something not fitting. Sebastian wasn’t fitting with the others for you. You didn't look at me when I said they'd loved you more. I went on a hunch. You'd not said you loved him. So, I walked you through that so he fit where you could see him as love plus story equals more love."

"Fascinating"

"I know you’re not ready to go public with your story, but I hope someday you will. You could make such a difference in so many lives. I know you channel that into teaching, but if you ever change your mind your story and successes will matter. Just keep it in mind."

"I will." We were winding down. "Do you want to see Sebastian?"

"Yes."

"He's not as cute as your Sara, but he'll do for me." I handed him my phone.

Trevor looked at my phone, then me, then the phone again. "Holy shit, Emma."

"You know him?"

"I am huge Marvel comic nerd. There's stuff in my office. You didn’t notice?"

"I’m not a Marvel nerd. Well, now, sort of."

He laughed, "I got to do family therapy with the lead singer of Pearl Jam. Now I'll get to do couples therapy with the Winter Soldier."

I stretched out my leg and kicked him in the shin, "We do not need couples therapy. We each have our own therapist."

We laughed for a nice long while before Trevor tied everything up. "I'm glad you called to get the validation you needed and to at least look at adding someone to the list of who can support you. I was with you when you told Ed. If you need me to be there if you decide to tell Sebastian I will be. You are correct in thinking the men you love most will struggle most."

I nodded, "I'll think about it. Thank you."

"Thank you for the most successful and challenging session I've had in weeks."

“Glad I could amuse you.”

[revisionaryhistory]

Three Days ~ 4

AO3

~*~Emma~*~

What in the hell is he doing with his tongue? He's licking his lips and flipping it around. Is he trying to drive me crazy? I'm not sure he even realizes what he's doing. Its like a nervous habit or he's thinking. Either option is sexy as fuck.

I'd wondered how and when the subject of him being The Winter Soldier would come up. It had to eventually. Like I'd said it's difficult to get to know him without hearing about his friends. It just so happens that his friends are famous people and super heroes.

I could make this easier. I could tell him a story to let him know I'm not starstruck or looking to attach myself to a celebrity. But that would open up a conversation I'm not ready to have and, frankly, he's not earned. Yet.

After I said to talk about his friends, Sebastian told me stories of dinners in Atlanta, nights out, and practical jokes galore. He used nicknames and told me about the people. I wasn't learning about a bunch of actors. I was learning about Evans, Mackie, Chace, Will, and Scarlett among others.

I must have had a look on my face because he stopped, "What?"

It took a second for me to track back to what I was thinking. "Just because I can match names with faces doesn't mean I know the people. Thank you for telling me about the people."

He smiled and his blue blue eyes lit up. It was like he was surprised he'd been talking so easily. He squeezed my hand and nodded once, "You're welcome."

Our dinner arrived and broke the moment. I'm glad. Like when the appetizer came and stopped the flirty comments. The interruptions kept us from going to far. A first date is like a dance. You flirt, you back away. You get into a deep conversation, then go back to a safer topic. Too much intensity and you run the risk of regretting what you shared in a moment. Out of control flirting just lands you in bed.

While we ate I took over telling stories about my friends. By the time they took our plates we'd built the foundation for future conversations about our days. I didn't doubt there would be those conversations.

We had to stop holding hands while we ate. Almost immediately I saw him shift and felt his leg brush mine and come to rest with his calf pressed against mine. With the plates gone, Sebastian reached across the table. I put my hand back in his and felt a frisson of energy travel up my arm. His hands made mine look tiny. Us holding hands wasn't a passive activity. We played with each other's fingers. Every so often we'd twine fingers and be still for a minute or two before the movement continued. Sebastian seemed especially fascinated by my finger nails. He’d run his fingers over the sides, push against the end, or almost pull on on them.

Another pair of beers arrived and conversation restarted. “You grew up in Georgia and now you're in New York. How'd that happen?”

I grimaced, “There's an ex in this story. You up for hearing the ex story?”

“If you're up to telling.”

“I went to the University of Georgia in Athens. About four hours away from home. First semester of my Junior year I took an elective in American Legal Foundations. Most of the class was taught by a second year law student named Jimmy.” I quirked an eyebrow to clue him in. He smiled. “He was handsome, smart, and very driven. We dated through graduation. Him law school and me undergrad. He got a job at a firm in New York City. I applied to NYU and started working on my Masters. You can work as a teacher in New York with your bachelors, but you have to have taken some prep classes, which I didn't have. So I worked as a server for the first year.”

Sebastian groaned, “I did too. I don't think I've ever been so tired in all my life. And is why I tip ridiculous amounts.”

I laughed, “I remember how bad my feet hurt.” He groaned with me. “It worked good with my school schedule. In the fall I got a job teaching Kindergarten. We had this one bedroom apartment in Brooklyn. I loved our neighborhood. There was always something going on. I got to be friends with this local musician and his wife. She taught first grade, which is how I learned I would prefer first grade. The next year I moved to first grade and we team taught. I thought I was set. A man I loved, job I loved, neighborhood I loved, friends I loved.” I paused to take a drink.

His thumb moving against my skin would have been soothing if I wasn't past all this. Still, it felt good. “This is where it falls apart.”

“Part of what I fell in love with was his drive. I didn't count on it turning on me. Somewhere he started to think I was less than him. He was better than me. His friends were better than mine. At his firm's Christmas party I noticed when he introduced me or if someone asked me about myself he would say “she's just a teacher”. We got into a huge fight that night. He hated my best friend and her wanna be rock star husband. My salary was always going to hold him back.” I smiled. “Hold him back. His phone rang and I saw the name of one of his coworkers. She was the one he'd been fucking for months.”

Sebastian hissed in a breath, “Ouch, sorry.”

“Ancient history now, but thanks. My parents wanted me to moved back.  I just couldn't, but I couldn't afford our apartment either. I searched around and found a long term sub position near here for a teacher on maternity leave. They didn't have a spot for me the next year, but I found a first grade position in another school. I've been here three years now.”

“Very different from Brooklyn.”

I laughed, “Very. I loved the city. I'm not telling you anything you don't know. The energy is different there. You can walk around doing nothing and have the best time. I go back and visit friends, especially if Eli has a gig and I can see Angie. Most people come up here to get away from the city. I go to the city to get away from the peace and quiet. Where do you live?”  

“Soho.” He looked uncomfortable. “When I first moved to the city I lived in the apartment with three other friends in a scary neighborhood right near the subway. Good times. Acting isn't a steady paycheck. I just bought a place last year. I put it off for a long time. Part of me kept expecting the work to dry up and be worried about making rent again. My manager had to practically forge my name on the mortgage. I shook for a good three days. Then it got fun. I liked decorating and picking out stuff. Everything was painted white when I moved in. I left most of it, but I painted a wall in my bedroom a blue gray. Evans told me I couldn't paint it black.” He shrugged, “I like black.”

“My kitchen is black.”

“Good girl.” He brought his beer to his lips and smiled, “So is mine.”

We talked about New York for a long time. Best places for people watching. Live music places. Hidden restaurants. Things we loved and things we hated. Somewhere in this I decided this was the best first date I'd ever had. Or maybe it was just him.

The place was crowded, noisy with conversation and the clinking of tableware. His attention was never pulled away from me. I felt like I was the only person in the place. If he had first date nerves they weren't showing. He seemed relaxed and natural, which made it easy for me to be relaxed and natural. Facial expressions showed interest and kept me talking. He became more animated as he told his own stories. It was like he focused all his energy on listening, but let it go when it was his turn. As we talked about New York we were talking over and around each other and reacting to things said. It didn't feel like a first date.

When that conversation died down he brought his other hand to the table and motioned for mine. He held both of mine and his face went serious. “Alright. You're stranded on an island.” I snorted a laugh. He shook his head and laughter filled his eyes, “Wait for it.” He huffed a breath and got back into character, “You're stranded on an island. All your needs are taken care of. There's shelter, food, water, indoor plumping. But . . . there's no internet. In the middle of main room, which has an amazing ocean view by the way, is a jukebox. It only has five songs. What are they and why?”

My eyes grew wide, “Only five!”

He sneered and nodded, “Only five. Better make them good ones. Who knows how long you’ll be there.”

“You're gonna tell me yours aren't you?”

“When you're done.” He stared at me while I was thinking. “Only five.”

“Shut up, I'm thinking.” The first three were easy. “Ok, first, foremost, and always is Black by Pearl Jam.”

He made a face, “Ooo, good choice.” He started singing. “I know someday you'll have a beautiful life. I know you'll be a star. In somebody else's sky. Why oh why can't it be mine.”

I had joined in after the first line and could feel the smile on my face. “That's the reason. The feeling and rip your heart out emotion is those lines.” I closed my eyes and thought back, “Seeing that live the first time when I was sixteen was incredible. Watching Eddie on stage with his eyes closed, pouring out the pain. Then it switches to that Doodoo-doo-doo-doodoodoo over and over, almost like a mantra or sitting in the corner rocking back and forth to comfort yourself.  Start a Fire, by Ryan Star. It's memories of falling in love or maybe falling in lust. It's got an intense part kind of like Black. Probably because he's a big Pearl Jam fan. It says things like taking chances in the back of your car, give in to the beat of your heart as my hand touches your skin, and wake up dreaming and lie here with me.” I was on a roll now and kept going. “Shatter Me. Lindsey Stirling is a violinist and the lead singer from Halestorm does vocals. It's about being afraid and wanting to feel alive again. Starts kinda soft with the soothing violin in the background then works up to a frenzy. The first line is “I piroutte in the dark” so as the music builds I just picture spinning faster and faster trying to break free from the fear. There's an old song by Jefferson Starship. At least I think they were still Jefferson Starship. Miracles. It's from the seventies and it's one the dirtiest song I've ever heard.  Not in the filthy I wanna fuck you like an animal way, but sexy dirty. Have you heard it?”

He scrunched up his face while he thought, “I think so. Something about if only you believed in miracles so would I. Is that right?” I nodded. “I don't recall the dirty part.”

“There's a short version they play on the radio that doesn't have it. It's almost at the end and says I got a taste of the real world when I went down on you.”

I watched a slow smirk form and his eyebrow quirk. “The seventies had lots of secret dirty parts. Afternoon Delight. That song by Donna Summer full of sex noises. When I went down on you isn't really hidden.” He held up a finger. “One more.”

“This one is new and I'm currently obsessed. Chances by the Backstreet Boys.” He snickered. I rolled my eyes and ignored him. I sang the first line, “What if I wouldn't have asked for your name and time wouldn't have stopped when you said it to me.” He just stared and I switched back to speaking, “It’s a simple love song about fate. All the what ifs that have to happen for two people to fall in love.” I shrugged. “Your turn.”

He threw his hands in the air, “I can't compete with yours! You've got all these intense songs about heartbreak, fear, love, and lust. I've got, I've got Jessie's Girl.”

I laughed at the way he threw up his hands, made faces, and collapsed back into his chair. His over the top level of exasperation was funny. “I like things that make me feel.”

Sebastian clapped his hands then rubbed them together, “I'm going to have to up my game.” He took a drink of his beer, shook out his arms, cracked his knuckles, and finally reached out and took my hand again.  “I'm going to stick with Rick Springfield's Jessie's Girl as my number one. Playing air guitar and singing into a hairbrush. Good times. I love eighties music so I'll add INXS. Love lots of their music, but if I have to pick one and conserve my choices I'll go with Disappear. Love song about how the right person can make all the problems disappear. And it's got a great beat you can dance to like Molly Ringwald in Breakfast Club.”

“I'd pay money to see that.”

“The night is still young. Umm, number three. Sound of Silence. The Disturbed version. A classic made over. Could have been Careless Whisper, but they messed up the rhythm of the best part. I like it because it's familiar, but completely new. There's this group out of Vegas called Adelita's Way. Invincible is this high energy rock song. Never fails to get me up at the gym. Incidentally, it was also a WWE theme song and that was my fall back if acting didn't work out.” He hummed again and closed his eyes. A second later he was doing that thing with his tongue again. Must be him thinking. “And lastly, anything by Tool.”

I shook my head, “Nope.”

“I didn't think I'd get away with it. So I'll go for Puscifer and Rev 22:20.”

“Thought you said Tool.”

“Puscifer is one of Maynard's side gigs. It's got a line that say if I've got to sin to see her again then I'm gonna lie lie lie. Straight up sacrilegious filthy sex music. Intense too, so you might like it.”

“Your going to use that against me forever, aren't you?”

He nodded, “But you've got Jessie's Girl.”