Touché.

When I arrived here, I wasn’t above begging. But now that I was in front of him, at Vicious’s house, an overwhelming need to protect myself took over again. I couldn’t ask him what his game was yesterday when we were at his mother’s office.

“So, you’re all packed for Texas?” I changed the subject. He’s moving away to college, I reminded myself. This is over.

He laughed, pushing himself upward and rising from the pool. His sculpted body shone under the sun, making him look like a Calvin Klein ad. He stood next to me, so close the scent of chlorine wafted into my nostrils.

“Not yet.” He took a step in my direction. I stumbled back. He took another step closer, ignoring me.

“I need to buy another suitcase.” His hand disappeared inside my curls. This time I leaned into his touch. Such a loser. Already a goner again.

“I thought men traveled light.” I swallowed.

“We do, but I’m sure you’ll be taking all kinds of girly shit with you when you move in with me.”

Dumbfounded, I narrowed my eyes at him, fighting a grin.

“Jaime,” I warned. From what, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want it to be a prank. I realized as soon as he said the words that I wanted exactly what he’d just said. A lot. A new beginning. Away from All Saints High. With him.

It didn’t make sense. It was wrong. It was going to lift a shit-ton of eyebrows. A college kid moving to another state with his twenty-six-year-old teacher? It had disaster written all over it. But I wanted this disaster. I wanted to bathe in it and love it and live it. To make this disaster my chaotic reality.

“Mel,” he answered, smiling. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.” I bit my lower lip, peeking at him from under my lashes. If Vicious saw this, he would have probably puked.

My breaths were coming in shallow pants. My heart was in my throat. I hadn’t felt this alive since the last time I was on stage. I was going to say it, and fuck the world and what it’d think about me.

I placed my hands on top of his, still nestled in my hair, holding me still. “The truth is…I love you.”

There was a hint of a satisfied smile, but it was quick. Like I was still in trouble. I felt like the scolded student.

He nodded, his wet hair dripping on my face as he hooked an arm around my neck and jerked me into his face. “See? Was that so hard? Still in one piece, aren’t you, baby girl?” He raised an eyebrow at me in a smart-ass expression, and it was sexy as fuck. “I love you, too, Mel. Fucking crazy about you, actually. Now pack up.” He bit my lip playfully, smacking my ass at the exact same time.

“Excuse me?” I laughed. “What? Where? How? When? School’s not even over yet.”

There were four more days left of school. And I still hadn’t said yes to moving to a whole other state with him.

“Yeah, but you have a job interview at a ballet academy in Austin tomorrow. Don’t wanna be late, yeah? Bad first impression and all.”

Jaime knew. He knew I pocketed this dream in the back of my jeans, but still danced every day in front of the mirror. That I carried it in my heart like a little souvenir, and that I wanted the memory to become something real, now more than ever.

Just then, a horn honked in the distance, and I heard Vicious grit behind his fancy Mercedes steering wheel. “Tell her to move her ass, or I’m sending you both to the airport in a cab.”

These high school kids.

They had planned it all along.

They outsmarted Mrs. Followhill and me.

I laughed, collapsing into my boyfriend’s arms. “Damn you.”

Two years later…

“YOU FORGOT THE MILK.”

“You forgot your underwear.”

I frown, pushing down my black tights. “I’m wearing underwear.”

“Exactly.” Jaime pushes me to bed in one effortless movement.

I collapse onto our flimsy mattress. He follows, crushing on top of me, covering my face and neck with wet, hot kisses. Breathless giggles escape my mouth while his fingers push my tights away.

“I’ll buy some on my way back from my shift,” Jaime growls into my ribcage.

My shirt is already tossed aside, and he is sucking on my nipple so hard my skull prickles in pleasure. I sigh and rake my fingers through his tousled blond hair. He’s been taking shifts at a local Starbucks after class. His parents cut him off after we announced we were moving in together. Tough luck. With my work at the ballet academy, his school and Starbucks job, and everything else on our plate, we have very little time to give two shits about what other people think or say.

“Can you get some fruit as well? We’re out of bananas.”

“There’s one banana you can eat whenever you want, and it’s right here.” He takes my hand, guiding it to his cock.

I roll my eyes. Yup, still a typical twenty-year-old. I’m twenty-eight now, and you’d think I’d be obsessing over marriage and babies. But I’m not. All I think about is him. How it worked out so fabulously. It’s our beautiful chaos, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I might take a bite later,” I tease.

He winces. “Fine, I’ll get you your stupid fruit, woman.”

His tongue travels down from my stomach to my now bare pussy, and he halts, his nose rubbing circles against my clit. “Oh, I think you have something here. Like a scratch or a spot or something.” His hand dives between my legs, and when it rises back up, there’s a small black velvet box in his hand.

I stop breathing altogether.

He licks his lips, offering a lazy smile. “I probably should warn you, it’s not an engagement ring. I’m waiting to turn twenty-one so the trust fund my grandparents have under my name will kick in. I’ll be richer and Starbucks-free. You deserve something incredible. But in the meantime, here’s something to make you remember your high school fling from two years ago.”

With shaky fingers, I open the velvet box and inside rests a necklace. With a charm. A golden anchor. This anchor symbolizing so many things.

The burnt yacht that ripped us apart.

The necklace that brought us back together.

The missing piece I left behind.

My eyes glide up, piercing him with uncontained love. I’m so in love. So completely out-of-my-mind crazy about this boy who grew up to be a man and has given up so many things to be with me. College party life. Football. Things that were his very essence of being two years ago.

“Help me?” I motion with the necklace between my fingers.

He grunts at my request for him to unglue his tongue from my inner thigh, but rises to face me. Taking the necklace from my hand, he brushes my hair aside.

“Truth or dare?” he asks out of nowhere.

“Truth. Brave people always choose the truth.” I grin.

“Is it true that you’ll always be mine?” He lowers his mouth to my ear, his warm breath tickling my skin.

“It’s a truth. And sometimes, when you piss me off, it’s a dare. But it’s my life, and you’re a part of it. Always and forever,” I say.

“Always and forever,” he repeats, and I hold on to my anchor, squeezing it—and my real-life anchor—hard.

The angst. The fear. The part where I let myself go and fall in love with who should’ve been the wrong person but who turned out to be right, so right…it’s all behind us now.

In the end, it was worth it. Every small piece of who made us who we are today.

Stronger.

Happier.

Wholer.

Six Years Later…

Jaime

“Why the anchor?”

I probably should have asked that eight years ago, when we first met, but I just couldn’t bring myself to it. I considered it pillow talk, and I was feeling pretty fucking frightened as it was about stalking my Lit teacher.

I’m watching my wife, Melody Followhill, intently, as she rests her feet on top of the coffee table while leaning back on our new couch. The sofa and the table are the only pieces of furniture in our new Kensington apartment—or ‘flat’, as they call it here in London. I said I’d take her to Europe, and I did. The fact I knocked her up here is just a bonus.

You’re welcome, Mel.

“Why the anchor?” she parrots me, grinning as she rubs her thirty-six-week belly, staring at it lovingly as if she can already see our newborn daughter. “Because sometimes, it’s nice to feel like there’s someone who can save you.”

“Who gave you that necklace?” I shoot. The urgency of my questions startles me. I’ve lasted eight years without asking her that, and suddenly, that’s all I want to know about. Melody leans into me, placing her head on my chest. I brush her brown hair from her face and kiss her temple. When she talks, warmth fills my chest.

“I bought it for myself. I was at JFK airport, just about to board the plane back to California after breaking my leg. I wanted something to believe in. More like – someone to believe in. I had no one. My parents were supportive and sad for me, but they didn’t understand. Not really. My friends were scattered all around the country, chasing their own college dreams, creating new, sweet memories. And there I was. Alone. I needed someone. I saw this necklace at a store. I don’t even remember the name. They sold hoodies saying “I Love New York” for ridiculous prices. It cost me a lot, but I remember thinking to myself – I need this. I’m going to get this.”

I look down, staring at her eyes, and I’m amazed. Amazed that this woman is mine. After all we’ve been through—and maybe precisely because of that.

She is funny and strong. So fucking talented, sarcastic and smart. But at the same time, she is real. And vulnerable. And mine. God, damn, so fucking mine.

“You don’t need it anymore.” I finger the anchor necklace I gave her when I was in college. “You have me.”

“I need both,” she smiles, kissing my pecs through my shirt.

She is wrong.

She doesn’t need anybody.