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Anna

It took me two years to move on. Two years to get him out of my heart and mind and finally give someone else a chance. Two years of mending my broken heart and putting the pieces back differently.

I'm done being broken. It's time to heal.

Going out with someone new takes all of me. I'm not sure if this is a good idea. I tell myself I've moved on from the past; it shouldn't hold me back anymore. It's easier said than done, though. Because even as I get dressed and leave my apartment to meet my date, all I want to do is crawl back into bed and binge-watch YOU until I pass out.

Yet, I have to try.

His name is Nathan, he tells me, and I tell him it's a nerdy name. I lie; I kind of like that he's nerdy.

"You can call me Nate instead. That's what my friends call me," he says, smiling. 

I smile, trying to think of the best way to answer. I haven't been on a date in so long and have forgotten what it's like to actually socialize. Aside from a few of my friends, I barely talk to anyone. With college and work taking up most of my time -- and my fear of abandonment standing strong -- I keep to myself. I'm hoping I don't ruin my chance at actual intimacy again.

Nathan returns my smile.

He has a permanent smile on his face, and after the first few minutes, I've grown accustomed to it. And when he gets in line to get us popcorn and coke -- fulfilling his promise of unlimited free snacks -- I take a closer look at his attire. A loose grey hoodie and black jeans, his hair sticking out at odd angles, the freckles on his cheeks -- the boy is definitely cute.

No matter how many times I say it, a fact is a fact.

"So, what do we watch?" he asks me, his arms full of snacks as he peeks closely at the schedule on the wall.

I shrug. "Anything but romance?"

Licking his lips as if to stifle another laugh, he nods solemnly.

We end up watching some stupid action thriller that I picked over the other cheesy romance option. Though neither of us says it, we both regret my choice. 

"Next time, I pick the movie," Nathan a.k.a Nate says to me when we walk out of the movie even before it ends.

The chilly wind bites against my bare arms when we walk out of the cinema. We walk leisurely, side by side on the bustling sidewalk. The streets are bustling with young people, mostly out enjoying what seems to be the last dry Saturday to come in a while; the forecast for the next few weeks is rain, gloom, and an utter lack of sunshine. I like the Pittsburg weather, even more so that I can stay either in bed or in the cafe waiting tables while I chat with Christy behind the counter. It's better than dying of loneliness.

"So, what are you taking in college?" Nate asks.

I look ahead, my hands buried deep in my pockets. "Criminology," I answer.

"Criminology? Interesting choice," he says. "Any particular reason for studying such an unconventional subject?"

"Just liked it, I guess." I shrug. "I've always been fascinated by serial killers."

"Fascinated? You're kidding, right?" 

I shake my head.

"Wow." Nate nods. "You're not like the other girls, are you?"

I roll my eyes. "I hate that concept. Girls aren't a category. Besides, what does this even mean? Not like other girls?"

He laughs again. Why is he always laughing?

"Passionate about these things, I see."

I try not to smile and fail.

"I'm glad." He beams at me.

Aside from the fact that he laughs a lot and smiles like a clown all the time, I learn that Nathan has an uncanny interest in listing things. He likes being organized, is a clean-freak -- which I discover when he picks up a stray soda-can off the sidewalk and tosses into the trashcan -- and has a cool sense of humor. He also seems to like stray cats.

Guess we have quite a few things in common.

We talk a lot, just walking around. He tells me about himself, his family, and I tell him about college. I don't talk about my family or my past; I have nothing to tell him.

Other things I have learned about Nate are that he likes to swing his arms when he's nervous, nods a lot, and bites his lower lip to keep himself from smiling too much, and still fails. He also has a strange discomfort with silence, always breaking it and starting random conversations. He likes asking questions but luckily knows when to shut up. His questions are casual, and not too personal for a first date either. Oh, and he can't stop messing up his hair, and I end up grabbing his arm to stop him from doing that.

"Can you please just let it settle down?" I say. "You're going to be bald by the time you're thirty if you keep this up."

His eyes widen, either at my tone or the fact that I grabbed his arm without warning and shoved it back to his side. Thankfully, though, he doesn't comment.

Nate also likes to read in his spare time, enjoys playing video-games, is a huge star wars fan, imagines himself being sorted into Slytherin, and confesses to being addicted to coffee, especially if it contains caramel. He has also read the Fifty Shades books, which I discover when he stops outside my door while I unlock it.

"Do you not let anyone in there?" he asks me, indicating my precious apartment.

"I only take special people into my playroom," I say, watching his reaction closely.

A nervous laugh escapes his lips, and his hand twitches towards his hair. He resists it.

"You're really something, aren't you?" he comments, eyes boring into mine.

I don't answer right away, thinking over the night's endeavors. I wasn't sure of Nate when he asked me out after days of coming to the cafe and letting me serve him coffee after coffee. Christy thought he was nice. I have to agree, even though I think the reason she wants me to date him so I'd move on from Kyle already. I keep telling her I'm over him but she doesn't believe me. Apparently, the only sign of me moving on would be me dating again, at least to her.

"I'm not going to kiss you goodbye on a first date," I tell him.

A gaze is lowered, a laugh stifled, pink lips licked nervously before the twinkling gaze returns to my face. 

"Then I guess I'll just have to wait for the second date," he says, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. 

That's something I didn't expect.

He smiles. "I'd just love to take you out again. This is how it goes, right? Second dates follow first dates if the first dates work out okay. You'll know if you've dated before."

I shrug, avoiding Nate's gaze.

Is it that easy to see? That I haven't been on dates? I have no dating history, not because I've been single throughout but because I grew up with Kyle. He was my best friend, and by the time we were old enough to know the difference between friends and more, he was everything to me. We didn't need to date. We didn't need to try. We just were.

"Will you go on a second date with me, Anna?" Nate asks. "Saturday?"

His lopsided smile is more hot than nerdy, and I find myself wondering if his compliments are actually swaying my inner non-romantic. Why are we girls so weak when it comes to cute guys with sweet words? 

No. I cannot be that girl. I've been there, done that. Not again.

"Why are you so nice?" I ask, forgetting to keep up my mean-streak for a moment.

"You're nice too."

"You're wrong." I fold my arms across my chest.

He mimics my gesture, smiling. "No. People who judge by appearances are."

I try not to let his words get to me.

"I have work and school all week." I swerve the conversation away from the romantic turn it has taken against my will. "I'll let you know about Saturday."

"Does that mean you're going to give me your number so I can ask you?" he asks.

He really is beginning to flirt, which means I haven't been rude enough.

Maybe that's a good thing.

"I'll see you at the coffee-shop, Nathan," I say pointedly, pushing open my apartment door and stepping over the threshold.

The hot-nerd laughs. "Don't poison my morning latté, Annabeth," he counters, taking a few steps backward.

"No promises," is my answer, even though I fail to keep the smile off my face.

Nathan winks at me before backing away down the corridor. He waves and I roll my eyes, turning away and closing the door behind me. 

As I make my way slowly towards my room, I can't help but think about the night. I actually had fun even if I hadn't expected it. I was nervous at first, annoyed soon after, and then just decided to get through the night and forget all about him. Nathan isn't really my type, with his laughing and books and laid-back style. He doesn't have tattoos, no piercings, and didn't curse all night. He was just sweet.

I mean, even my serial-killer fascination didn't bother him.

Usually, I would be extremely suspicious of overly nice guys, wondering within two minutes what the hell they want. Nathan seems different though, genuinely nice. Even though he's the exact opposite of Kyle, he might just be the right guy for me. Maybe he'll be my second ever boyfriend.

The loud ringing of the doorbell brings me out of my thoughts, and I turn back to the door. Maybe Nathan forgot to say something. Maybe he changed his mind about the second date.

I peek out through the peep-hole, expecting to see the freckles under brown eyes with long lashes. Instead, I see a hooded figure whose face I am unable to make out.

My hand goes into my pocket, fingers closing around the pepper-spray I have been carrying in my jeans all night. Rule one of first dates -- always carry pepper spray in case the guy gets handsy.

"Who is it?" I call through the door.

There is no answer, and my mind oscillates between my options. I could leave the door closed, go to bed, and hope the stalker doesn't break open my lock. Or, I could open the door, spray pepper in his eyes, kick him where the sun doesn't shine, and scream my head off till the entire state hears me and runs to beat the crap out of the hooded creep.

I decide to go with the second.

Mostly because I want some action to wash away all the unwelcome romantic feelings Nate left in me.

Emotional giddiness makes me nauseous.

Holding the spray firmly in my right hand, I curl my left one around the door-knob, pulling the door open in one swift motion. My guest probably didn't expect it, because his head jerks upwards, exposing his face to my sight.

Time freezes, the pepper-spray slipping out of my hand in dramatic slow-motion and landing with a gentle thud on the carpeted floor. My mouth falls open at the same time, my eyes widening in disbelief when they meet the green ones I know so well. My heart stops beating, my lungs holding in their air as if wishing to suffocate the life out of me. Only one word leaves my lips, and that one word is a name. A name I can never forget.

"Kyle?"  

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