Dear Fin,

    Sometimes I think about how we fell in love and how crazy it was. And then I think about how crazy the mere idea of falling in love is. And how terrifying. Because the metaphor, words so commonly spoken that to most they have lost their true meaning, is correct; you literally offer another person your heart, passing it to them, and watch it drop through the air . . . you can only hope they catch it, that they catch you when you fall. For me, with you, I watched myself shatter on the cold, hard ground. I had to pick myself up again. I'm not quite yet finished.

    And sometimes . . . I think about the euphoria that is love.  About how it feels like to have someone press their lips to yours and press words to your mouth in a language only you two understand. About how it feels to fall asleep, strong arms securely around you, listening to a melody of a heart beat that it yours. About how it feels like to look into someone's eyes and you know where your home is. That is love.

     And when I wonder about these things, sometimes, I always think about how I lost you and how devastating that fact it. Because I love you. Because you're my Fin. Because you were everything I had been praying for my whole life. And then you're gone. I . . . it's hard for me to remember. Or feel. Or anything, for that matter.

    Sometimes, I think too much.

    Encounter Number Twenty-Two:

    "She's an idiot," you told me, as you lazily stepped back into your room, you retook your spot next to me on the bench. "Actually, she's mentally handicapped."

    I slapped your arm. "Tha-at's not a go-good th-thing to sa-say."

    You sighed. "Dove, Etta broke three plates –three plates- because she was trying to balance them on her nose. Her reasoning? Seals can do it."

      "Well, th-they ca-can," I reasoned.

     You placed your face in your palm. "Not you, too."

     I patted your arm, right where I had slapped it. "Re-relax"

   For awhile, in your room we had sat there, leaning against each other as if we given one another the power to live. You made me feel stronger. And after awhile, you returned to your piano, and played me a pretty little tune. We sat there for another while, sitting in your music, letting it linger around us and stir our souls.

    Unfortunately, after a while, you had disappeared due to that cursed noise. And, whola, you had returned.

    I sighed. "I sho-should be get-get-ting home so-soon."

    You frowned. "Do you have to go so early?"

    "My da-dad will wor-worry."

    You drew your arm around me. "Alright, I'll release you from this cage, my dove. Let me take you home."

    We decided to walk, since it was still fairly warm in our little home town, ignoring the dark clouds that lurked in the horizon. You kept your arm securely around my shoulder, our steps falling into a rhythm as you told me stories about Etta. I could see the adoration in your eyes as you spoke about her.

     "-Not exactly her brightest moment, you know? I mean, I have no clue why anyone would think it's a good idea to try to 'clean your eyebrows with a toothbrush.' But it was Etta, so she was probably like, 'sounds good to me.' And-"

    I would never get to know what that and ended with because it started to rain, unexpectedly. Of course, it wasn't just a little drizzle. It was pounding against our skin, as if begging to seep into our pores. You cursed but I couldn't help but laugh as the cool liquid hit my face, allowing you to shelter me with your arms.

    "You're so cute, you know that?" You murmured, placing your face into the crook of my neck. I could feel the movement of your lip against my skin, sending shocks of pleasure racing through my veins.

    "Not as cu-cute as-"

    I was interrupted by a roar of thunder and flash of lightening. You laughed, a slightly paranoid sound, before holding me tighter. "Let's get you home, dove. It's too dangerous for you to fly in this weather."

    I giggled, incredibly girlish, as I wrapped both arms around your waist. I could feel the smooth lines of your muscles beneath my hands, which I tried not to focus too hard on. I was anchored to you as we quickly scurried to my house.

    After twenty minutes, we had no hope of arriving at my house. Twenty minutes of singing and splashing and hugging and getting soaked, we're nowhere close to my household. We're dripping wet and I didn't want my mother to see us -I knew she would be upset if we soaked up her carpet too much- and the thunder and lightning was becoming more intense . . . you grabbed my hand, pulling me under the cover of a small cafe's tarp. I sat down at one of the tables –literally on the table, since the chairs were wet- you standing before me, our fingers still awkwardly intertwined.

    "You have such pretty eyes," you whispered, staring down at me. "So pretty and hazel and Annalise Martin. I wish everyone had eyes like yours."

    I blushed. "Th-thanks."

    You frowned. "Are you cold?"

     "N-no . . . why do y-you as-ask?"

    "You're shaking, you're cold."

    And you stepped forwards, between my legs, our bodies pressing together. We're so close that I could feel your heart racing in my chest, against mine, matching. I gulped as your arms slithered around me, pulling me closer, so we're crushed lush against each other. I didn't know I could be this close to someone.

    "Better?" You murmured.

    You hadn't knelt to my level, so my forehead was placed on your collarbone. You heart thundered in my ear, louder than the storm raging around us. You couldn't see my face, I couldn't see yours. What were you thinking?

    "Y-yes."

    And then you knelt down, lowering yourself so we're as close as we could possibly be. I could count your eyelashes, see the flecks of blue in your eyes, note the softness of your lips . . . you fingers tangled in my hair, fisting the back of my shirt along with it. My finger acted of their own accord, touching the silk surface that was your cheek.

    "Annalise," you breathed.

    And you kissed me.

    I was on fire.

    I was a lip virgin, but there was nothing scary about this. Your lips softly brushed against mine, at first, your taste tantalizing my taste buds; all vanilla and cinnamon and Fin. I sighed against your touch, replying with a slight movement of my lips, trying to repeat the one you had made. You chuckled a bit.

    We pulled apart for a second, staring at each other.

    And then it happened again.

    Your lips were as soft as they looked, but as soon as we touched, a spark erupted inside both of us. You crushed your mouth against mine, completely devouring me with your kisses. My arms curled around your neck as our mouths moved against each other's, no hesitation or thought, just pure carnal instinct.

    No longer were we sitting in a storm. No longer were we in front of a cafe, where people could see us. No longer did the world around us exist . . . it just was you and I. Finland Erickson and Annalise Martin, together as they should be.

    We pulled away from each other when we heard the wolf whistle.

    It was Etta.

    She was driving by in your car, which from your expression I could tell you're pleased about, and a smirk spread wickedly across her cheeks. She was parked right in front of us. "So . . . fancy meeting you here?"

    I blushed, burying my head in your shoulder.

    You growled, "What do you want, Etta?"

    "Well, once upon a time," she started with her dramatic flair. "There was an absolutely gorgeous princess named Etta; along with being stunningly beautiful, she was incredibly intelligent and had the kindest heart in the world. And-"

     "Etta," you groaned. "Get to the point."

    Etta rolled her eyes.  "And, because of her incredible kindness, upon hearing that her moron brother –who wasn't nearly as kind and smart and attractive as she was- and pretty fairy girlfriend –who could frankly do so much better- were stuck in storm, she decided to help them. She rode her mighty carriage all through the kingdom, looking for her beloved family. But at last, she found the pair . . . interlocked in a heavy embrace in front of the town's pub. Upon the sight, the eyes of the beautiful princess maiden's melted in her head and she screamed in agony and everyone watched on in horror-"

    I blushed even more.

    "Etta." You sighed. "You . . . you're just too Etta."

    "Aww, that's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me," she squealed. "Unfortunately, you're not Etta enough."

    "Anyways . . ." You trailed off.

    "Do you guys want a ride? I'll give you one, as long as you can promise no eye sex or eye flirtation. You know, I basically just my brother hit second base in public, so I've had enough imagery for a life time and-"

    You grabbed my hand, tugging me towards the car.

    End of Encounter Number Twenty-Two.

    I just . . .

    I can't even.

    -Annalise.

*

Hey Reader!

Chapter's song: "The Lucky Ones" by Lana del Rey. This song perfectly describes the euphoria that Annalise is feeling.

Thanks for reading!

Love Your Favorite Liar <3