"It's hot!"

"That's why it's called hot chocolate," Daniel says amusedly.

We're in Bean Stalk, the famous coffee shop in town.  It's raining outside. The wind is blowing the trees. Even through the glass window, I can still hear the honking of the cars because of the traffic.

"Annalise."

I snap out of my thoughts and find Daniel a few inches from my face. I pull away out of habit. Even though we're together, human contact is still bizarre.

"Say ah," he says, opening his mouth wide.

I frown. "Why?"

"I'll feed you."

"No!"

"Why not?"

"I can eat by myself," I say, glancing around us.

There are a lot of people in the coffee shop, and I don't want them talking about us making a show. I know, it's just my imagination, but it doesn't change the fact that we're surrounded by people.

Daniel rolls his eyes. "Come on."

Come on, Annalise, it's just in your head. Don't be shy.

Daniel smiles at me encouragingly. How can I resist him?

"Fine."

I open my mouth and let him feed me with a slice of triple vanilla cake coated in chocolate.

"Happy?" I ask wryly, wiping my mouth with a tissue.

He gives me a thumb up. "Can I read your story?" he asks, excitement creeping in his voice. "Have you written the continuation yet?"

"Yes," I answer, rummaging my bag for my notebook and handing it to him.

He easily finds the page where he stopped reading.

"After their dinner, Clay invites Alyson to stroll in the Boardwalk. She quickly agrees because it's her first time to stay out late with a guy. Besides, Clay is taking good care of her, and she's having a great time. She doesn't want it to end yet."

Daniel pauses and sips his hot chocolate. He gets the notebook and begins again, "Alyson has no idea that Adam is just behind them, following them from a distance. She's too happy to even consider that Adam cares about her."

Daniel glances at me from the notebook and says, "I really feel bad about this Adam guy."

"You know what they say, you see someone's worth when they're gone."

He cocks his eyebrow. "Is that so?"

I shrug, and he continues reading.

"Clay brings Alyson to the fountain where they sit on a wooden bench. They talk about their dreams and fears, what they want to do after they graduated from high school. Apart from Adam, Clay is the only guy whom Alyson feels comfortable with. She stops being shy around him, and she freely answers his questions.

Clay is an easy person, she thought to herself.

She can't wait to tell her mother about her date, but at the same time, she doesn't want to go home yet.

But Clay promised Alyson's mother that they'd be home by ten. Before they go, Clay holds Alyson's hand and leads her to the fountain. He gives her a penny and tells her to make a wish.

Alyson laughs good-naturedly. 'I don't believe in wishes,' she says amusedly, 'In this, letting destiny decide for you.'

Clay, the good sport that he is, tells her, 'Then nothing wrong will happen once you try, right?'

Alyson purses her lips. 'I guess.' She takes the penny from Clay and closes her eyes. Before she can throw it away, Adam moves out of the shadow and decides to leave."

Daniel whistles under his breath. "That was intense," he says, returning my notebook to me.

I'm glad he's not asking me why it's too short.

I used to write four thousand words in one day.

Now? I can't even construct a decent sentence.

I'm too pulled up by my real life; I can't make time to the people in my head. I feel lost without, like a part of me is missing. I can't imagine myself not writing and pouring my heart out in the pages of my notebook.

Without the words in my head, my ideas who wake me in the middle of the night, I won't be me.

"When?" Daniel asks, breaking me from my reverie.

"I'm sorry, what?"

His mouth twitches upward. "I asked: when will they get their happy ending?"

"In creating a story, you need problems," I explain. "As time goes by, the characters will solve them. They will overcome their fears, and they will succeed in their journey. If I suddenly change the phase and make a big leap of events, like, they end up together without reasons or scenes to back it up, it will not make sense. It won't be realistic."

Realization crosses his face. "I didn't know that writing could be that complicated," he says. "You need to think everything through. I suppose you have an ending in mind?"

I pause and think for a moment, choosing my words carefully. "I prepared an ending for them, but I'm not so sure about it. Maybe I'll change it. It depends on what will happen in the next few chapters."

Writing a story without a specific ending in mind is like going to a place without knowing the direction.

You get lost, and you get more detours than you planned.

At the end of the journey, you'll realize you enjoyed it because of those little things. It might take long, but it's worth it; opening new doors, being stuck, and discovering new places.

Or in this case, writing more twists and turns.

"It's hard to write a romantic scene when you're feeling down or confused," I tell him. "I write depending on my mood. When I'm angry, I write raging scenes with loathing characters. They will be realistic because they came from my own emotions."

"When you met me. . ." he trails off.

"Yes?"

"Have you written romantic scenes?"

His question makes me blush. I tell him the truth because we promised not to lie to each other.

"Yes."

Most of the time, my characters surprise me by doing something I didn't plan. It's as if they have their own minds. They're like: No, this is what I want; my life, my choice.

So my outline gets messed up. It's okay though, because during their spontaneous actions, new revelations unfold.

"Tell me stories when you were young," Daniel says.

"Why?" I ask.

"To know you better," he says simply.

"It's not important," I say with a wave of my hand. "It's done."

He smiles at me; his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'm interested."

I'm about to decline when he reaches out and touches my hands. "Please?" he looks at me under his eyelashes. How can I say no to him when I'm trapped in his soft blue eyes?

"Okay," I relent.

Daniel squeezes my hands.

I rack my brain for an interesting memory, and while doing so, I change the scene in my head.

Daniel and I are in the fields of grass, surrounded by trees and hills.

Anything is really possible in my imagination.

Daniel doesn't seem fazed with the change. Instead of sitting on chairs, now we're lying together on the grass. My head is on his chest, and his arms are wrapped around me. He's tracing the outline of my face.

He's distracting me; it's hard to think.

"Daniel," I say, shivering despite of the sun shining down on us, "you're tickling me."

He grins, showing his white teeth. "You're ticklish."

"Do you want me to talk?" I ask. "Or we can just—"

He pulls slightly away from me, a smile on his face. "We can continue later," he says, his blue orbs lighting in amusement.

I roll my eyes. He can be such a guy with his hormones.

"I want to know your story first," he says, nudging me on the side. "I mean, your real story."

"When I was a kid, I used to read bedtime stories," I begin.

He interrupts me with a question. "You started reading at a very young age?"

I nod. "The books I read back then were full of pictures and drawings. They probably woke my passion in reading," I say amusedly.

"And because of too much reading, you can no longer contain the words in your head, so you finally decided to write them down," he continues for me.

I look at him, shocked that he totally got me.

Sometimes, I still can't believe that I just created him; it's as if he has a mind of his own.

Like my characters.

"Another memory?" he prompts.

"There was that time when we built tents using our blankets," I say, surprise at the memories I can remember. "The Sisters let us sleep in them for the night because no one wanted to go back to their own beds." I didn't notice that I'm grinning from ear to ear.

I can picture that moment, as if it only happened yesterday. All of us kids put our blankets on the ground, and we tied the ends of the sheets together. After, we bind them on our bed posts.

It was like being in a camp. We had marshmallows and cookies. That night, we took turns in telling stories.

Stories, I realized, that only children would understand.

"Annalise, when you build your own house someday, what do you want it to be like?" Daniel asks out of nowhere.

I purse my lips. "I don't need a mansion," I say. "I want to live in a country town. I want to be surrounded with trees. Like nature."

"Are we going to live in a forest?"

I laugh. "No. I mean, I don't want to live in the city." I wrinkle my nose. "Too much noise. And I prefer fresh air. I want an open space so that I can watch the clouds in the sky. I want to wake up with the rays of the sun touching my face. Or a house by the beach. I will never get tired of seeing the sunset getting swallowed up in the sea."

Daniel smiles. My heart flutters in my chest. His eyes tell me something that no words can convey.

Even though I'm with Daniel in my imagination, at the deepest back of my mind, I'm thinking of Alex.

Not Alex Vandom, but Alex from my childhood.

And because there's no such thing as perfect timing, and Daniel asked about it, I tell him my past. Everything.

It's weird, I know. It's like reminding myself of what happened, of what I tried to forget.

Even though Daniel is just a figment of my imagination, I still want to know his opinion about it.

So I sit across from him, and begin from the start, omitting the names of the people I met along the way. They will remain anonymous.

Daniel lets me talk without interrupting me.

After, I visualize a bottle of water, and drink from it. My hands are shaking.

Daniel has a concern expression on his face. "Why did you just tell me now?" he asks softly, putting his hand on my cheek.

I shrug. Even I don't have an answer to that.

"I want to know everything about you."

"I will tell you everything from now on," I promise.

I don't know if he pulls me to him, or I pull him with me, but suddenly, we're lying on the grass again.

I lean on him and put my head on his chest. I can hear the steady beating of his heart. His one hand is on my hair, brushing it away from my face, while the other is wrapped around me, making me feel secure.

I feel peaceful after talking to him about my childhood. It's like a heavy weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

I'm starting to fall asleep when he speaks.

"Who's Alex?"

"I'm sorry?" I look at him incredulously, suddenly alert and wide awake.

"It was the only name you mentioned," Daniel says, leaning on his elbows, studying my face.

I didn't mean to talk about Alex. His name probably just slipped off my lips.

Daniel waits for me expectantly.

I take a deep breath and say, "He's just someone that I used to know."

*****

Thank you for reading! Please leave an honest feedback <3

Song: Daydream by Christina Perri