Page 23 of The List of Things

“The Notebook, duh.”

“And romantic first time?” He adds.

“New Girl. Jess and Nick had a romantic first time and it was adorable and so sweet. I loved that episode,” I explain.

“Your pretty bouquet?” He keeps peeking at the list.

The wind is rustling his hair as he drives making him look effortless.

“Big Fish. The field of daffodils scene is one of the most romantic of all time. I know a bouquet isn’t the same as a field, but it’s still the thought that counts. Plus no one has ever even gotten me a single flower let alone a bouquet,” I tell him.

“What about the playlist?” He asks, and I shrug.

“I feel like one of the most romantic gestures is when someone hears or sees something, and they think of someone else. That’s what dedicating a playlist to someone is. Hearing someone and tying it to someone else. In the movie Stuck in Love, Rusty says that Kate reminds him of the songI’ve Just Seen a Faceby The Beatles. That line always gives me butterflies. So I took inspiration and put the playlist on the list,” I say.

I love that movie so much. It’s definitely one of my favorites.

“What about the New Year's kiss?” He asks, and I think of my parents, but don’t want to tell him anything about them.

At least not my favorite stories about them.

“When Harry Met Sally. He confesses he loves her at the New Year’s Party, it’s romantic, and … and I just think New Year’s is special,” I shrug, and he nods.

“Cute. This little list, and all your little doodles, it’s cute,” He compliments, and I blush.

It is cute, and not like me at all to do such a thing. When I do I end up in messes like this one.

He drives us the rest of the way, making jokes to me, and asking me questions that are easy, and simple. We talk like we did when we were distracted from studying. The drive is easy and quick.

We arrive at Elliot Bay, the ferry boats perfectly in sight. There are a few of them, lined together. Part of me gets incredibly excited, the feeling welling up in my chest. I push that excitement down, knowing this is fake. That this is for a list, and nothing more.

I reach for my door, starting to open it. A hand reaches across the car brushing my body, Bellamy’s hand encloses mine and he closes the door. He has completely invaded my personal space as he leans over my seat. I look at him and his face is inches from mine.

He raises his eyebrows like he’s wondering what the hell I’m doing. I’m staring at him wondering if his hand covering mine is making me hot or if it’s just a hundred degrees right now. I swallow deeply as I’m face to face with him, noticing just how perfect he looks in high definition.

“Don’t be rude. We’re on a date. I open the doors, you look pretty,” He chastises me, and moves away, but leaves the tension.

Bellamy gets out, and circles around the back of the car. I take a deep breath, and then he opens the door for me, holding his hand out, waiting to take mine. He helps me from the car and lets go of my hand right away, making me somewhat nervous at how jumpy he seems. We walk with no contact at all and continue toward the boats. He gets to the ticket kiosk, and I walk up first.

“One ticket please,” I tell the woman behind the desk, and Bellamy once again leans close, invading my bubble once more.

“Two... Two tickets,” He tells her, passing her a card with his name etched on it.

I open my mouth to protest, and then close it. I’m not used to this type of treatment. I feel like a fucking princess, wow.Is this what healthy feels like? Is this how others live every day?

“Don’t look so surprised Ryn,” He laughs as he takes the tickets and his card back.

“I wasn’t trying to, I’m just not used to this,” I say.

We walk together now as we talk.

“Dates?” His eyes are so soft, I can barely look at this man without my insides melting, what did his parents feed him?

“People paying for me on dates,” I correct him, my eyes scanning my surroundings instead of looking at the man next to me.

“Not to bring him up again... But he never paid for you?” Bellamy approaches the man on the dock first, handing him our tickets.

“No, we either split things, or I paid for both of us,” I admit, already knowing he’s going to hate that response.

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