“This is insane, you know that?” Jesse says as he buckles in his seatbelt the minute the flight attendant tells us to.  I think he’s still a bit bewildered about everything going on, as I kind of explained everything to him in an elated rush when he was still half-asleep.

I look over at him and grin, loving the boyish excitement glittering his features.  He looks absolutely and adorably warm today, and I know it’s going to take every ounce of my will power not to make out with him for the entirety of this flight.  He’s wearing that gray beanie that always makes me a bit dry-mouthed, gray sweatpants, and a maroon Henley shirt that stretches across his lean muscles just right.

It’s infuriatingly tempting.

I ask him, “Were you surprised?”

“Fuck yeah I was,” he curses with a naughty grin, reaching his hand to the side to grab at my upper thigh.  “I’ve never had a surprise like this.”

“What?” I ask him disbelievingly, trying to focus on something other than how warm and close his fingers are to me, “You never had a surprise birthday party?”

He shakes his head, “I never really did the whole birthday party thing, I never liked it.  Too much attention.”

I narrow my eyes at him; “Well I’m throwing you a party this year.  Next year.” And then, with my cheeks blushing, I ask him, “When is your birthday, by the way?”

“It’s in April,” he grins, shaking his head at me.  “And please no party.  Just give me a cake and a kiss and I’ll be good.”

“We’ll see,” I tease, knowing he’s crazy if he thinks I won’t make a bigger deal out of his birthday.  I’ve always been a party planning fiend, especially for people I care about, and since Jesse’s been moving steadily upward on the list of people I care for, he’s going to get one of the best ones.

We’re both quiet for take off, and I can tell by the increasing pressure of his grip on my thigh and the few hurried glances out the window beside me, that he gets very nervous by them.  I’ve been on enough flights recently to have effectively curved any apprehension I get, so when I feel his fingers starting to leave a bruise, I ungrasp his fingers and then place my hand on his cheek, moving him down to kiss me.

It doesn’t work as well as I thought it would, as he doesn’t kiss me back as wholeheartedly as he usually does, that part of his mind still focusing on the increasing elevation of the plain, but he doesn’t move away.  And that’s enough to motivate me to keep distracting him.

When the attendant announces that we’re safely tucked away in the air and can use our electronics, I pull away from him and for the first time since I’ve known him his eyes don’t immediately meet mine.  Instead they avert over my shoulder and out the window, and I think when he realizes we’re in the sky and not hurtling towards our death, his chest deflates.

Poor guy.

“You okay?” I ask him as soon as he looks back at me.

He nods, his breathing a bit heavier than normal, as he explains, “The last time I was on a plane was when I was six, so I’m just…I’m not exactly used to it.”

“Sorry,” I say, for some reason feeling the need to apologize.  “My mom has nerve pills she uses when she flies, I’m sure I could’ve gotten you some.  I didn’t even…”

He rolls his eyes at me, “You’re crazy.  You surprise me with a flight to Los Angeles for two days, with a nice hotel and everything, and you apologize ‘cause I don’t like flying?”

When he puts it that way it does seem a bit over-the-top, but I can’t help it.  I’m so desperate for this trip to be perfect, for us to be perfect, that anything that has the ability to render it less than has me in panic.

“I just want you to have fun, that’s all.  I didn’t want to surprise you with this and you feel obligated to go, but not have a good time and…”

He leans in and kisses me the way I just kissed him a moment ago, but unlike last time he’s completely into it, his tongue never making a wanted appearance, but his lips soft and playful.  When he pulls back he says, “I’m already having fun, Macks.  I’m with you, on a fucking plane, on our way to fucking L.A., and I get to have you all to myself for two days?  I’m fucking excited, okay?”

I tease him, “Say fuck again.”

He chuckles, leaning in and giving me a quick peck, before saying quietly, “Fuck.”

Neither of us sleep on the flight, as he just woke up a few hours ago and because I’m way too excited and far too immersed in planning to mode to even think about my lack of sleep last night.  Instead I tell him all of the things I looked up online that we could do, even the things that I’d find incredibly boring but that I know he’d love.

I tell him, “Okay, so when we get there I say we go to the hotel, get dressed and all that, and then I don’t know about you, but I’m going to be starving.  So we can go eat and walk around and stuff.  Most everything will be closed by then, so I’m thinking we do all of the shopping and walking around Wednesday since our flight isn’t until six.  I had her make it kind of late so we’d have time to do stuff, and apparently later flights are a lot less crowded and loud, so…”

He asks me curiously, “Where’s the hotel?  It’s not in the area where we’ll get shot just for not being homeless, right?”

“No,” I giggle, shaking my head at him.  “It’s in West Hollywood, right on Sunset Boulevard.  I think the Walk of Fame is, like, ten minutes away, so we definitely need to go look at that.”

He looks at me incredulously, his eyes wide and the slightest of smiles on his lips. “So in your book we’re going to canvas all of L.A. in two days?”

I narrow my eyes at him.  Does he think we can’t do it?  I’ve been on many trips with my mom where we’ve been able to accomplish weeks’ worth of things in days.  All you have to do is have a plan and walk fast.  I’ve mastered the art of it.  But in order not to sound crazy, I say, “At least the stuff that’s interesting.  I looked it all up, Jess.  I couldn’t really sleep last night, so I was on Google Maps for hours.  We’re in the perfect spot, ‘cause the beach and the pier are only like twenty minutes away, and then on the other side there’s all the Hollywood stuff.  And oh my God we have to do that star tour thing!  On the double-decker bus!”

“Babe,” he says chuckling to himself, reaching out and grabbing a light hold of my chin.  “Calm down, you’re going to give yourself a heart attack.”

When he releases his grip I stick my tongue out at him, looking away from him and outside the window.  I know I’m getting a bit too overzealous about this whole thing, but I really can’t help myself.  It’s the first time I’m going on a trip with a guy, and it just so happens that it’s a guy I might possibly be falling in love with.

And a guy who literally only has one thing to find out before it’s all over.

That’s why this needs to be perfect.  So that if he does find out, maybe he can look back on this, at the greatness of this trip, and be reminded that I’m not just some broken girl.  I can be fun and I can show him a good time.  My being raped doesn’t make me who I am.  I know he won’t exactly think that after a good bit of time, but at first it might be all he sees.

And I don’t want to wait a long time for him to realize it and come back to me.

--------- 

We get to the hotel right around six o’clock that evening, a whole hour later than what I thought.  I guess in all of my haste to make this the best trip ever, I totally forgot how long getting off the plane and making it through baggage claim can take.  But I will not be discouraged by it, and by the time we’re pulling our luggage through the door to our room, I don’t even care that we’ve lost an hour.

The hotel is well known for being incredibly modern, and it’s definitely lived up to that reputation.  The rooms are done in stark orange, dark gray, and vibrant white, and it makes me feel like some important celebrity the minute I see it.  There’s a massive flat-screen television mounted on the wall across from the bed, a large and elaborate sun-shaped mirror against another wall, and all of the surfaces in the room are made of thick glass.

Jesse whistles as he looks around the room, and I see him fall in love the minute his eyes lay claim on the TV.  Yeah, I definitely won’t feel too guilty leaving him alone for a few hours tomorrow.  I doubt he’ll even get out of bed.

“This is intense,” he observes, tossing his duffel bag onto the edge of the white king bed.

“I know…” I draw out, walking over to the window-hiding curtains at the far end of the room.  I swiftly pull them open, wanting to see the view, and even though I know there are far more beautiful and expansive views in hotel rooms, this one still takes a few breaths away.  “It’s gorgeous.”

I hear him jump on the bed and then he says, “They must really want you at this show tomorrow.”

I turn to face him and smile bashfully, still not used to this kind of expensive treatment just because of my videos.  I say, “It’s crazy.  I never thought it’d be like this.  I mean, I saw pictures online and all, but this…I don’t know.”

“C’mere,” he says with a grin, patting the bed in a way that makes my heart thump.

I hurry over to him and jump on the bed beside him, loving that excited glint in his eye that I know is of my doing.  He reaches for my hips, pulling me in close, before he whispers genuinely, “Thank you…for this.  This is amazing.  You’re amazing.”

And before I can even respond to him he’s pushed forward, his lips mauling my own and one of his hands tightly cupping my jaw so that I can’t move.  Not that I would ever think of doing so.  Instead I rise to my knees so that I’m hovering over him, my face above his own but our lips still connected, and I shove my fingers into the thick hair on the sides of his head.

He groans softly at the back of his throat, his hands moving to slide up the fabric of my shirt and grip tightly at my hips.  With his newfound grip he quickly pushes me backward, my lips disconnecting from his with a light smack, and my voice coming out in a quick squeak as my back falls onto the soft mattress.

He wastes no time in crawling on top of me, his lips descending to my neck instead of meeting my own.  He immediately seeks out that one spot with his lips, finding it in just seconds and bringing me to an almost embarrassingly loud moan as he teases it with his teeth.

At the sound of my frustration, he pulls away, a devilish smirk coating his delicious and kiss-plumped lips.  He asks, “You still want to spend the whole time we’re here sightseeing?”

I narrow my eyes at him, immediately knowing what he’s getting at.  If he thinks that we’re going to spend the entirety of this trip with me on my back, then he’s sorely mistaken.  I don’t even care if he thinks that’s what he wants.  I know better.  He has the power to get me on my back anywhere, so why waste our time in a place we may never get to see again?

With that thought in mind, I push hardly against his chest, making him sit up and me doing the same as soon as he’s not on top of me.  I tell him seriously, “Oh, we’re still going.”

I know I probably look a bit ridiculous, with my kiss-mussed hair and my shirt hanging at all the wrong angles, but I don’t care.  I clamber sloppily off the bed, my breathing still coming a bit incessantly from his kisses even though I’m trying my hardest to not think of them, and then tell him, “I’m going get ready.  You better be ready when I’m done.”

“Yes ma’am,” he laughs, grinning like a little schoolboy.

Prick.

With that I grab my bags and haul them into the bathroom, gasping a bit when I see the shower.  It’s the kind where the showerhead is a giant square hung from the ceiling, the water coming down like rainfall.  I make a mental note to take an hour-long shower sometime while we’re here.

I quickly wash my face, ridding of any earlier makeup so that I have a clean palette, and then quickly get to work, not wanting to look overdone but knowing that I’ll need something special if I’m going to be walking amongst all of these Hollywood people.  Once I’m done with my face, I quickly get to work on my hair, wrapping large chunks of hair around a larger wand so that it falls in loose and tousled waves.

By the time I’m walking out of the bathroom to grab my clothes it’s only been thirty minutes, and Jesse’s lounging at the head of the bed with his arms cross behind his head, his eyes intently trained on the borderline obnoxious TV in front of him.  But as I go to scold him for not getting ready, I see that he’s already changed.

He’s wearing dark-washed jeans that I know hug his butt in the most perfect of ways, a gray slight V-neck, a red and black flannel shirt on top and, to my delight, he’s kept the beanie.

He says teasingly, “C’mon Macks, hurry up!  I’m ready to go!”

“Oh shut up,” I respond, poking my tongue out at him yet again before grabbing the bag I kept all of my clothes in.  I place it on the edge of the bed, making sure not to block his view of his beloved TV, and then quickly grab the outfit I’d already planned for tonight.

Even though it’s December, we’re still in Southern California which means it’s not exactly freezing.  The lowest it’s supposed to get while we’re here is fifty-five, which is about ten degrees higher than what our highs have been lately.

So that’s why my outfit consists of the same black leggings I was wearing before, this cute and flowing dress that reaches only mid-thigh, a cardigan, and some gray Steve Madden ankle boots.  I feel pretty stylish once I’m done and after spritzing on some of my favorite perfume to finish it all off, I head back into the bedroom.

“You good to go?” I ask him, and cheer silently in my head when he responds with a  “yep” and then flicks off the TV.

We’d decided earlier that tonight would be the night we’d make our way over to the beach and Saint Monica’s pier, mainly because I’d be too tired tomorrow night to truly enjoy it and because the water would be too chilly to need daytime to enjoy it.  So we hail the first cab we see and then let it take us the fifteen minutes it takes to reach it.

The sky has already turned dark, so the lights hailing from the Ferris wheel and all of its surroundings illuminate the sky in a way that has a childlike excitement bursting from every pore.  Once we’ve paid the driver, we’re both pretty quick to head through the parking lot and up the wooden ramp that takes us to the center of everything.

Before we head anywhere though, I grab Jesse’s arm and ask him, “You want to get something to eat first?  I’m starving.”

“Sure,” he says, and then leads me to the first corndog stand he sees.  As we’re waiting in line, he explains, “You probably don’t want to eat anything too big, ‘cause I’m definitely making you ride all the rides here.”

I grin up at him, pressing a quick kiss against cheek, “Good. ‘Cause I was going to make you ride them too.”

After we both devour our food, we head in the direction of Pacific Park, where all of the rides are.  While I’m sure all of the shopping and eating and stuff is fun, I feel like I haven’t been to an amusement park in forever, and I’m definitely going to take advantage of it.

Since we just ate, we start out on some of the smaller rides, but after just a few of them the two of us are dying to get on the roller coaster that circles the entire park.  The line for it is insanely long, even though it is just a Monday night, and we spend the whole thirty-minute wait keeping an eye out for famous people and judging the non-famous people who think they can act like one.

By ten o’clock the only thing we haven’t done is the Ferris wheel, and by some unspoken communication between us, this is going to be the last ride of the night.  Since the ride is continuous it doesn’t take us very long to get on, but as we move further up and the amazing view of the dark ocean comes into play, I don’t want to get off.

We still have more than half the ride left when I cuddle into Jesse, his arm wrapping around my shoulders and my head resting on his chest as we keep close and keep silent, our attention solely focused on the view at hand.  It makes me feel so incredibly small, so insignificant, and while some people may hate the feeling, I welcome it.

It makes all of my problems and all of my issues seem miniscule.  There’s so much more to this world than what happened to me in high school, so much beauty, so much space, and I don’t think it’s ever hit me how astoundingly sad it is that I’ve focused my entire life for the past five years on it.  When there’s stuff like this in the world, views like this, my dark past shouldn’t even matter.

The ride’s over just a few minutes later, and as much as I’d love to ride it again, the park’s going into closing mode.  As we’re walking out of the park grounds and back into the main part of the pier, Jesse once again threads his arm around my shoulders and pulls me to him, my arm instinctively grasping around his waist.

“You want to walk the beach?” he asks me softly.

“Definitely,” I answer, and let him lead me through the crowds of loud and raucous people starting to depart for the night, children crying and not wanting to leave while their parents attempt to quell them, teenagers gossiping about everything under the sun, and then people, couples, like Jesse and I, wrapped up in the nighttime and the lights and the smells of the pier, wrapped up in each other.

It’s like an out-of-body experience almost.

The minute we step off of the ramp and onto the sand beneath it, it’s like all of the crazed energy from the pier has evaporated, leaving us in this dark and quiet and mysteriously beautiful place.  “Let’s take our shoes off,” I tell him, leading him to a spare wooden bench and then taking a seat.

I quickly remove my boots and then fold the ends of my leggings up so that they don’t get sand all over them, and once I’m done I see that Jesse is as well.  He grabs my hand and helps me off the bench, and we then make our way down the cool and grainy sand towards the water, the waves crashing into each other as the tide makes its way in.

“This is amazing,” I whisper to him, knowing that he can hear me due to the stark stillness of everything but the roaring water.

“It really is,” he responds back, looking down at me and stopping our steady pace towards the water.

He pulls me towards him with the hand he’s been holding and then wraps it around my hips once I’m close enough, his hand holding his shoes dangling at his side.  “Thank you,” he says, leaning in and pressing his forehead against my own, his dark blue eyes positively radiant against the dark backdrop of the sky.  “This…I needed this, and you bringing me here when you could’ve brought Carly or…”

I cut him off, using my free hand to reach up and trace over the small indentation of his upper lip, the beautiful fullness of his lower.  “Never tell her I told you this,” I start, giving him a small and intimate smile, “But I didn’t even think of bringing her here.  I thought of you.  The minute me and that woman hung up.”

He doesn’t respond with words, only with a kiss, and it’s so soft and so slow and so heart wrenchingly beautiful that when he pulls away, I almost respond with “I love you”.  But I don’t, thankfully, and instead lead him over to where the water’s meeting the shoreline.

He asks me, “You want to put your foot in?”

“It’s going to be so cold!” I tell him, but even though I still move towards the water and slowly sink