Chapter song: Love - Lana Del Rey

Brett

Bouquet of roses in hand, I knocked twice on the door to Becca's apartment. I tried to wipe the goofy grin off my face but I couldn't. I had been smiling like a damn fool all day.

Tonight, I was going all out. I was aiming for jaw dropping perfection and would settle for nothing less. Our first date at the movie theatre had been interrupted and just like her first kiss redo, Becca deserved the best.

I raised my hand to knock once more when the door opened and I almost forgot how to breathe. Standing in front of me was the most beautiful person I had ever seen.

"Hey gorgeous ..." My voice trailed off as I took a second to actually look at her.

My eyes instantly went to Becca's face as she chewed nervously on her bottom lip. Her blond hair looked like it was made of starlight as it hung loosely over her shoulders. I wanted to reach out and run my fingers through it.

I could feel my mouth hanging open in awe as my eyes traveled down her body. Her dress ... that dress. It was the colour of her eyes, the colour of the early morning sky just as the sun was about to rise. It hugged every dip and curve of her body like second skin.

I pulled my eyes away and met Becca's gaze. She was smiling shyly, fidgeting with the hem of her dress as she watched me watch her.

I had to breathe deeply to steady my heart. Her baby blue eyes ... I wanted to drown in them.

"Are you just going to stand there?" She teased, mocking my inability to form a damn sentence.

I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out.

"I believe your exact words were," she cleared her throat and deepened her voice as she mimicked me. "'Cat got your tongue?' When you kissed me that first day in the hallway and I was the speechless one."

She was smirking at my disheveled state, definitely enjoying every second of having the upper hand.

I blinked, swallowed my damn nerves and mustered up the courage to say something. Anything.

"Holy shit," was what my brain managed to come up with. Becca chuckled and I groaned, rubbing my fingers over my eyebrows.

"How charming," she teased, leaning her hip against the doorframe.

"You look amazing." My eyes gave her another once over as she continued to watch me, amused. "Like, really fucking amazing."

I hated myself for not being able to conjure up another adjective to describe her but my brain had apparently turned to mush in the presence of this girl.

Becca laughed and I felt the warmth of that sound spread through me. "You look really, ugh, freaking amazing, too."

Freaking. I almost forgot my baby doesn't swear.

I grinned happily as I saw the way her face lit up when I handed her the bouquet of roses.

"These are beautiful," she breathed, holding the bouquet up to her nose as she inhaled.

"I thought the roses were fitting," I teased, winking as she rolled her eyes.

I followed Becca down the hallway and into her kitchen, leaning against the counter as she declared she needed a vase for the flowers. When she bent down to open a low cupboard, my eyes instantly went to her --

"Stop staring at my butt." She said firmly, looking over her shoulder and giving me an incredulous look.

I cleared my throat and quickly averted my eyes to the fridge, pretending to be checking out the magnets or whatever the hell was on it.

Becca stood up, vase in hand, and I let my eyes soak in every detail of her as she bustled around the kitchen -- filling up the vase with water, trimming the stems of the roses. She did everything with such patience and precision that I couldn't seem to look away.

She smiled triumphantly and gestured to the vase on the counter where two-dozen red roses were now on full display. "So?" She asked sweetly, turning to me.

I paused for a moment then held up a finger. Plucking out a rose, I cut the stem off with the scissors she had been using and made sure to get rid of any thorns. Stepping around the counter dividing us, I walked up to Becca and brushed her hair behind her ear. Gently, I tucked the rose on top as her eyes never left mine.

The space between us felt alive as my fingers grazed across her skin. It never ceased to amaze me how every part of myself felt fully aware of her presence. She was a volt of energy and it felt as if I'd been electrocuted.

"Now," I said, kissing her softly. "It's perfect."

Becca smiled as she pulled her face away from mine. She tasted like candy; like fire and warmth. Her touch was the past, the present and the future all wrapped up into one perfect gift of now.

"Where are we going tonight?" Becca asked as she tightened her arms around my waist.

"Here and there," I said, absentmindedly running my fingers through her hair.

"I hope here and there has a curfew of eleven o'clock." My head turned to the door at the sound of Becca's mother's voice. She was watching us with crossed arms, smiling nonetheless.

"Mom," Becca groaned, stepping away from me. I chuckled at the redness in her cheeks. So innocent, even now.

"No later than eleven," her mother repeated, giving me a stern look.

"Eleven," I confirmed, smiling at her kindly.

"Then have a great night." With that, she walked back down the hallway as Becca tapped her foot beside me, impatiently.

Laughing, I grabbed her hand in mine and led her down the hallway, out the door and into the corridor.

"Since when is my mother the curfew type?" She complained once the door behind us was shut.

"Maybe she's beginning to realize all your sleepover's with Cassie," I formed my fingers into air quotes around her best friend's name, "were actually sleepovers with me."

I jerked to a halt as she stopped walking suddenly, pulling me backwards with her hand. "You think she knows?" She whispered, her eyes darting back to the door as if the halls had ears.

"No," I lied, not wanting to worry her.

Becca turned back to me and slapped my arm lightly as she laughed. "You're a horrible liar."

She continued to walk down the hallway as I followed beside her, intertwining our fingers together. "Here and there," she murmured to herself, repeating my words from earlier. "What exactly is tonight, anyways?"

I pressed the down button to the elevator and turned to her, holding her hands in both of mine. "Tonight, my dear, is do-over night."

"Do-over night." She repeated, giving me a funny look.

I nodded happily, humming to myself as we waited for the elevator.

"Fine," she sighed, impatiently turning my attention back to her as I chuckled. "What is do-over night?" She asked, her face scrunching up like it was a dirty word.

"A night of do-overs." I shrugged, suppressing my smile as I watched her become more and more agitated.

"But what exactly are we doing over?" She looked adorable as her eyebrows drew together in confusion. Her lips pursed and I leaned down to kiss her quickly as she laughed against my mouth.

The elevator doors opened and we stepped inside. "Remember your first kiss do-over on the rooftop?" I asked while pressing the button for the bottom floor.

Her eyes wandered as she undoubtedly thought back to that night. "Yes," she replied after a moment, sounding far away.

"Tonight," I said, grabbing her hand in mine once again. "Is a do-over for our first date."

"There was nothing wrong with our first date at the theatre, Brett."

"We were interrupted," I shrugged, not wanting to mention Jade's name.

"Yes," she said slowly, taking a step towards me and placing her palms on my chest. "But that was the night you told me you loved me," she reminded me, as if I could ever forget.

"Then act shocked when I tell you again later."

Becca laughed, her face turning serious after a moment. "I love all of our firsts, Brett. First kiss, first date, first everything. They don't need do-overs."

"First time?" I asked mischievously.

"Now that may actually need a do-over."

"Well, tonight is do-over night," I teased, batting my eyelashes at her.

Becca opened her mouth to speak as the doors opened and an elderly couple walked in. They took one look at Becca wrapped in my arms and turned away quickly, standing straight up against the door with their backs to us.

Becca's eyes locked onto mine, wide in horror as I laughed. Loudly.

"Brett!" She hissed, placing her hand over my mouth. The couple turned around quickly and glared us before returning their attention back to the metal door.

Becca's cheeks began to warm up in embarrassment when I grabbed her and pulled her against me, kissing her with everything I had. We were young and in love and who gave a fuck what other people thought about it. She threw her head back in laughter as my hands traveled below her waist, tracing all the curves that dress put on full display. My mouth lingered on her neck as the doors opened and the couple ran out.

I smiled, satisfied, as Becca attempted to glare at me. "You're horrible," she declared, smoothing down her hair.

I shrugged off her insult, mostly because she was right, and wrapped my arm tightly around her waist as we walked into the lobby.

* * *

The restaurant's parking lot was full when we arrived. I eyed the line leading out the door and silently thanked myself for booking the two of us a reservation a week ago.

Turning the car off, I glanced over at Becca. Her face was bathed in the neon light from the restaurant's sign but that didn't hide the look on her face. Something was off.

"This place is packed," she said absentmindedly, her eyes scanning the line frantically.

"We have a reservation," I reassured her. I grabbed her hand in mine and held it tightly. "What's the matter?"

She blinked and looked over at me. "Nothing," she replied too quickly to make me believe her. "This restaurant is too expensive, Brett."

I brushed off the unsettling feeling that something was off and rolled my eyes. Money. She was worried about money? My father single-handidly destroyed the later portion of my life. The last thing I would feel guilty about was spending his money.

I held up a finger. "First rule of Do-Over night, no complaining."

"But, Brett --"

"No complaining," I emphasized, smiling as she did.

"Fine." Becca agreed, sighing in defeat. "How many other rules are there?"

"I'll let you know as I think of them." I told her, winking as she laughed.

"Brett! That's not fair. You can't just make them up as you please," she countered, crossing her arms stubbornly.

"That sounds a lot like a complaint, Becca." I teased, watching her amused. She stilled as I leaned in slowly, brushing my lips against her exposed shoulder. "Do-Over night has punishments as well, love."

Becca shuddered and I felt my body tense. I let my gaze wander down her body once more before I kissed her lightly and reluctantly pulled away.

Dinner. Restaurant. I had to keep my mind on track before I attempted something stupid.

"We're already late," I warned, clearing my throat as I eyed the clock on the dash. Our reservation was for nearly ten minutes ago.

"Maybe if you didn't spend five minutes ogling me in the hallway ..." Becca's laughter floated outside, mingling into the warm air as I opened the door and stood up. We were late because of me but I refused to apologize.

As I opened the door and offered Becca my hand as she slowly got out of the car, I didn't regret one second I spent eyeing her in that hallway. She was a sight for sore eyes and even in the darkness, she made my breath catch.

She shyly pulled down the hem of her dress and I could already envision how many guys I would have to glare at tonight as they checked her out. Sighing, I wrapped my arm around her shoulder as we walked to the door.

I could see Becca scanning the line up once more as we walked past the dozens of people waiting. When she caught me watching her, she smiled quickly and looked away. I merely pulled her tighter to my chest and tried to cover as much of her backside as I could with my own body.

The hostess lead us through the dimly lit room to our private table nestled into the corner, as I requested. I thanked her and held out the chair for Becca, pushing it in gently as she sat down.

"You really went all out." She said, her voice dripping awe as she gazed around the room with wide eyes. I chuckled to myself as I sat across from her, staring at her face over the candle burning in the middle of the table.

"They don't have cotton candy ice cream here, babe. Sorry." I teased, picking up the menu. My mouth began to water just as I read the first few lines.

"Do-Over night is not off to a strong start, Brett." She singsonged, smiling at me playfully as she picked up the menu. "What are you getting?" She asked absentmindedly.

I peeled my eyes off the menu and looked at her. A strand of hair was falling over her forehead as she gazed down at the menu, chewing her lip as her eyes roamed over the different options.

"Brett?" She repeated, watching me amusingly as she took a sip from her water glass.

I shut my menu and leaned forward on my elbows, lowering my voice as I spoke. "What I'm really craving isn't on the menu," I said casually. My gaze dipped down to the low neckline of her dress and the way that material made her skin look so damn soft.

Becca's eyes flicked up to mine quickly. I brushed my leg against her own under the table and her eyes widened. Even with the candlelight, I could see the way her cheeks began to darken.

I leaned back in my chair casually as the waitress approached to take our order. I continued to rub my leg against Becca's discreetly and chuckled when she fumbled over her words as she gave the waitress her order. Snapping her menu shut, she glared at me as the waitress walked off.

"We're in public," she hissed, pulling her leg away from mine under the table. I raised my eyebrows as I watched her try to stop the corners of her mouth from turning up into a smile.

"This is a private table," I countered easily, gesturing to the spacious area around us. There were several other tables in this room, but it wasn't nearly as packed as the rest of the restaurant.

"Oh," she began, batting her eyes at me as she reached forward and ran her finger down my arm. "So that's why you requested a private table ..." I flinched as she quickly pinched the skin on my wrist as her voice lowered. "So you could play footsies with me under the table!"

Becca slumped down in her seat and pouted as I threw my head back in laughter. She had no idea how incredibly right she was.

"I didn't feel like sitting in a crowded room while every guy inside this place stares at you." I said truthfully as I grabbed her hand in mine. Her eyes softened at my words and she smiled.

"My mom fussed over me for nearly an hour," she admitted, toying with the strap of her dress as she spoke. "I feel like a present that was wrapped to be put on display for Christmas morning."

I winked at her as I said, "Does that mean I get to unwrap you?" Becca giggled as she reached for her water and I didn't have the heart to tell her I was in no way joking.

"You do look beautiful, Becca." I told her, squeezing her hand in my own.

"Thank you," she said shyly as she rubbed her thumb against the back of my hand. Becca grew quiet as her eyes wandered around the restaurant. I could practically see the wheels turning in her mind at whatever thought was filling her head.

"Tell me," I urged. I wanted to push the table aside and press her to my chest as she filled me in on whatever she was thinking so hard about.

"Tell you what?" She asked innocently, returning her gaze to mine and blinking.

I stared into her eyes that held that depth of the ocean as I spoke. "There's something you're not telling me, love. I can see it," I reached over the table and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, the rose still shining brightly. "What is it?" I asked again.

Becca blew out a breath and sat back in her chair, removing her hands from mine as she crossed them over her chest. "I used to come here once every year," she said quietly, her gaze wandering around the room as she spoke.

I watched her patiently and waited for her to continue. I took a sip of my water just to have something to do with my hand so I wouldn't reach across and grab hers again.

"This is my father's favourite restaurant." She said those words so low I wasn't sure I heard her correctly. Her eyes snapped back to mine as she spoke again. "We came here every year for his birthday. The last time I was here was six years ago. I was twelve. That was the last birthday I spent with him."

"Becca --" I began to apologize for taking her here when she smiled and cut me off.

"You don't have to apologize." I sighed as she reached her hand across the table and grabbed mine gently, intertwining our fingers. "Surprisingly, this restaurant is full of good memories."

I held her hand a little tighter. Becca took a deep breath as she traced idle circles into the condensation on her water glass.

"It's expensive, but my father didn't care. He used to say good food is worth the money." I smiled as she laughed. I don't think I had ever seen her laugh, or even smile, when talking about her father. "Every year we came here for his birthday. We sat in the same booth, ordered the same meal ... It was our thing."

Her gaze returned to mine and she flicked my palm as she said, "Now it can be our thing."

I loved that. I wanted that. Our thing.

The waitress arrived carrying our food and Becca's eyes lit up as she eyed her meal. Our conversation grew silent as we sat there eating, aside from her constant remarks on how mind blowing this food was. I chuckled to myself, eating slowly as I silently admired her when she wasn't paying attention.

Candlelight, moonlight, sunlight -- didn't matter. She looked beautiful in all of them.

Becca's eyes traveled up to my own and she smiled as she caught me watching her. "You're not eating," she said, grabbing her napkin and dabbing the corners of her mouth.

"I'm full," I reassured her, resting my chin on my palm as I continued to watch her. She smiled happily and began eating once more, chatting away in between bites about our upcoming English essay.

Sitting there, I watched Becca helplessly. Everything she did, everything she said, I hung off of every word. All I wanted was to spend every moment like this: with her. Watching the way her eyes lit up as she spoke. Or the way she smiled shyly when she caught me staring.

I wanted to trace the lines of her face every time she blushed and kiss her lips every time they stretched into that brilliant smile of hers.

I had told her that I was full, and I was. My heart felt like it was going to burst every time I looked at her. I was full to my breaking point with indescribable love.

She was my everything. And every second I spent with her was a reminder of that and how absolutely fucking terrifying it was to realize that I had begun to love her more than I had ever loved anyone in my life, even myself.

I would do anything, give anything, for her.

Becca had said that this restaurant would now be our