-CHAPTER TWENTY THREE-
SIGNIFICANT OTHER
Monday November 23 2009
CHRISTIAN
FRESHLY DRIED AFTER OUR BATH Ana dressed for the day, while I refused. My towel seemed suffice. We laid on Mia's bed, our fingers entwined together, staring into each other's eyes. Ana rolled on top of me, straddling my waist as I held my white fluffy towel for protection.
My finger made the journey down her opened zipper and her burgundy panties caught my attention. Instantly my cock strained within my towel as its only barrier. Her cheeks grew tight and my eyes began to narrow, as a little V formed between her brows. Suddenly the emergence of sound escaped her lips. Happiness. It was magical. The giggle from heaven, extremely amusing. Every time she tried to suppress the snicker it increased its energy.
I tried my best to distract her by brushing my fingers over her skin between her legs.
Soft thick hair.
She frowned. Was she upset with my last finger action? No Pixie, thinking to myself while my head shook back and forth.
"Don't start," the laughter halted. "I know they don't fit! It makes sense now why my clothes were getting tight."
Agreeing I only smiled. Our babies.
"Hey, I don't understand why you got dressed?" I hummed as my hands continued to stroke her pubic hair.
Ana grew a shade of pink and rolled off my barrier shifting to the other side of the bed.
I couldn't help but admire the woman before me. Even embarrassed with a hint of shyness, she was beautiful.
"What am I to you?" I casually spoke.
"Christian?" she giggled.
"No, I'm being serious Ana," I voiced slightly aggravated.
At a standstill, I refused to loosen my towel's grip.
"I poured my soul to you, Ana." the air hitched at the back of my throat.
"I love—" holding back the word, a weak sigh escaped me. "Ana, I'm in love with you... How do you honestly feel about me? You need to tell me. Like now."
I hope I wasn't begging or even being too demanding but I had taken enough. It was giving me a headache.
"I … a… I.." at once she lost all ability to speak full sentences and my loving bubble was beginning to pop.
"Am I your boyfriend?" feeling the blood drain from my face, "Ana, I most definitely see you as my girlfriend." I grabbed her hand and kissed it.
Her eyes were following my every movement. Clear and precise, especially as my lips embraced her hand.
"Christian, I need to think about it…" fingers curling around her necklace. "No, I don't want you as my boyfriend."
She shook her head and I swear I my nuts shrank to the size of raisins. Should I leave?
"Don't you believe the term is a little outdated? Almost puerile."
"Oh my Pixie, extending her vocabulary. Hang on… why not? I'm your boyfriend!"
"We're not twelve, Christian! Come on, next year we will be Twenty and… parents." She whispered the final word as if it were sin.
"Christian, referring to you as a boy doesn't sit right with me."
"Hell no! It's not outdated, I'm a boyfriend! Your boyfriend in fact. End of discussion," my voice rose making Ana flinch.
"No, I don't think so. And I guess you want me barefoot and pregnant." I looked at her naked feet and my eyes rolled. "Ok that was far from a good example. This is far from the end of our discussion. I dislike boyfriend, especially girlfriend." She took a deep breath pacing the room. "Christian," she lowered her voice "How about… partner?" she ruffled my hair.
It was so soothing giving me goosebumps down my neck.
"No…" I screwed up my face. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I tried my best to distract myself. "That's Ros."
"So…Other half?" Ana began to nod.
"Are you serious? We're not a puzzle." titling my head to the side.
Ana fell back on to the bed, arms resting behind her head. She made the bed wobble as her feet twitched and wiggled.
"C?" she melodically sung my nickname.
"Hmmm," looking at the ceiling with her wondering what she was about to summon.
"Do you like SO… as in Significant Other?" She rolled onto her side, leaning on her elbow.
With a single head tap I nodded, lips closed and a blank expression over my face.
I did like it to an extent, 'Significant Other,'
I repeated it subconsciously, emphasizing different syllables.
Sig-nificant other.
Sig-ni-ficant oth-er.
Significant other.
Significant Significant…
Other Other Other…
Thoughts impaired, I was about to explode.
Still it's undisclosed, it could mean we are just fucking to being married. If that was all I'm getting, I was taking it. It was better than spouse. I shuddered at the thought.
"You ok?" she rubbed my cheek, hearing the scratching sound of my stubble, with the pad of her thumb. All I could think about was biting it and holding her down on the bed! Keep it together Christian.
Ana quickly looked at Mia's pink Kit Kat clock above the head of the bed. Its eyes were adorned with rhinestones looking left, right and repeat.
"Shit… I need to get going or I'm going to miss my bus."
"What? The day's only started. Did you say bus!" I groaned in a non sexy way.
"I'm seeing Ray…" I gave her a stern look.
"My step-father, Jesus Christian." instantly placing a hand on either hip. "He lives in Montesano."
In between her brows, she made at cute little V and a slight pout formed.
"Christian, don't give me sexy eyes. I'm being serious. I don't have a car and hey, don't say bus like it's a pauper's disease."
Trying to speak I was deliberately cut off again, with a single finger rolling around my collarbone. "And don't you dare Christian Grey. You are not driving me, my ticket is reserved. He's expecting me at the bus shelter." looking at her imaginary watch. "4:32pm to be precise."
"Really! It's going to take over fives hours! This is a joke. Right?" my voice broke with the utter shock at how long it will take.
She held her ground. Left hand on her hip and right index finger in between her teeth. If I only could be between those lips.
"Well… my dear. Independent significant other," I hooked my brow, "Will you at least allow me the privilege to escort you to the Bellevue Transit Center?"
She jumped up and hooked her legs around my waist as my towel landed around my ankles.
"Thank you, Oh Christian Grey…" her voice melted into a husky mess.
"My… girlfriend" she slapped my backside, "Significant Other." my throat moaned on her lips.
…..
ANASTASIA
THE MOMENT CHRISTIAN'S LIPS left mine, unraveled the bus trip from hell.
Three Greyhounds! Why hadn't I taken Christian's offer?
You wanted to be an independent adult, Anastasia! It didn't help he had his hand down your pants most of the morning.
After fighting, mostly being overcome by morning sickness on two of the three hauls, I tried my best to snack from Grace's instruction.
"Try your best to have small frequent meals. I've packed some dry crackers, chips, carrot and celery sticks. A salad sandwich is hiding somewhere in the bag too. Ana, don't forget to drink water, especially with all your vomiting you must hydrate, so little sips, dear." Her hand brushed back my wispy loose hair. It was therapeutic and comforting. "Most importantly, Ana, remember to rest." She embraced me with a warm hug. The little moments like this I wished my mother was alive.
It was always easier said than done.
…..
SCANNING MY CELL for the fourth time, it was well past five in the evening. The sun was tucked behind the mountains as the temperature began mimicking the dusky sky, cold and miserable.
"Just great and I don't have another jacket." I made a poor attempt foraging through my bag, "or gloves. Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck!" raising my hands in defeat.
The bus station was long empty. Only a small light was glowing a murky burnt orange. Where was Ray? I pulled on my necklace with each small ring twisted in between my fingers. Never in my memory had Ray ever been anything but early. It was embarrassing throughout high school but I appreciated it. It made me feel safe, which was what I needed at the time.
Calling for the third time, the home number dialed out and his cell went straight to voicemail.
"Raymond Steele busy. Leave a message." his gurgly tenor voice dominated my left ear.
"Ah, Daddy?" my answer sounded more like a question as the beep caught me off guard. "Umm, I'm at the bus station… waiting. It's 5:15. I'll try again soon. Oh it's Annie. Love you."
Trying for a fourth time but of course only the dreaded voicemail.
"Fuckity Fuck Fuck!" I cursed out loud.
Opening up a new message, I quickly punched the keys with my thumbs. I was so aggravated I had to edit the message, I can't stand incorrect letters and punctuation.
Am I the only one in the world worried about periods, commas and question marks in a text message?
ANA (drafts):SO I miss you. The bus trips were horrendous. I have a new skill of holding large quantities of vomit in my hands & chip packets. My dad isn't here to get me, I can't get through to him. Have I told you I miss you? SO x A
Squinting at the small screen, my eyes furrowed and stomach sunk. Christian would go berserk. Actually, of course he could be worse and never deliberating the consequences. Hurdling into the drivers seat of any vehicle with at least four working wheels, he would be speeding to catch the setting sun in the little town of Montesano.
Urgently, I moved the message to the trash folder and permanently deleting the text from existence. Instead, Christian received a simple thought.
ANA: I made it. SO A x.
CHRISTIAN: I'm glad to hear. Love you. Miss you SO. C x
I rummaged through the graffitied payphone for something resembling a phone book. Damp, worn and a few pieces of gum on the side, the book was loosely held by a small chain but ironically not attached to anything. I flicked multiple pages, alternating my line of sight from left to right, back and forth. Swiftly, the letter causing me difficulties was discovered. L. My index finger cold and cramped slid down to the only Liber in the book.
My last hope.
Trying to be optimistic, this will be my only mode of transport so I won't need to attempt the shifty cab service.
"Hello, you have reached the number of Ms Rebekah Liber. I am unable to answer your call, if you leave your—"
With no point leaving a clumsy bumbling reply, I ended the call.
"God damn it!" I roared in the small metal box, almost throwing my cell, at the last moment gripping it within my cold fist. "Why doesn't anyone have their god damn cells on in the town! Ahhhh!"
I was disgusted at one point, almost breaking down. Without deliberation, I made the call. My cell almost flat, I pushed two quarters into the payphone slot. There was no way I was allowing my last line of defense going dead if my cab driver is a creep.
…..
THIRTY-SEVEN MINUTES LATER, I finally made it to the loose stone drive. A few missed turns and the creepiness of theremin melodies on the radio, I made it in one piece.
"Missy, that will be $12.42" The driver grinned showing his inflamed gums and mouth sores around his parched lips. My hands shook as I passed over 15 bucks, trying my best not to touch his scaling skin.
"En-n-enjoy the ch-change…" my voice shuddered and fingers trembled.
He popped the trunk and I removed my bag. Quickly slamming the trunk door, I tapped it to move him on his way. The driver delayed for a moment, wiggling his eyes in the rear view mirror. Holding my breath while counting to twenty, he finally drove off as I released the warm air from my tired lungs.
Thank fuck for that.
It was dark, eerily quiet. Strangely, the house was a lit like the sun with porch, lounge, dining rooms and bedrooms on the second level, glowing.
I gazed at the car parked in the drive. It was relatively new, I didn't realize Daddy bought a car. Since when does he remotely like Chevrolet's? A Malibu to be precise. Of all colors, purple. Who in their right mind own a purple car?
Daddy apparently. Must be having a midlife crisis or something along those lines of crazies.
As my feet moved up the nine steps, the wood creaked under my weight. The house hasn't changed. I moved to the once white day lounger. A special place where white flour, our old cat resided every sundown when I was a little girl. Hooking my legs under my backside I closed my eyes.
The chaotic sounds of wind chimes filled my ears. The random melodies moved in the evening breeze. The clattering of cutlery, keys, ceramics, metal, crystals and bamboo chimes. The little memories of Mom, too many to count, but it was home.
My eyes popped open noticing Mom's crystal and fairy gardens. A few more spider webs than I could remember, but everything was still the same. Small mushroom homes within large painted terracotta pots embellished with river stones and quartz. Seven moss fairy home hangings swung like pendulums in the slight gust. These small things flooded my mind with happy memories. Memories of Mom.
"White-ee Flour, come here," the old cat walked along the front porch. Always planting herself on our large white day lounger.
White Flour curled her long silky black body, anchoring herself between the two large cushions. Her pure white face, neck and front two paws faced the setting sun. She is a highlight to watch every afternoon.
"Momma." I whispered trying to find my mother. "Momma?"
"Here, Annie."
She popped her head up behind the arm rest of the chair. Mother patted the chair, welcoming me to sit with her and the black and white cat.
"Sit where White Flour sits. Cross your toes, close your eyes and smell a rose which is oh so sweet. Annie, baby girl, say under your breath with me."
Sitting on the day lounger we looked eye to eye, hand in hand, gripping the freshly picked pink rose. In unison, we spoke with our soft calm voices the words for the fairies to appear.
"I believe in fairies,
sure as death.
Gadflykins! Gladtrypins!
Gutterpuss and Cass!
Come to me fairy
Each lad and lass!"*
The bittersweet memory of Mom was cut short to heavy bass music rattling the windows. Was that Chris Isaak?
Ok Ana, it's time to face the music, in more ways than one.
My fist knocked on the heavy wooden door. Sighing that reality will hit soon, no Mom and telling Daddy I'm pregnant.
I'm not sure if it was relief or dread. There was silence. No answer, no movement, just the haunting voice of Chris Isaak.
What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way
What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you…
Trying for a second and third time, I gave up and hoped Dad left the spare key on the porch. Looking for the little pot, it was clear he hadn't removed it. Holding up the pot with the terrible brush strokes, with dribbles of painted words "No Flowers Only Pars-key," I couldn't help but let out a small giggle at the terrible disguise which is in plain view for the neighborhood.
Entering the house, the unforgettable words continued to be sung by Chris Isaak.
I want to fall in love.
No, I want to fall in love.
With you…
Everything was still in its place. Nothing had changed since I had left for college. I turned the sound system off, ejecting the CD. It was burnt with the hand written scribble 'R & R Playlist', but it was most definitely not R and R music, or even R 'n' B either. Finding a case with ten tracks, I was puzzled with the eclectic song choices ranging from Jeff Buckley, to The Beatles.
Holding the polished balustrade at the first step of the staircase, I called out to my father wondering where the hell he was.
Of course there was no reply.
Tip toeing up the steps, there were mumblings and a slight scream coming from his master bedroom. It was difficult to identify if it was Dad or possibly a female. Immediately looking around, I grabbed the largest thing I could hold. The old amethyst carnival glass vase. My heart was pounding as the muffled sounds were getting louder.
Grasping the handle, my palm grew sweaty and my hand holding the vase started to slip.
Ok breathe Ana, your father isn't murdering anyone. He's just watching a movie… on his non existent laptop. Oh god! No maybe someone is murdering Dad. Shit!
Each digit began to shake. Why was I so nervous? A small click sounded as the lock unlatched and the door swung opened silently. The view in front of me could not be unseen. It was burnt onto the back of my corneas, which I hope was not for all eternity. No matter how many times I rubbed circles to clear the image from my eyes, the deed was continuing. Half on the bed, half on the rug and one leg slightly pointing out to the side.
They were moaning loudly together and I could only decipher part of their limited conversation.
"Psst, Ray. Why has the music stopped? Your neighbors will hear us like last time."
"It's ok. Don't stop, Bug."
And the slight thrusting with a twisting continued.
My step-father. The only male figure I've ever had in my life. A role model to an extent. Well this role model of mine was meticulously pounding a brunette from behind called "Bug".
As I stood in the doorway, all I could see were entwined naked bodies, sweat dripping down arms, legs, backs and a large booty up in the air. The unidentified woman's flowing curls flicked around in a circular motion unaware of what was about to unfold.
"Oh dear lord! Fuck. Annie. Shit!" Daddy's voice hitched and stopped abruptly as he noticed my jaw wide open studying their bodies.
Glancing at the vase in my hand, I made the better choice. It was Mom's favorite. Carefully placing it in the center of the doorway, I tried to step back and turn around.
What was I even witnessing? I couldn't believe it. Even when Mom was alive I never caught them in the act.
Stupidly, I took a second glance. My eyes couldn't move away as they were glued to their naked bodies.
Sweet baby Jesus, I think I need therapy!
"Annie?" Daddy gasped for a full breath but continued to quaff the woman from behind. "Close the door!"
Fuck, fuckity, fuck.
Making a false start almost tripping my feet, I sprinted towards the staircase. Descending with the grace of a boar in heels, the house overpoweringly smelled like foul lemons. Immediately, a violent force crept up my esophagus halting at the back of my tongue. Heavily breathing, my nostrils flared and eventually the scent tapered. Thank God.
Even at breaking point, my mind was on a collision course a million miles a minute. Of all things I thought of, food. My stomach complemented the idea as Momma's pancakes visually appeared.
Damn, I must be hungry!
Each step towards the kitchen I noticed a large handbag, a small black sweater, and a pair of women's heels. Why weren't these visible before? Damn, the car. It must be hers!
As my left foot touched the cool stone floors of the kitchen, lemons filled my nostrils as I stared at the full basket of citrus. With a quick move of picking up the wire basket, I lunged to the back door. Trying my best not to throw the fruit on the deck, my body decided to remove what little contents in my stomach to land all over my father's trash cans neatly lined at the edge of the railing.
I think I may have just lost my mind. Crying out while dry heaving "Oh my God," and "I just caught my dad fucking a woman with a really good looking ass".
Beyond the level of nervous and a crazy level of humiliation, I rummaged the drawers of the kitchen for some kind of cloth. Several red and white towels caught my eye and I wiped my face, hopefully leaving no vomit remnants behind.
What am I going to do, because everything had been going so well to this point. I know, play it cool… like nothing had happened. Diving for the oversized couch, I snatched the closest reading material and lifted it up to my face.
Just great!
Basic Slaughtering Skills for the Beginner. Diagrams of cutting a bull to a sheep. Flicking the pages… I gasped, even goats! This made my stomach roil and I was sure it had nothing to do with my pregnancy.
Moments later, the woman ran down the stairs. Clearly I tried to read avoiding all interaction.
The woman sniffled as she called out to me, "Eum amo Anastasia."
Was that latin?
Lowering the heavy text, there at the front door was Ms Rebekah Liber. My old faithful English teacher from high school. Oh my God, she looks beautiful… and seriously embarrassed. Refusing to make further conversation, she ran out of the house. But I was mortified and curled further into the soft couch.
The calls of my father made me look to the top of the stairs. He was embarrassed, glowing a heated shade of red.
Or maybe it was because he had hot sex only minutes ago. Gross. Therapy! I'm going to need loads of therapy!
He gripped the railing as his feet left a heavy thud after every step. Daddy tried his best to catch her only in his jeans, taking a slight tumble on the third and final steps. Calling out to Rebekah, he repeated "Bug, Bug… it's ok." But suddenly stopped at the opened door, I noticed his biceps were bulging. Trying not to stare, I was amazed to see more muscle over his torso and back.
Whoa, my Daddy was buff. Hang on when did he get buff? He was a carpenter not an underwear model!
"Daddy, I need you to put a shirt on. I can't make eye contact."
"You weren't suppose to meet like this." he mumbled to himself.
Lowering my head, I glared at a large knife stabbing a defenseless animal's throat. Mortified, more images on the next page of freshly cut sides of beef were glaring at my face. Oh God, the slaughtering book. I didn't want to see anymore. My shaking hands slammed it shut. The loud clap as the pages punched together made me rise to attention, though the sheer weight of the book made my wrists ache. Trying my best, I threw the vile thing in the direction of the coffee table and failed.
"This is so very wrong, on way too many levels any daughter should need to mention," shaking my head unsure if I was referring to what was seen upstairs or in my lap.
A thick sticky saliva built in my mouth, I tried my best to chock down the syrupy liquid.
All he did was laughed, "Annie…" scratching his scalp. Even though his curls were a shade of salt and pepper it gave him a look of youth. "Yeah, I'm truly sorry about that… I didn't realize the time. You weren't waiting too long—" I closed my eyes taking a slow breath.
"Dad, shirt. Like, Now!" Being curt with my father wasn't a trait I usually used. My finger pointing up the stairs made my action clear.
"Yes ma'am." he saluted with a belly laugh.
I'm assuming this was pure enjoyment on his part. A grown man being told by his teenaged daughter after being caught in the act. I swear it should be the other way around. Brushing it off with a slight shrug, my eyes couldn't help to complement my shoulders with a little fluttering roll.
Daddy jogged up stairs, his steps were light and bouncy Clearly, it was a stark contrast from when he was making his decent only minutes earlier.
…..
THE EVENING PROGRESSED and our awkwardness dissipated. We both made it clear no mentioning the incident ever again. A total hard limit for both of us, even if we were on our death beds.
We got talking into the night. He mentioned how R & R were formed. Seemingly both Ray and Rebekah met at the gym. This clearly explains his buffness. Even though they have known each other for years only as "Annie's teacher" and "The single father," I could see in his eyes what she meant to him. I hadn't seen Daddy's little spark since Mom was alive.
"Baby girl, there are a few things in my bedroom that were your Mother's. You need to choose what you want to do with them."
"But, they are yours." he shook his head.
"Your mother gave me something important and that's all I need." he looked directly into my eyes.
"Hey don't look at me like that, you sappy dude." I wiped the stray tear.
My cell vibrated probably for the tenth time since we had dinner. Looking at the screen, it was Christian again. I couldn't help but blush at his cute messages, is this guy even real?
"Kate?"
"Huh?" I was caught unguarded.
"Is that Kate girl hassling you… or is she being inappropriate again?"
"What… No!" brushing him off, placing my cell back into my pocket.
"As long as it's Kate, I'm happy."
"Umm yeah," I awkwardly laughed, excusing myself from the table. "I might see what's in your room if that's ok?"
"Yeah sure." he dragged the chair and began to wash up.
…..
I HAD A QUEASY FEELING entering the room I had caught Dad hours before with a woman, other than my mother. It was inevitable. It had been over three years, I guess Dad was ready to move on.
Opening the closet, only a few items of clothing were left. Mom's two favorite cable sweater/coats, a few bohemian shirts, scarves, some odd eclectic jewelry and a box.
"Anastasia Rose. Anastasia's eyes only." I mumbled slightly confused.
Placing the box beside me, now wasn't the time to open it. Out of curiosity, I crawled to Mom's bedside table. All the drawers were empty except the top.
There was a single item. A new book. A soft cover, but the cover wasn't bent so it hadn't been read as yet.
Daddy bought a book?
"Hey, don't look at it like that!" the tenor voice made me slightly slip onto my hip.
Looking at the book, I couldn't believe it.
"Daddy… you didn't" shaking my head in disbelief.
"I certainly did. Your Momma's favorite…" it tore at my heart. Mom's death broke him and he still tries to cling onto something even though he wouldn't want to admit it.
"Which one? She had many favorites." I informed my father.
"Well, turn it over," flipping it over I gasped, "she always read these poems to me, The Song of Despair by Neruda." Dad only could nod. "I wrote something in the cover."
My lips mouthed the beautiful words. There were grief and ruins, and you were the miracle.**
"Annie, I'm trying really hard to let your Mom go. She's still apart of me, but—"
"Is this for Rebekah?"
"Well, I was interrupted… of course yes, she is starting to fill the empty void."
"Since when have you become a poet lover? You make furniture." I laughed so hard I needed to go to the bathroom. "Hold that thought" I pointed my finger towards the bathroom, "pee break."
"That's all you've done since you've been home. Pee, eat and hold your breath at the look of lem—"
Cutting him off before he had the chance, I needed to go urgently.
"Hey Annie… it's good to see you've put on weight. You've been working too hard since you started college. You need to get some beef on those ribs. Baby girl, why were my lemons outside?"
All I could do was breathe easy through my nose.
"Just throw them out, ok. I've been having a reaction to them lately. I think it would be best to just keep them at bay."
"Your mother always had a love hate relationship with lemons." he giggled like a little school girl.
"Dad…" my hand went to my mouth
"Sorry… yellow fruit?" he rolled his eyes. "Your mother said she couldn't be near them within a ten mile radius when she was pregnant with you and…" he lifted his head to the ceiling straining to keep the tears at bay.
"Daddy it's been a big day… I need to pee and go to bed, I'm pooped." I blew him a kiss and grabbed the box.
"Hey, do you have a man in your life… say a boyfriend?" he hooked his brow.
"Dad, I can say there is no boyfriend on the horizon." Well I was telling the truth… sort of.
"Good, because I thought I might need to get my gun collection out. Hey, what's with the lem— I mean yellow fruit. Annie you're not pregnant?"
"I'm not having this conversation. I love you Daddy, we'll talk in the morning."
And just like that I dodged a huge bullet. Well, until tomorrow morning.
A/N:
Here are a few things which I reference in the chapter:
1. "The Fairy Call - "Pressed Fairy Book" by Lady Cottingley. I have changed a few things but all credit is to COTTINGLEY. It can be found here - goo . gl /o9Xt1X
2. The Song of Despair by Pablo Neruda.
Here is that wonderful R & R PLAYLIST (Raymond and Rebekah):
1. Lover, You Should've Come Over - JEFF BUCKLEY
2. Wicked Game - CHRIS ISSAK
3. Colorblind - COUNTING CROWS
4. No Ordinary Love - SADE
5. The Power of Love - HUEY LEWIS & THE NEWS
6. Somebody to Love - QUEEN
7. I'm on Fire - BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN
8. Need you tonight - INXS
9. Hallelujah - JEFF BUCKLEY
10. Here comes the sun - THE BEATLES
If you had the chance making a playlist with your (or future) significant other what would you included? Tell me in the reviews as I am interested to find out! It was a challenge making this list as I needed songs pre-2009, and also songs which would have been popular when Ray/Rebekah were younger. It was a Challenge and a half!
Thank you for reading the new reworked/beta-ed "Misplaced & Found." If you haven't already done so, please favourite, follow, review and PM me regarding any M&F questions or concerns. See you next week for chapter 24 and this weekend for chapter 2 of His Last Acquisition.
missmusicteach
