A/N: Hey, everyone! Sorry this chapter's so short, but with this story, I think I want to use one set of letters for each chapter. Maybe there will be closer updates this way. Anyway, enjoy!

Chapter Two

"Christine! Letter!"

It was noon on my lunch break when Cindy stopped me just before I took a bite out of my burger.

"Letter? Who would…" Then it hit me. Maybe it was a letter from Erik!

"Give it!" I practically lunged at Cindy before she handed me the white envelope. I felt like I was getting accepted into some IV League college as I tore it open.

"Geez, Christine. It's just a letter." She didn't get it. I had waited a whole two weeks for this sheet of paper, and it was when one week passed by that I thought he had forgotten about me.

I sat down at the bar and started to read the elegant hand writing.

Dear Christine,

Sorry it's taken me so long to write; I hardly have time to. I'm in California right now and we're going to train for a month before they send us to Vietnam. It's brutal out here! We wake up before the sun and they inspect us to be at our up most neatness. Now, I'm a pretty neat person, but this is ridiculous! They've got us shining our shoes everyday after working in the mud for hours.

I couldn't help but laugh at the image of Erik scrubbing away at his shoes. Although, the image of him working out made me grin.

I really shouldn't be complaining, though; I bet Vietnam's 100x worse. I don't like to think about it. I've tried to be tough and all, but the thought of fighting or taking another man's life doesn't sit well with me. A part of me hopes I get injured so they'll send me home. I even tried to find loopholes in the system, like deformities I might have so they won't send me at all. Unfortunately, I have arches in my feet and I'm perfectly healthy.

Despite the serious subject, found the humor in everything. It made me feel better about being separated, knowing he saw the good in things.

Food's no good either,Well, most things I guess, and we're only in California. I'm starting to miss you and your burgers. What I would do for a milkshake right now! But above the food, I miss you.

Is it bad that the words "I miss you" can stop my heart?

I really appreciate you talking to me and everything, it really calmed me down. Like I said at the pier, I don't have anyone, not anyone worth writing to, anyway. When we talked it just felt right, like I could tell you about anything. To be honest, I've never really opened up like that, but I liked it. I also liked that kiss. Sorry if I'm offending you by saying so, like hell I was, but it won't leave my head I just had to get it out.

On another subject, maybe we should get to know each other since we're sending letters and all.

I really hadn't thought about the fact that we were strangers, I felt like I knew him inside out.

My name is Erik Devereux, my birthday is June 25, 1955, and I live on the outskirts of Charleston, South Carolina. I play five instruments: the piano, the guitar, the violin, the cello, and the drums. I also compose if I have time. I graduated in the top ten percentage of my class in May and when I get back from this war I plan on going to the College of Charleston. I don't smoke and I only drink on holidays. This sounds good, yes? God, I feel like I'm writing a resume. Maybe I'll give you some dirt…

Well, my greatest weakness is procrastination and I get distracted rather easily. The only reason I got any work done was to get out of the hellhole I was born into. I'm a horrible person to get along with because I'm dangerously shy and when I get the courage to talk, I spit out nonsense about unrelated topics. My nickname in high school was Volcano Face Erik, because of my horrible acne, and girls fled from me like the plague.

But now, I'm out of school, on the way to a war I know little about, and I have no idea what to do with myself. Of course, after all of these 'life-changing' experiences that I'm supposed to go through, I'm sure life will wake me up.

I could tell he was being sarcastic and it even made me smile a little.

On a lighter note, I'm counting down the days until I receive a letter from you and I'd love it if you told me more about yourself; we barely got a chance to talk at the pier. Thank you for reading my letter.

Sincerely,

Erik

I'd never received a letter other than birthday cards or party invitations, so I read it through about fifteen times to find any hidden comments I may have missed. I swear, in an hour I had the whole thing memorized.

But reading it continuously didn't help my situation at all.

What was I going to write!?

I sat on my bed and read Erik's letter once more before I walked to my desk to start writing. Quickly, I grabbed a piece of paper and a fountain pen and began to write my first letter. I subconsciously cringed at my scrawled handwriting.

Dear Erik,

Thank you for the letter.

No! That sounds stupid! I crumbled up the paper and grabbed another.

Dear Erik,

I enjoyed the kiss too.

Am I insane!? I threw that one away as well.

Dear Erik,

I was so glad to get your letter!

Hmmm, I guess I could keep this one.

What does California look like? Random, but I've never been anywhere outside of the state. Does it look any different from our coast? Even though you make it sound like you're having a miserable time, it's still exciting that you're exploring a new place. I haven't even moved houses! As for the rest of Charleston, it's all the same, except Tony, the diner's chef, got a brand new milkshake twirler! Everyone's been ordering them like crazy so business is busy. I think I've even worked up muscle like you have in boot camp! Speaking of which, I'm glad to hear you're enjoying it so much! Maybe when you come home, all you have to do is relax. I'll even bring you something appetizing! Then you can tell me all about your 'experiences' in war with your witty sarcasm. And no, your sarcasm doesn't insult or offend me; neither did your comment about our kiss. I liked It, too.

I more than liked it.

So I guess it's my turn to spill my guts. Thanks a lot.

Let's see. I'm Christine Darling, my birthday is January 29, 1957, and I live in the heart of Charleston. I'm still a sophomore in high school so I can't say if I'm in the top percentage of my class, but I can say that I have never gotten a C on a report card! I'm very proud of that fact. I don't play an instrument, but I do sing and I'm a soprano in my school choir. Unlike you, I have never been called a geek, but I have been called a wallflower at times. I, too, can get pretty shy, which is ironic, because my best friend is the most outgoing person I know. I've never smoked and I've only had one glass of wine in my entire life; I don't like the taste of liquor. My parents keep me under 24-hour surveillance, so I'd never get away with it anyway.

"Christine!" Oh no.

"Yes, Mother?" I never called her Mom; I was never that close to her.

"What are you writing? That better be summer homework!"
"Yes, Mother, it is," I replied like a zombie.

"Then why does it look like a letter?" Uh oh.

"It's a letter to our future selves. You know, to see if we achieved our goals later in life." I sweated hoping my lie worked. If she found out it was a guy, I would have been locked in my room for the rest of summer.

"Alright." I thought she left, but I was disappointed to hear her speak again. "Chelsea is coming home tomorrow."

"That's nice," I lied. Chelsea, my older sister, was coming home from college in Virginia. She was the down right devil! If I could run away from anyone, it would be my sister. She's the one who made my mother like this in the first place.

"Get your room cleaned! It's a mess!" With her final command, she finally left me alone with my writing.

That's another sad fact about me: I'm a prisoner in my own home. I may have told you this at the pier, but it's suffocating here. But that's a whole separate story.

Anyway, I have to go 'clean my room' or I'll be locked away in the tallest tower for the rest of my existence. I'm anticipating your next letter! I have an idea, though. You have to tell me a story about your life. Let's start with childhood: What is your favorite memory as a baby, and why?

Make sure to answer the question and have one ready for me as well!

Sincerely,

Christine

That went well, I think.

A/N: How'd you like it? Would you rather have longer chapter with long periods of time in between or shorter chapters sooner? Review, por favor! Love you guys!