Memories in Jars

Chapter 12

Author's Note: Ciao! It's FRIDAY! AHH! YAY! I'm in a super good mood, so you should be too.

Let me start off this note by saying that I LOVE THIS CHAPTER.  So much.  So, so, so much.  So you all should too :P

Also, the song on the right goes along with Annabelle's part.  Please listen and enjoy :) It's one of my favorite songs.  

So, yes, please leave my comments with all your Annabelle and Tim and Leigh and Ellis love.  And vote.  

My motivation for this week goes to: Sixpence None the Richer (Kiss Me, Don't Dream It's Over, There She Goes----they're all great).  And, as always, the Shaytards.  And my best friend's developing love story.  Real-life love is so great, isn't it?

Also, this chapter is dedicated to thewritingviolinist, who has posted an amazing story, The Day that Killed Christmas, which is in the Wattys and you should all go check it out because it's amazing.  Thanks :)

Have a lovely weekend, and Friday!

Love,

Kay (dreamer44)

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----- Annabelle -----

            Saturday night, I found myself back in Tim’s basement, “watching a movie”.  Mrs. and Mr. Hansen were upstairs watching their own television show, so Tim and I were safe together—for the moment, at least.

            “Let’s go outside,” Tim said to me, turning off the TV from playing its cheerful compilation of melodies, thanks to the Disney film that had been rolling.  Not that we had been paying it much attention.

            “That’s safe?” I asked him as he stood up from the couch and offered his hand.

            “Sure,” he said, pulling me up.  “We can just tell them we decided to get some fresh air.”

            We walked outside and he closed the screen door, leaving the other door to the basement open so that it wouldn’t look as if we had disappeared.  The backyard was lit by the house’s lights and the moon, and the only sounds were those of crickets and the wind blowing in the trees.  We crossed over to the pool and sat down next to one another, letting our feet dangle in the water.  Using the cover of our thighs, I took his hand and twined our fingers together, smiling at him.

            Suddenly, Tim started singing quietly to himself.  “Nightswimming, remembering that night.  September’s coming soon.”  He looked into my eyes.  “Want to go in?”

            I had been entranced by the sound of his voice, soft and low, wondering what he was singing, but with this suggestion I started.  “I’m not wearing a bathing suit.” I stated.

            “Neither am I,” he replied.

            I grinned, beginning to like this idea.  “Okay then.”  I let go of his hand and stood up, then jumped in, fully clothed, before I could decide otherwise.  When I resurfaced, Tim was grinning at me from the edge of the pool.  He slid in and swam over to the diving board. 

            “Come here,” he said to me, grabbing onto the diving board with one hand for support.

            I kicked over to him and he took me in his free arm.  He brought his lips to mine and kissed me softly.

            The kiss set me off.  I crushed my lips back to his and struggled to straddle him under water.  I felt our bodies sink as Tim moved the hand holding us up to press me against him.  I unwrapped myself from around him and, breathless, said, “We need to get out of here.”