The Fisherman's Daughter.

Chapter 2

I have loved Layne since we were children. He is one of my brother Erik's oldest and closest friends. We met when I was eight and he was twelve. Layne had come to the coast with his parents that summer, and he and Erik met at the pier's arcade. Erik brought him home to our house one afternoon to pick up boogie boards and fishing poles. I fell in love with Layne at first sight. He had bright blonde hair and a mischievous smile.

Layne and I don't have the typical story of unrequited young love. There is no "young girl follows after her brother's best friend and he ignores her until he realizes she is beautiful" kind of story. I was quiet and preferred to read alone on the beach instead of chasing after Erik and Layne. But Layne would always find me at my secluded spot and lay with his head in my lap as I read and played with his hair. We have always known that we have a connection. And we have put that connection to the test a few times in our youth.

I knew that he had made it big with his band, and my high school friends and I used to make the two hour drive from Westport to Seattle to catch a few of his shows when they were in town. I'd stand in the audience and marvel at the persona he invoked when he was on stage. He and Erik have stayed close and all I know as I sit here in his lap staring into his eyes is that I have missed him dearly and that once again, the time is not right for us.

I throw my arms around his neck and hug him tightly to me. I bury my face in his neck and inhale deeply. Even though his jacket smells like alcohol and cigarettes, the smell of his skin is familiar and comforting. He smells exactly the same as when we were young: like warm summer nights and salty sea air. Layne smells like home.

He chuckles and squeezes me tightly in return. He pulls his head away from me a bit to look into my eyes, but I keep my arms wrapped around his neck, not wanting to let him go.

I hold my breath as he bends his head towards me then leans forward, almost touching his nose to my mouth. My heart beats fast and hard at the thought that he might kiss me but I hear him make a dramatic sniffing sound then he pulls away from me, a smile plays on his lips.

"Have you been drinking?" He asks me quietly. "Is that why you just bit my ear?" He adds playfully.

Sitting on his lap and the soft tone of his voice makes me sweat and the heat rises to my cheeks. I want to take the cap off his head and run my hands through the wild, blonde waves I know are captured underneath.

"I thought you were my boyfriend, Tom. His band is opening tonight." I explain, not wanting him to think that I bite random men's ears.

He laughs and then says in a low voice, "too bad, I have been waiting for this day since you turned eighteen."

"Pervert." I say back to him and giggle, then I lean forward and rub my nose against the tip of his nose. He chuckles and squeezes me to him in a tight hug again then starts to bounce me on his legs.

I hug him back then slide off his lap to an empty chair next to him. Layne leans forward towards me with his elbow on his knees and says over the loud music, "So this boyfriend of yours, is his band any good?"

I'm still pretty buzzed from the drinks and my fingers itch to keep touching him, any part of him. I reach up and trace my finger along the gold threading of the "Ministry" text that is embroidered into his hat. After a minute I say, "Um, yeah, they are... uh...good." I say hesitantly.

"Uh oh." Layne says back and a mischievous smile plays on his lips. "That bad, huh?"

"No, they are just still trying to find their sound." I reply.

Layne laughs heartily and says, "you have always been too kind for your own good, Ana."

He rises from his chair and tells me he will grab us a couple of drinks before the show starts. I lean back and watch him as he makes his way through the crowd to the bar. Layne has always been comfortable anywhere he goes and makes friends with everyone. When we were young, he always knew which ice cream stands would give us the biggest scoops of ice cream and he could sweet talk any of the older women at the salt water taffy store for an extra handful. I smile, watching him make friends with the bartender and realize he hasn't changed a bit.