what now? | outerbanks

• twenty-eight •

    "So we don't have to go back to our house with four roommates for our wedding night?!" I tease, leaning over the center console to gaze at my now-husband. I blink rapidly, fluttering my eyelashes and puckering my lips.
    "Nope. Whole rental to ourselves for three days," he says, leaning over quickly to kiss me, keeping his eyes trained on the glistening road.
    "Three whole days?! Look at you, Mr. Kook!"
    "Oh no, no, no. This makes you Mrs. Pogue; no Kooks anymore." I hum in response, holding up my hand to stare at the ring that now feels even more real and representative of his love.
    "Does this count as a honeymoon?" I ask him, peering out the window at the setting sun.
    "Why? Do you want a real honeymoon?" He asks nervously, looking over to watch me wistfully.
    "Not one bit. I just wanna be with the people I love," I say, and he lifts my hand to his mouth, peppering it with kisses. I giggle and prop my sandy feet on the dashboard.
    "I think we can manage that."
    The drive to the rental house isn't long, but the roads are scenic and full of storytelling, so I take in every second of it. Neither of us turn the radio on because we know the other is content with the sweet, childish air that we so generously fill with kisses and laughs.
When we pull up to the house, there isn't a rush; instead, we sit together in the car, staring at the house that's just for us and imagining the life we'll have in the future.
"So, Mrs. Routledge," John B. starts, and I turn my head dramatically to look at him. "Any plans for the rest of the evening?"
I check my wrist for an imaginary watch and then pretend to rifle through thoughts in my head before speaking. "Hm, I think my books are filled. Plans with the husband," I say slyly, pushing the corners of my mouth into a silly frown.
"Can't let you get away that easily." He says, resting his head against his car headrest. "So I have you all to myself?" He's combing his fingers through my hair as he talks, and I'm having a hard time focusing on anything but the electric touch of his skin to mine.
    "Sure do." My words are slow and intentional, and I lean closer to his seat, reaching my hands to trace his jaw and chiseled cheeks. He pulls my face with one of his hands and connects my lips with his. We sit there and kiss for what feels like hours, and I can feel myself getting hot and flushed.
"Why don't we go inside and get unpacked first," I say breathlessly, smoothing my hair and cleaning up my lipstick in the mirror.
"Good idea," he says before exiting the car and opening my door for me, lending me a hand. "I ordered takeout to be delivered, so it should be here soon." He pulls bags out of the trunk of the car, and I lean against the cold metal, watching him.
    "Did Kie and Cleo help you pack?" I ask, and I'm praying they did, nervous that if the task was left up to John B, I'd have mismatched outfits and only enough for a night anyway.
    "Yup. They wouldn't even let me near the bags." We reach the top of the stairs that lead to the white, coastal house, and as John B. opens the door and sets the bags inside, I dramatically sigh out, "Thank God."
    "Excuse me! Do you not trust my judgment?" I giggle and try to get away, but he grabs my waist and swings me in a circle a few times, carrying me into the house and throwing me onto the sofa.
    "I'm kidding! I'm kidding," I plead, my knees writhing and hands flying chaotically, but he pokes and tickles my sides mercilessly and breathlessly peppers my face with continuous kisses. "John B!" I say with a worried look, and fortunately for me, he stops instantly, sporting the same face of worry.
    "What? What's wrong?" I got him! In the second of his gullible stature, I jump off of the couch and run from the boy. He chases after me, occasionally grazing my body with his fingers, but not being able to catch the full me until I turn a rounded corner and he grabs my wrist.
    "You little..." he breathes out heavily, leaning his back against the wall in exhaustion.
    "Tired already?" I tease. "It's only night one." I walk from my side of the hallway to John B. and wrap my arms around his neck sensually, pressing my body flush with his. His mouth opens a little in shock, but only the slightest bit, and something new flickers in his hazel eyes.
    "Def- definitely not tired," he stutters in a daze, and I press my lips into his to shut him up, raking my fingers through his hair.
    "Sarah, not yet; dinner still isn't here," he sighs in between movements.
    "They can leave it on the doorstep." And with that, we're heavy breathing our way down hallways to the master bedroom, losing articles of clothing along the way. I'm the first naked, and even after being with John B. for so long, I can't help but feel a little vulnerable.
    The night is long and incredibly loud, and I'm thankful to have the entire house to ourselves, knowing our friends would have teased us in the morning.
    I use the bathroom and shower, slipping on a pair of underwear and John B's shirt before I go back into the living room. John B has already gotten the dinner from outside and is reheating it so we can eat; he knows I can't stand cold food. I hop up on the marble counters, and the tile is freezing against the back of my thighs, sending a small shiver through my body. John B. looks up for a second before going back to the food, and I just watch him happily, knowing that this is my life now.
    He hands me a bowl of my favorites. "Thank you, baby," I say, kissing him once lightly. He takes my hand and motions for me to get off of the counter.
    "Come eat on the sofa; it's more comfortable." I listen and follow after him, snuggling my body into the crook of one side of the couch. He does the same on the other side so that we can face one another, and I laugh quietly to myself as I look at him across from me, recalling the unspeakable things we did just before this in this same spot.
"So this is it?" I ask him, taking a bite of my food and stirring my fork in my bowl. He sends me a quizzical look, letting me know he's not quite sure what I mean. "This is life now?" He smiles as I ask the second question, and I lean my head against the cushions sleepily.
"This is life now, I guess. You better take advantage of all this peaceful, quiet free time while you still have it," he warns.
"What do you mean, 'While you still have it?'"
"You know, we'll get a dog, have kids soon. We'll get a house and it'll be full and there won't be any peace and quiet." I stuff another bite into my mouth as he talks, but I almost choke when he finishes his sentence.
"John B, kids? I'm only nineteen- it's not time for kids yet."
"Well, I'm just speaking in futuristics. You know- one day, um, we," he tries to backtrack and save himself from his previous words, but he can't manage anything but a stutter, making me giggle.
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Sancho."