Six years ago, Rey Adams thought she had finally life figured out. Having broken away from her past, her life is irrevocably altered when she meets, a man who is the first person to treat her with kindness and respect. Six years later they're engage...
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T-shirts and tank tops: check.
Jeans and shorts: check.
Underwear, bras, and socks: check, check, check!
Wait, what about hoodies? Should I bring more shorts than jeans – maybe sweats? Fuck! How hot is California in the summer, anyway?
Rey heaved a sigh, admiring the various styles of clothing and accessories that should've been neatly folded and nestled inside the suitcase. Instead, it looked like her closet had managed to vomit out every article of clothing she owned onto her bed.
What if she wasn't bringing enough? What if she was bringing too much? What if Ben lived in some rinky-dink single bedroom apartment that couldn't accommodate the fact she was showing up out of the blue with more shit than needed? Or maybe she should just do the 'normal' thing and call him, like any other person would've done after not seeing or hearing from the one they loved for a year.
Yes, one year. Rey had spent twelve long, excruciating months working to pull the pieces of her heart back together. For extra motivational purposes she kept the Polaroid picture taken with Ben during their first impromptu visit to Boulder Creek pinned above the canvas of her easel. During those months of healing she managed to finish Ben's painting as well as the commemorative piece she'd promised to Hux and Finn for Poe's memorial, specifically one that depicted their favorite fly fishing spot at the creek.
Speaking of...
Among the endless number of speeches Rey composed inside her head after considering the numerous possibilities that the reunion with Ben could turn out, she also constructed a eulogy to address before a largely anticipated number of guests that were expected to attend the service held in Poe's memory later that morning.
It suddenly felt like she was facing every fear she'd come to possess in a single day rather than handling them over separate occasions: one being the phobia of speaking in front of large crowds, and the other not knowing what to expect while facing the unexpected. This was, of course, coming from a girl whom ironically traveled across the Atlantic alone, to a country that was completely foreign to her in essence.
"How's the packing coming along?" Finn asked, announcing his presence upon entering through the open doors to her room.
"Great, actually," Rey snorted, giving Finn a look that easily contradicted her words. "Then, again," she frowned, drawing her bottom lip with an incisor as she looked to the empty luggage on her bed, "not so much."
Finn craned his neck, sneaking a peak at the inside of her suitcase from where he came to stand at the corner foot of her bed. Aside from the 16"x20" canvas covered with a plain twin-sized sheet propped against the luggage's outer side, it was pretty much empty. No, it was empty. "I'd say," he admitted, agreeing with a little shrug. "But he just might like you wearing nothing but the sheet."
