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Chapter Five
Point of View: Krystal


"I didn't mean your house," I whined when Nick pulled into his driveway. I was thoroughly disappointed. I thought he would have had more creativity than this, which was why I'd let him decide to begin with. I was going to say the aquarium when he asked, but then I thought nah, maybe Nick can think of something better. Evidently, he was as boring as any other patient in that waiting room.

I made a mistake.

Or at least I thought I had.

"This is just stop number one," he answered. "I gotta get my gear."

"Your what?"

"My gear. Wait here."

Without waiting for a response, he climbed out of the car and ran up the walk to his front door, unlocked it, and went inside. I sat there, staring at the door for a moment after he'd disappeared, and wondered what gear he needed. I looked at the clock on his radio, glowing all green, and reached for the volume knob. A CD was loaded, and I wanted to know what NIck Carter, the Backstreet Boy, listens to on his days off.

I was shocked to hear Steve Perry's voice.

If I can't believe that someone is true
To fall in love is so hard to do
I hope and pray tonight
Somewhere you're thinking of me girl

When you love a woman
You see your world inside her eyes
When you love a woman
Know she's standing by your side...

"You like Journey?" he asked, appearing at the side of the car with a huge duffle bag. I looked up at him as the music cackled through the speakers.

"Actually, I do," I answered. Nick smiled and hoisted the bag into the backseat. I looked at it, all bulging and huge-like. "What is that?" I asked.

"You'll see," he answered.

Nick climbed into the driver's seat and said, "C'mon, there's one more stop before we go."

"Go where?" I asked sweetly, still staring at the bag.

"Just go," he answered, smirking.

I turned to face forward as he drove south through town. He put his blinker on at a McDonalds and pulled in to the drive-thru. "Oh sexy," I teased him, "Buying McD's for date, very nice."

Nick laughed, "Oh, did you want something?" he teased.

"Can I have a 'nilla milkshake?" I asked.

When he got to the window, Nick shouted out the order. "Can I get four cheese burger Happy Meals, two vanilla milkshakes, and six large fries please?"

"Drive up."

"Six large fries?" I asked. I reached over and poked his stomach, eliciting a giggle like the Pillsbury Dough Boy. I blinked. "Did you do that on purpose?" I asked, laughing.

Nick turned red, "No."

"Nice!" I grinned at him, "I think I just found a new toy." I reached for his tummy again, but he caught my hand. "Seriously, though," I said, withdrawing my hand, "Six large fries? How the hell are we going to eat all those?"

Nick laughed, "They aren't for us."

"Oh," I stared at him, thoroughly confused now. "Who the hell do you buy french fries for?" I asked him.

Nick grinned, but didn't answer, as he drove around the building and collected our food. The bag of fries he put in the backseat on top of the duffle bag, and he shoved the Happy Meals into my lap. "Here," he winked.

"And who are these for?" I asked, poking at the top of the box. McDonald's Happy Meal toys had always made me happy. I think that's why they call them happy meals. If they didn't have toys, they'd just be boring, plain old meals. It didn't matter I was grown up, I still loved the prospect of surprise when I opened the box and there was a toy.

"Us," Nick answered, "Hey look and see what toys we got!"

I laughed, but quickly pulled it open. They weren't really great toys, but Nick got all pumped and stuck one that looked like a weeble to his dashboard with gum that he'd been chewing.

Fifteen minutes later, he pulled into a large parking lot and hopped out of the car. "C'mon," he said, "I wanna introduce you to Rebecca."

"Rebecca?" I asked cautiously.

Isn't it a little early to be introducing me to girlfriends? I wondered.

Now it was Nick's turn to excitedly grab my hand and drag me somewhere. He hoisted his big honkin' duffle bag onto his shoulders, waited while I gathered up the boxes of Happy Meals, and grabbed my hand by the wrist and pulled me long. As we crossed the parking lot, I realized where we were -- the marina.

"C'mon," Nick laughed. He yanked me toward a dock, and down the plank-board strip, to a small yacht-like sailboat, with tall sails and shiny pine wood accents. He waved his arm at it, "Behold," he said, "The U.S.S. Rebecca."

He named a BOAT Rebecca? I couldn't help but laugh.

Nick's grin faded just a tiny bit. "You don't like her?" he asked.

"No, no, I do, she's beautiful. I thought you were talking about a woman when you said Rebecca," I laughed.

Nick shook his head, "This here is more faithful than any woman," he explained, "For one... she always lets you get on her." He winked.

"Pervert."

Nick snickered. "Get on the fucking boat."

I stared at it. I had not even the slightest clue how to begin to board a boat. I'd never been on a damn boat. I was contemplating all the graceful ways I could attempt to get on the boat and fall off and end up in the water flailing about - because I don't know how to swim either - when Nick's hands clapped around my waist and he hoisted me over the side of the boat and put me down.

It felt wobbly.

"Thanks," I said. I grabbed onto a rope to steady myself.

"Don't pull too hard on that," Nick warned, "It adjusts the sail."

I dropped it. I didn't know what the sail did exactly - well, I mean it catches wind, but I dunno how easily adjusting it could fuck it up so I didn't want to be blamed for that. I backed up, almost tripped over an anchor, and watched as Nick tossed the bag of gear and fries on board before easily jumping on himself.

I had my hands out like I was on a balance beam.

"You've never been on a boat," Nick said, eyeing me, "Have you?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Let's just say you don't have your sea legs is all," Nick responded kindly. "Here," he took hold of me and led me to a cushioned seat that ran around the edge of the boat, "Sit down, I'll get us out there and then it'll be all good, ok?"

I sat down and watched as Nick shoved his bag of gear out of the way and untied the back of the boat from the dock. He moved with precision, making it like an art form to tug ropes and move beams and turn wheels. I watched him work, and saw his face light up as the boat moved speedily through the ocean air into the Gulf of Mexico.

"You like boats," I observed.

"I love the ocean," he corrected.

Something about the way he said it, about the passion of the tone of his voice, about the sparkle in his eyes as the words crossed his lips, I dunno what it was exactly - but something about that sentence made me want him to say that about me. I wanted the word love to fall out of his mouth in conjunction with my name just as it had for the ocean.

Oh my God, did I just fall in love with him?