Never Stop

2. Via

Chapter two

Via

2015

T here are those rare people you will meet in life and form instant connections with. You could have met five hours ago, but it still feels like five years have passed. There's something about them that lights a fire in your heart and lets you know that they are "your type of person." It could be that their soul and who they are at their most genuine core align precisely with the type of person you didn't know you needed to have as a part of your life, and you would give anything to keep them in it.

Ander has always been my person. It's been that way since we were little kids and first met in the field, which separated our family's beach homes on the island.

Grand Isle is a small island right off the coast of southeast Louisiana. The drive takes over an hour from our family home in Sugarland. To most people, the island isn't much—nothing special. To me, that summer and every summer that followed it was everything .

It was the week of my eighth birthday, and my parents finally began noticing my changes. I was becoming guarded. They were worried and unsure of what caused it.

I remember being asked multiple times about having 'issues' at school. They never once suspected the real issue was in our own home.

They were sure a change of scenery for a few months would be the magic recipe to "snap me out of it." It was as if the sadness I was cursed with was just a normal phase.

Thankfully, they decided to take us down to the beach house that summer and every summer after because it did, in fact, change my life. It brought me to Ander .

Anderson Anthony Cole.

Ander lives with his family on their ranch in Tylertown, Mississippi. Seeing each other during the year has been rare. It happens sometimes, but not very often. Though, the summers—the summers have always been ours .

As we grew up and spent every summer together on the island, we spent more time running and playing in that field than we did at the actual houses or beach. We may have only been eight years old when we met, but my heart knew he was for me from the first time we interacted. Something tells me he felt it, too. It didn't take long for the spot we met to become our spot; it was always our place to escape when life got hard. Between Ander and I, that field holds more secrets than most catholic confessionals do. It saw us at our worst and always brought out our best.

The tree stump in the middle of the field where we first met quickly became labeled as our spot. It was right between our summer homes but secluded enough that it felt like our own world. The second the sun would dance through each of our bedroom windows, we would rush to get dressed, then both hit the ground running to meet up at our spot and finish watching the sun as it would rise, and it always seemed to paint the sky every beautiful color imaginable. The way the colors would reflect off the water along the shoreline will forever be etched into my memory as one of the most breathtaking sights.

At the time, it wasn't romantic. We were eight, and romanticizing it was the furthest thing from our minds. We didn't want to miss a second of daylight, and our daylight hours had to be spent together. It was this unspoken pact that we both unknowingly agreed to. We didn't always feel the need to be doing something, but we did always feel the need to be together. Summer days weren't the same when we weren't in each other's presence.

Most boys our age hated hanging out with girls. Not Ander. At least, not when it came to me. He would include me in everything, just as I did him. We made the island our kingdom. There was so much exploring to be done, and we were determined to accomplish it all. Ander wasn't quite as adventurous as I was; he was more reserved, but he never let me explore alone, and he went along with every crazy idea I had as if he was thinking the same thing, too. Although I knew my limits on the island, the summer when we were thirteen, I pushed every boundary I knew better than to cross. It's like he came into my world and breathed life back into me, and now I dare to do everything I've always wanted to but was always too afraid to. He gave me the courage to let myself feel free, even if it was brief and ended with the summer.

As we got older, my adventures would sometimes get us into trouble—and not the kind of trouble with our parents, but the kind that was just downright dangerous, like when we swam across the Gulf of Mexico to the old abandoned war fort on the next island over. It was the summer that we were fourteen. This was no easy feat and possibly the most dangerous trek we'd ever go on. We didn't get caught, thankfully. However, we almost drowned, which was scary.

My dad always told me stories of Fort Livingston. When we would ride by in the boat, all I could see was the overgrown grass and trees that lined the brick core of the island. I wanted to see it firsthand, be a part of it, and plant my feet on the ground of its history. Ander thought I'd finally gone mad when I mentioned it to him.

"Why can't you be like the other girls and pick flowers and make wishes on dandelions?" He asked, annoyed as he rolled his eyes.

"Because dandelions don't actually do shit, Anderson Cole. If you want things in life, you have to make them happen… I'll go alone if you're too scared or chicken." I teased him in a playful tone as I picked up a dandelion nearby and blew it toward his face.

He stared up at me for a beat, still sitting on the old log as I stood before him with my hands on my hips. After a while, he finally stood up, kicked off his shoes, and walked towards the shoreline. Looking back at me, he said, "You'll never have to do anything alone where I'm concerned, Rosie." He huffed the words out under his breath, and I followed behind him. Then, I took the lead and led the way to what could have been our deaths.

Don't get me wrong, Izzy is also my best friend, and she has a piece of my heart that no one else can get, but Ander was made for my heart. He's good for my soul, and he ignites it. Some may call it young love, but that makes what we have seem so trivial compared to what it truly is. He became my friend and walked with me through the silence of the hard times. Words didn't always need to be spoken for him to pull me out of the dark places where I'd find myself trapped.

Our connection has been inevitable since that first summer when we met when he saved me from Liam's wrath. It has only grown stronger every summer in between, from just kids to teenagers. This summer was when I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was it for me.

If it wasn't him, I wasn't meant to end up with anyone .

Ander has a way of calming any storm that threatens its destruction within me, just with his presence. He's quiet but well-spoken. When he speaks, it matters. The way Ander has always lived his life with intention, even when we were much younger, has always been so beautiful to me. He's somewhat shy but has an apparent confidence. The kind of confidence that is cocky as hell at times, but how Ander holds himself can intrigue anyone who comes in his path. He's one of those rare humans who knows exactly who he is and couldn't give a shit what others think. Yet, he has the kindest heart. Once you can free it from the shackles he's hidden behind. He tries not to let that soft side show to many people, and if you get to experience it, you should consider yourself lucky because it's beautiful. I'm one of the lucky ones.

Ander doesn't give pieces of himself away easily or freely. To outsiders, he seems like just another broody asshole who has a war to wage with the world, but that couldn't be further from the truth of who he is. He self-loathes too much and doesn't believe in himself nearly enough for someone as confident as he is. He's intelligent, more than he will ever credit himself for, but sometimes, I think this is a curse. His brain never seems to shut off and is always running away with a new topic; I can tell it exhausts him more than it doesn't. We are alike in that way- Our minds never still and always carry us away, even when we wish they wouldn't. His sarcasm is impressive. Some may mistake this for cockiness, but it couldn't be further from it. He has a way of making me laugh until my stomach hurts and the tears escape my eyes. An ability no one else I've ever met has seemed to have. The fact that he's genuinely funny without even really trying makes it all the more better.

He has his flaws, like we all do, but his flaws are what make him flawless in my eyes. He's compulsive to the point that it paralyzes him at times. It's not the type of OCD where he's overly organized, but the type where things have to go precisely the way he plans them out in his brain, or he can't function. He has this way of wanting to feel in control of what's going on with himself. Of course, I challenge that by constantly pushing us outside our comfort zones on our adventures, but he never backs down to a challenge. He has his own set of traumas that's shaped this into motion. A lot of it stems from his grandfather's death, which happened a few months before we met. Ander was there when it happened. He and his Grandfather, Roy, were grocery shopping together, and there was an armed robbery in the small corner grocery store. He ran and hid like any eight-year-old kid would do while his grandfather tried to help the young cashier and got shot in the wake of it. He's blamed himself ever since. That darkness in him lingers as the one inside me does.

I guess that's us, trauma-bound to one another—each other's comfort and a soft place to land when life gets too hard.

He has a love for music that captivates me. I can tell he's most at peace when strumming on one of his guitars. It's like his version of heaven, and it's evident on his face every time he plays. Watching him in his element has become one of my favorite things during the summers. He's learned to play all of my favorite songs. This is surprising since our tastes in music couldn't be any more vastly different. He likes his heavy and loud music, which always sounds angry and aggressive but has a beat you can't help but get into. I like mine, where I can hear the lyrics and sing along. Although our tastes in music are nowhere near similar, I love how he lights up when he's ranting about his favorite artists or songs. Talking about music is one of the only times Ander talks endlessly; It makes it easy to tell where his passion lies. The way he gets invested in describing it to me is beautiful. How he goes into all the little details about music reminds me of listening to an artist describe a painting. He makes it easy to get captivated, and by the end of the conversation, I'm confident that I could like his genre.

Ander may go on his rants about music that I get entirely engulfed into, but he allows me to go on mine and shows just as much interest as I do- even though I know half of what I'm saying must sound like a foreign language to him. I tend to ramble on about photography and how fascinated I am with it. None of my family has ever really understood my love for photography. They think a camera does all the work and anyone can take a photo, which always infuriates me. Not Ander. He encourages me. He thinks my quirky little obsession with old cameras is cute. He's even bought a few at thrift stores for me throughout the years to add to my collection.

We spend a lot of time talking about our dreams for the future. It's no coincidence that mine is to travel the world and become a street photographer or nature and landscape photographer. Capturing life authentically the way that it is is so beautiful to me. There is no posing, nothing planned, just appreciating life in its purest and most beautiful natural form.

I'm always ranting about how I can't wait to go to College at the Art Institute of Chicago, and Ander always tells me how he wants to follow me there. He says he will follow me anywhere.

His dream is to pursue music. I truly hope that he does. He has so much talent and such a passion for it. Seeing that deep passion for it bleed out of him the way it does anytime he picks up an instrument sends my heart racing.

Last summer, when we'd meet up in the field, we'd always seem to start our hangouts with him playing guitar. At the same time, I sat near him, lost inside the world of whatever novel I was invested in that day, with lots of talking and laughing in between. Then we'd go for a walk that led to me taking pictures of anything and everything, especially of him. I loved how I'd catch him looking at me with a glow in his eye and a smile at the corner of his beautiful full lips every time I'd pull away from my viewfinder, and my eyes would instantly travel back to his. I'm sure he felt the sparks ignite in him every time we locked eyes, although we never actually spoke about it. I also love that we both find our purpose when we're creating. We have the same need and desire to do something, make something, or create something bigger than ourselves, yet an extension of ourselves simultaneously.

Our growing connection was something that we never necessarily dissected and discussed. I preferred it that way, even though it could sometimes be confusing. Other girls my age would go on and on about their multiple relationships and boyfriends, and there I was, unsure what I had after all these years. I'm unsure why we never talk about it. We just don't. Maybe we're both scared that if we try to label it or "make the first move," the other will finally realize the evolution between us and be scared off. Neither of us would want to ruin the friendship that means so much to us.

Ander may be my person, but I'm almost sure I'm his. I see how he is with other people. Of course, I see. I always see him. He always has my attention, even when I wish he didn't. The way he is with others is nothing like how he is with me. With me, he always seems free. Now that we are well into our teens, girls at the beach always try to hit on him and his brother Jett. I don't blame them one bit. It makes me jealous, but I get it. He isn't bubbly and overly friendly, so most people think he seems mysterious and take it a challenge to try and figure him out. Like a puzzle, they want to try and solve it. The hot broody teenage puzzle. He always keeps their interest. He always walks over to me, telling me everything said, and chuckles uncomfortably about it. He never tells me why he wouldn't be interested in any of the gorgeous girls who try their chance at getting with him. That's the weird part of our friendship. We share so much with each other, yet we both hold back.

Today is our last day at the beach house, and we are leaving within an hour. My parents are arguing in their bedroom, per usual. I had just finished packing my bag to head back home when I heard the front door slam, then their bedroom door shortly after. I can hear the muffled sounds of their arguing through the walls of the beach house. They always think we can't hear them, but they are much louder than they realize. I'm not even sure what the argument is about this time. Everything was smooth sailing less than five minutes ago.

With a huff, I sling my bag over my shoulder and shut the door to my room after doing a quick double-take on my way out. I love this place so much, and I always hate it when we have to leave. I say a silent goodbye and head outside to put my things in the truck. As I begin to make my way down the long stairwell outside, I stop abruptly when I catch sight of Liam coming up. Taking a deep breath, I hug the side of the staircase in an attempt to distance myself from him as much as possible. After a few steps, we are side by side. He stops his movement and grabs my arm, stilling me next to him.

He leans in close to me and whispers hauntingly, "I saw you last night with your stupid little boyfriend from next door. You let him kiss you?" He laughs maniacally, laced with venom, causing shivers to run down my spine. "I always knew you were a little slut!"

"No, Liam! I—"

Everything happens so fast. One second, I'm standing upright, avoiding his glare, scared out of my mind. Next, I am face flat on the concrete at the bottom of the staircase. I hear that sinister laugh of his, the one that always sends chills up my spine. Shaking off my backpack, I roll to my side, wincing at the pain radiating through my body. I turn my head to glance at him, and he's already gone.

"Via! Via! Are you okay?" I look up to see Ander kneeling, assessing me from head to toe and ensuring nothing is broken.

"It's nothing, Ander; I'm fine," I say as I attempt to scramble to my feet and visibly shudder at the throbbing ache in my right ankle.

"You are not fine. Let me help you, and then I'm going to kick Liam's fucking ass."

My breath hitches. He saw .

"Ander!" I shout his name as a command. "Please, let it go.," I say with a sigh, my voice low now.

What is he even doing here? We weren't supposed to see each other today. We never meet on the last day as we hate saying goodbye. We would always hang out the day before and go to bed knowing we wouldn't see each other again, but we always pretended we would so that we wouldn't have to say goodbye. Since we both got phones when we turned twelve, we talked daily. So, we made it a rule. No goodbyes. Goodbyes always hurt too much.

Ander wraps his arms around me and helps me over to the truck. Everyone else is still inside, so we are alone. I slide into the back seat of my dad's truck as Ander hovers over me.

"Can you move it?" He asks, looking down at my already swollen ankle.

"Yes, I told you, it's all good!" I say exaggeratedly as I wiggle my foot back and forth, holding my breath to prove my point and not let the pain show.

He lets out a breath as his eyes meet mine. He begins to search my face, and he leans in. "You have a little scrape on your forehead," He swipes his thumb over my forehead, wiping away the little bit of blood that is there. His hand lingers, cupping my face, and my eyes close.

Ander pulls my chin to face his and begins to lean in slowly. My eyes flutter open to meet his as I feel his minty breath dust across my lips. Lips almost touching, I softly push at his chest, denying us what we both obviously want.

"You have to go before they come out. Thank you for helping me."

"V," He tries to object, reaching for me again, but I hold a hand up to stop him.

"No goodbyes," I say softly.

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, but he doesn't speak. He takes a step back, and I close the door and turn away. As I do, I see my family making their way down the staircase. I look back to see Anders's intense eyes on Liam, and my heart sinks into a panic. He looks like he's going to attack, and my heart picks up its frantic pace in my chest.

Liam throws a smirk at Ander, and I see Ander's fistball at his sides just as he turns and walks away.

On the drive home a bit later, disappointment and panic set in. I should have gone up to him. I have so many questions and feelings and no clue what they mean, and I can't get him out of my mind. I should have told him how I truly feel. I had all summer to discuss my feelings towards him, and what they meant, yet I chose the path of least resistance like I always do.

On my way home, I am stuck sitting next to Liam and pretending as if nothing happened.

"Oh, Via. Honey, what happened to your head?" My mom asks as she looks back. She was checking in on Natty and finally caught sight of me.

Before I can think of a response, I feel Liam's hand grasp my thigh and give it a tight squeeze— his little way of reminding me to answer appropriately.

My eyes flash to him for a split second, and I see him still looking off into the distance out of his window as if he isn't interested in the conversation.

Looking back to my mom, not meeting her eyes, I finally respond.

"I tripped going down the stairs. I'm okay."

"My girl. Clumsy just like her momma." She chuckled as she turned around and continued her previous conversation with my dad.

Annoyed by their blind ignorance and Liam's cruelness, I shut them all out.

I need music.

My cellphone finally gets a service signal. Now that we're off the island, I unlock it to open my music app and see a missed text message from Ander .

Ander: "I never thought your ridiculous 'No goodbyes' rule was as stupid as I do now, but I won't piss you off and go against it. Since you shut me down before I could say it to your face like I want to, I'll say it here. I love you, Rosie. I always have."

That was it—that's all it took. I'll never forget that day, that moment, and that text.

My heart was made for and was meant to find Anderson Cole's.