Twenty-Three

Keaton laid back into the plush white pillow, smiling as he snapped the picture before he began to type.



It didn't take her long to respond- the three little bubbles popped up, lighting up in a quick sequence, making his heart race.

She responded with a picture of herself standing in her bathroom, make-up littering the black granite counter top and her flat iron warming in the corner. She was in a baggy shirt, one shoulder bare as the material slouched, her lips were pursed with one hand out flat, blowing a kiss as her hair fell around her face in its natural waves.

Good morning Keaty-Kat! Happy Birthday to my
favorite person in the world!

Keaton laid back into the pillow, his face a little more serious this time as he did away with his smile before snapping a picture.



Without a second thought he hit 'send' before he nestled back into the bed, waiting not-so-patiently for her response.

He couldn't fight the smile that tugged at his cheeks as the picture appeared. This time it was a box, it was wrapped in a brown paper which was covered in white polka dots. A thick white ribbon wrapped up each side- meeting at the top of the package where it tied into a big, elaborate white bow. A hand-cut tag hung from the bow, 'Keaton' was scrawled in her handwriting, a red heart just under his name.

This should cheer you up! I'm so excited to give
it to you! It's been SUCH a hard secret to keep!

He didn't need a gift- he had been telling her that for months, but she just wouldn't have it. But in all truth, that was typical Annie, she loved celebrating and she was one of the few people in the world that truly believed giving was better than receiving. Her gifts were always over the top, extremely thoughtful and one-of-a-kind. They were hard to top.

But this year, Keaton didn't want anything wrapped in an elaborate paper. He didn't want anything you could buy in a department store or the local skate shop.

The only gift he wanted, was to wake up with her wrapped tight in his arms.
He wanted to kiss her awake, and marvel at how good she looked in his t-shirt.
He wanted to make her breakfast, and then to beg her to stay in bed all day.
He wanted Annie.
All of her.
Everyday.

To the world she was Annabelle Faith Hutcheson.
To him she was simply, Annie.
Unless of course, she was in trouble- then she was Annabelle.
And she was everything that he loved about the world.

He loved her most in the morning- when she hadn't bothered with makeup yet and her hair was in that famous messy-bun, and her lopsided grin. He loved the real her, the girl who craved the sand between her toes. The girl who demanded caffeine before anyone dared to speak to her in the morning. The girl who felt very strongly about what a lost art roller skating was and how she could disappear for hours on end, only to be found tucked away in the bay window with a book and a hot cup of tea, teary-eyed cursing one of her favorite authors for making her cry (again). He even loved her book wall and how she had read all 579 of them. He loved her compulsion to recycle, and her desire to do good for the world.

He loved everything about her, down to the freckle on the apple of her left cheek and the dimples at the bottom of her spine, and he especially loved the heart shaped birthmark that traced over her right hipbone.

But most of all, he loved the way he loved her.

Keaton had been hopelessly in love with Annie since the day he met her almost four years ago. She had been Brooke's best friend since their move to Huntington Beach, but Annabelle had always been anything but attainable.

Not because the attraction wasn't there- but because the law said so.

Keaton was born five years, four months and fifteen days after Annie.

She was twenty-three.
Hardly appropriate for a seventeen year old.

But today was the day- Keaton was eighteen.
Today was the day that Keaton would make her, his.

"I know it's your birthday, Skeat-" Wesley was standing in the doorway, his red Volcom boardshorts hung low on his hips, a white striped t-shirt hung draped over his shoulder, "but you really should get your ass out of bed, we have a party to get to."

"I'm getting up, I was just-"

"Texting Annie?" Wesley smirked, one eyebrow high with curiosity. Keaton's face flushed a deep pink, "You so were!"

In one swift motion, Keaton pulled the pillow from under his head before chucking it straight at Wes, who much to Keaton's disappointment, caught it.

"Are you going to tell her you loooove her?!" Wes taunted, his sing-song tone left him smug while Keaton's blush only went darker. "You so are!"

"Fuck off, Wes!" Keaton grumbled, pulling the comforter up over his head, but all the blankets in the world couldn't drown out Wes.

"Hang a sock on your door if you two need some privacy tonight!"

Keaton kept his faced covered, praying Wes would disappear- but much to his dismay, he just kept talking. "Speaking of Annie-"

"Would you stop?!"

"She just text me!" Keaton's eyes went wide as he ripped the blankets off, sitting straight up.

"What did you say to her? I swear to God, Wes-"

"Dude! Would you chill? She wants to know where we are! She's already at mom's, she's helping her decorate." Keaton felt his heart speed up.

"She's alone with mom?"

Wes mindlessly shook his head 'no' as his fingers danced over the black screen. "No, Breezie and Brooke are there too-"

"How is that any better?!" Wes just shrugged off Keaton's distress. "You know the girls can't keep their trap shut!"

And they couldn't- if there was anything Keaton knew about his sisters, it was that they couldn't keep a secret. Breezie had been dropping hints for almost a year about how he felt, and he knew at the rate she was going, it was only a matter of time before she told Annie everything.

"Then quit your bitchin' and get ready!"

Keaton had managed to shower and shave in what could only be considered record time. He was standing in the war zone that was his closet when his phone went off.

Grabbing his phone from the shelf he couldn't help but smile as her name appeared on the screen once again, this time it was a picture of her and his mom, his mom holding up a glass of wine while Annie pressed a bottle of her favorite Belgian Cherry Wheat Beer to her tinted lips, the caption read "Getting day-drunk with momma Stromberg because you aren't here."

He decided on the pair of Hurley boardshorts- they were his favorite pair. They were blocked in a grey-green-white pattern and a plain white shirt.



Keaton, Wes, and Drew had all squeezed into Tyler's tiny Chevy. The aimless chit-chat drowned out the radio, but Keaton couldn't hear a word of it over his heart and its desperate pounding. His palms had wicked with sweat, and his mouth had went dry.

"You alright?" Tyler asked from the driver’s seat as he navigated through their mother’s neighborhood, but before he had time to even think about answering, Wes had poked his head between the seats as he ruffled Keaton's hair.

"He's going to tell Annie he loves her! He's a mess!"

"Oh thank God-" Drew chimed in from the back seat.

"Oh shut up Drew!"

"What?" he shrugged, "You'd be thankful too if you had spent the last four years listening to you drone on and on about her! Oh I wonder if Annie likes me? I'm in love with her, but she'll never love me back. Have you seen her boyfriend? He's so good looking! I literally hate him! Annie Stromberg has a nice ring to it! I'm saving my money so I can buy her the ring of her dreams! It'll be from Tiffany's-" Keaton spun around in his seat, his glare burning a hole through Drew. "What? Don't act like you haven't had an engagement ring finder on your phone for the past six months!"

"Rings?" Wes asked, mouth agape, "Are you crazy? The girl doesn't even know you like her!"

Drew let out a deep belly laugh, "Annie isn't stupid. Trust me, she has to know-"

"I'm not going to ask her to marry me! It's just nice to...imagine."

The idea that someone had seen that made Keaton sick to his stomach- he was being honest, sometimes, it was just nice to imagine because that was all his future was with Annie right now, an image that burned deep in his mind.

"I'm actually happy for you-" Tyler finally spoke, "you guys deserve to be together, and I'm glad you're finally going for it."

"Really?" Tyler smiled, nodding softly, "Thanks man..."

But he couldn't stop the knot that formed in the back of his throat as they pulled into his mother’s driveway. The walk to the house felt something akin to a death march- like the possibility of a future (or a lack of one) laid inside the house.

But he couldn't wait any longer, Ms. Green -his mother's elderly next-door neighbor- had taken to staring as she watered her coveted petunias.

But like every other Stromberg event, before he could even get in the door, he was accosted by family. His father and his step-mother, then his mother and her boyfriend, random cousins and friends. They all demanded his attention in one way or another.

Annie had been floating through the party with baby Isaac resting on her hip. On one of the occasions he had spotted her in passing, he made her promise that they would stow-away and talk sometime later and before he knew it, dusk had fallen on the sleepy beach town.

He was sat in the lawn chair, watching as his mother lit eight of the eighteen candles sitting atop the cake, before finally lighting the "1" and "8" candles situated on the cupcake.

Keaton closed his eyes, inhaling deep before he gave a great breath- blowing as both candles blew out in a flash. Everyone clapped as Annie smiled, grabbing at Keaton's face, pressing a kiss to his warm cheek before she pressed her lips to his ear, whispering. "Happy birthday, Keater Pan."

Everyone clapped as Lara started handing out cupcakes, "Who wants ice cream?" Brooke shouted over the chaos, her ice cream scoop held high- the summer heat melting the chocolate-marshmallow confection at warp speed.

Keaton stood, pushing the chair out from behind him. "Where are we going?"

He wasn't sure where the sudden boost of confidence had come from, but he knew he had to tell her, and he had to do it now.

"My room-" Keaton had his hand wound tight around hers- their fingers laced as she chased behind him.

"Wait!" he felt her hand leave his grip as she scattered towards the present table, grabbing hers.

His room at his mother's house was actually a guest room at this point- he had only lived there a few months before he left for the XFactor, and after that he had moved in with Wes and Drew. All that remained was his old twin bed and a tube television from the early nineties.

The room was silent as they shared a nervous glance, but Annie pushed the present at Keaton, "I can't wait any longer. I've had it for almost four months-"

Keaton took the tag, tracing over his name. "I told you, you didn't have to get me anything-"

Annie let out a chuckle, "Keat, I buy you something every time I go to the pier. You honestly think I'd miss your birthday?"

Keaton took a breath before pulling at the ribbon, the bow unwound, letting the ribbon fall onto the bed. She gave his a hopeful smile as he ripped at the paper which revealed a white box. He removed the rest of the paper before he pulled the top of the box up- letting it fall backwards.

His brows pulled together as he reached into the box.

"A snare?" his fingers traced over the tension collar and the batter head- which had a glaringly obvious split, making it clear that the thing had been played (hard) before. He pulled until it was free of the box- aside from the damage it was beautiful, the finish was a glittery silver and unlike most drums the batter head was black. "Where have I seen this before?"

"Turn it over, Keaton." she mumbled, biting at her bottom lip to calm her nerves.

He did as he was told- but at the sight of the silver Sharpie, every ounce of breath seemed to escape his lungs. The signatures were sloppy, but he knew them- Travis Barker, Tom DeLonge, Mark Hoppus.

"You like it?"

He looked up at her, wide eyed and slightly frazzled. "Where the hell did you get this?"

"I met them at that drum off I worked back in April. That's the snare Travis broke during his performance." She didn't think it was possible, but his eyes went wider.

"Travis...played this?"

"Yeah. That's actually part of the set he used to record-" but he didn't give her time to finish.

Instead he grabbed at her waist, pulling her close.

She let out a giggle before laying her head on his chest.

"I'm so in love with you."

He was taken aback by his own abruptness- for as long as he could remember, that had been his secret, the only thing he had ever kept locked up tight.

Except, now it wasn't.

It was out in the open- his words hanging heavy over them.

Keaton was suddenly hyper-aware of everything- the sound of her breathing, which seemed to get a little more shallow with each and every breath or the way his heart was pounding against his chest and the way his palms had gone clammy as the clung desperate to her hips.

But most of all, he became aware of the silence.

"Annie?" he breathed, his body inching slowly away from hers.

Her doe eyes were glassed over with tears as she rolled her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Annie, say something" he pleaded.

"Keaton-" she forced out, choking back a sob. "I'm twenty-three. You're eighteen- you're still a baby. I mean-" she defended, crossing her arms tight, as if to protect herself. "what would your fans say?"

"What?"

It was like his entire reality had shattered.

In the back of his mind, he always knew that rejection was a real possibility, but he had never let himself dwell on it because so many people had assured him that she felt the exact same way.

"Annie- just...just say you're joking."

Annabelle swallowed hard before letting out a chuckle, her palm swiping over her cheek to hide the fresh tears, "I just...I think maybe twenty-three is too much, Keaton."

He was paralyzed with heartbreak, every breath quickly becoming a struggle as he watched her leave.