As David speaks, I feel a sudden tightening in my thighs in response to his ominous tone. "Return to your house."

No. I will not be returning to my house. You're not alone in this. I remark carelessly, "Can't go home." The distance from here to home is rather great. Yes, if not both of them.

You can go to your flat within walking distance in a matter of minutes.

Naturally, he is aware of this. When my parents passed away, a trust money was left to me, and he is the executor of that trust. David has been very prudent with the money; according to my financial adviser, I now have more money than I had when my parents passed away. When it comes to finances, he never talks to me. The financial planner handles all of my demands. The number of times David flat-out tells me "no" is negligible. He has been completely silent to me.

We'd have to have a chat about it.

I look at the time on my diamond wristwatch. Soon, very soon.

"Anna."

To which David replies, "Raise your glass," I offer him a drink. For the sake of nostalgia.

"Anna." Beyond his barely contained fury, something more seeps through his tone. David casts a wary eye around, as if trying to gauge how many eyes are on us. Are we going to have a hard time with you?

Though my chest aches a little, I grin. "People say I'm constantly a pain in the neck."

He faces me again, his black eyes still holding that inexplicable expression. Eventually, he lets out a sigh of relief. "You have one more drink and I'm calling a taxi for you," he said.

You got it right; I don't think so either. The humor in me nearly lets loose, but I know he wouldn't enjoy it. Though I was victorious in our first meeting, I still have a long way to go before I can declare victory in this conflict. And at that same time, the bartender steps up with the second drink. Putting it on the bar, he walks away silently.

I like a scotch when sipping on it. It's quite stalker-like that you continually finding out where I am on my birthday," she said. This seems like a lot of effort for not much reward.

David looks down at his beverage as though it had just insulted his mother. Avoid seeming naive by all means, Anna. Don't bother with it; it's not right for you. To find you, I only need to use social media. You put your whereabouts out there for the world to see.

"Oh. That." I raise my glass and grin. In the days coming up to my birthday, I always, always post and provide my whereabouts. Since my first birthday in Madeli, I have. It's only natural that I update so often. Sponsorships on social media are a major source of income for me. They are fond of sending me on errands. There's nothing out of the ordinary about it. It wasn't something I was really interested in throughout my teenage years, but I can now appreciate the rush that comes with a well-curated social media feed. In fact, I've gotten to the point where I'm earning a comfortable livelihood from building them for other people. I don't need the money, but I like doing this.

You pose a serious threat, the speaker said. He whispers it so low that I doubt he even intends for me to pick it up.

He is completely unaware.

We had been drinking in quiet for what seems like an eternity. Instead, David just watches me drink. Fear is creeping in now that the moment has come. That David has been a significant, if limited, part of my life is not evidence that he views me in the same light. I could have made up the chemistry that flares up between us anytime he's in close proximity. It's possible that I misunderstood something that occurred on my previous birthday, too.

As I shut my eyes, I mentally prepare myself. No. Believe me, I didn't misread it. I'm almost certain of it, but the only way to be sure is to take my shot in a manner that he can't ignore. I'm not getting in the taxi with you, David.

"You are, indeed."

"In reality, I am not," I said. When my knees touch his on the bar stool, I stop turning to face him. It just takes the slightest touch to send shockwaves of pain through me. In other words, "I'm about to have a birthday."

You may say, "I'm aware." There's a little tenseness in his leg, but he makes no additional movements... Nothing, not even a move.

You beat the clock. The day of my birthday is the only time you ever come up, and even then you behave like the birthday Grinch after I've already had a good day without you. Nonetheless, I really doubt that what transpired last year could be classified as amusing in any sense of the term. To have fun, all you need is a sense of the absurd. The celebration of my previous birthday was very passionate, and its aftereffects seem to have embedded themselves deeply through my own being. It's something I've daydreamed about plenty of times.

I should probably put it out of my mind if I want to be productive.

"That's a weird way to express gratitude."

I retort, "Because I'm not saying thank you." I didn't need you to rescue me or come seeking for me.

David studies the collection of bottles that lines the bar's back wall. "You had to be rescued."

I'd want to disagree, but it's the truth. I spent a long period in free fall following my parents' deaths, and even though I eventually recovered my footing, my birthday is still the one day of the year that always throws me for a loop. Each and every single year. In that case, maybe he is somewhat correct that I do need rescuing. It's possible that you've been useful on occasion.

When he looks at me, my chest tightens with anticipation. His good looks make me weak at the knees. He has a big frame, which may provide for excellent hugs or enable him to pull someone's head clean off. He had to be in his early forties, but his dark hair is still a bit too long and shows no indications of graying. Last year as he carried me and I buried my face in his beard, I could smell cloves.

David's look is too vague for me to interpret it. One thing I can say for sure is that it's quite exciting. He has a soft, low voice and can convey a lot with only a few words. "Amsterdam."

With a sigh, I also say, "Amsterdam." Twenty-two. I went bar hopping with a group of strangers I'd just met, and after a few beers, someone was dosed. I don't think David was even there. After drinking heavily with the people I had just proclaimed to be my new closest friends, I don't recall much of anything. I came to as David was keeping my hair away from my face as I threw up on the bathroom floor. It was the only time he remained to do more than simply see me off to an aircraft home. He was quite kind to me.

For a very long time, he has provided for me, but not in the traditional sense of a guardian.

I make myself look at him. I was a train disaster for far too long, but I'm over it now. Since I was 22, I've come a long way, but I still have a lifetime of work ahead of me. I'm putting in my time at the therapist, trying to sort out the issues I've been avoiding for far too long.

Then why are we here tonight?

My therapist-sounding small voice is ignored. The last ###Chapter closes tonight. I'm closing the ###Chapter on this ###Chapter of my life and starting a new one in the future. And.maybe. Perhaps I still have an adventurous side, since I desire this. Knowing that I shouldn't have it makes me desire it even more. That's not the canal district in Amsterdam. What a miserable birthday.

David approaches up close, his black eyes penetrating my. "How about some recent birthdays, Anna?

I give a little flinch. In all honesty, you have a valid concern. Instinctively, I want to avoid the situation, but that would be unfair to both of us. On the contrary, I slowly exhale and straighten up. If not, I'm crossing my fingers that this is the one.

David looks at me intently while sipping his scotch. He starts to jolt slightly. For a split second, he stops seeming a walking storm cloud and more like a real person. Caol Ila, as seen here.

The heaviness in my chest and throat has returned. Even though it hurts, it feels fantastic, and that paradoxical quality improves the situation. A person who has never experienced the pain of loss cannot fully appreciate happiness. I'll never understand. No one ever gave me the chance to find out. "Mmhmm." My mouth quivers slightly when I grin. To be "Pop's pick."

"Yeah." Even a little grin plays on his lips. "Yeah, it was the case." Once again I find myself puzzling about how this guy got to be my protector. I realize that they bonded through their time in the military, but should it really be the deciding factor in who gets custody of a kid if anything happens to both parents? What about my peacenik mom? I find it hard to believe that Mom approved of this, particularly because David was never there, but she must have since we're here now.

We both savor the last sips of our drinks in quiet, and then he clinks his glass on the table. Okay, let's get going.

"Pass." To signal the bartender, I raise my hand, but David immediately seizes it in a grasp from which I can't free myself. And it's not like I'm planning an exit strategy. Likewise, though, giving up too readily is not an option. I look at the spot he's holding me in. It's time to ask, "David, what time is it?"

He keeps checking his watch and won't let go of me. "Twelve-fifteen."

To put it simply, I am happy. This time around, it really does. Absolutely genuine. As a result, you are no longer in charge of my trust money. To myself: "Happy Birthday!" Now is the moment to be brave and lay it all on the line. Whatever the outcome, I won't be looking back with regret. I hush and lean in closer to the person. To paraphrase, "Do you know what I want for my birthday?"

"What?" Worried, he asks the question.

"You."

David releases me swiftly. Inquisitively, I examine my wrist. I don't think he was holding me very tightly, but I'm quite sure I can feel his five fingers and palm imprinted on my flesh. He gives my empty glass the evil eye. We need to know, "How much have you been drinking?"

This was a question I was expecting, so even though I was nervous, I handled myself with grace. That's the only one," they said. Sincerity dictates that I may have benefited from a larger dose of this bravery enhancer. And I'm not even buzzed!"

Was that scumbag trying to drug you? When he tries to turn toward the three guys huddled in the corner, I put my hand on his forearm to stop him. The man is as hefty here as he is everywhere else on his physique. David is a large man, and a sneaky part of my brain can't help but wonder whether he's just as thick over there.

I feel dizzy from the excitement of touching him. My hand resting on his forearm is just a token gesture, yet it heralds the beginning of something wonderful. Instead, I hope against hope that this is just the beginning of something wonderful. Do you really think it's impossible for me to be sober and still desire you?

"Yes," he replies after a brief pause.

"David" It's my time to sound a note of condemnation now. Seriously, who could look at this dude and not desire him? While it's true that he isn't quite ripped and exudes a sour disposition, one must remember that there is more to this world than just a beach body and a good mood. He commands attention everywhere he goes. And yet, even if none of it were to matter, he still wouldn't be able to deny the fact that I desire him. Even though I was smashed last year, I recall every detail.

His jaw tightens and his cheeks become a pale pink. It was the slightest of responses, but it was as clear as glitter that I had an effect on him as well. I really should have intervened.

Even though remembering it causes me as much shame as it does want, I'm so relieved he didn't. However, you failed to. I try to speak gently. "I can't possibly have imagined the intensity of your surveillance. You can't claim that your motive was only precautionary.

A refrain of "I should have stopped you" emerges from his mouth.

"I'm pleased you didn't." Absolutely, definitely, positively, absolutely, the truth. My feelings for David are difficult to put into words. It's complicated, I don't always understand what's going on, and there have been moments when I really disliked him. The need I have, though, goes well beyond mere desire.

Just plain desire.

I finally acted on that desire last year. It doesn't take much mental effort to be transported back to the time when we were sitting in the back of that town vehicle together. Referring to the noise he made as my skirt slipped up and exposed my underwear. If I were on better terms with authority, it would have ended there. To test if he would intervene and maybe even take control of the situation myself. So, I reached down into my underwear and had a messy orgasm as he sat there, still as a statue. My experience with him that evening was completely touch-free. God, nevertheless, he was watching.

More times than I want to admit, I've masturbated while thinking about the sound he made and the fire in his eyes.

"Anna, I can't stand the way you're staring at me like that. No is the correct response.

"But-"

"No."

Feelings of disappointment are slapping me. Of course I anticipated that this may happen. Every year for the last six years, I've made this man's life a living hell for him. Even though he seems superhuman, I know he's only a regular guy. Last year, I may have made a big deal out of nothing when he responded in that way. God, that's annoying. I breathe and relax back. Why should I have thought he would say anything else? Even though he has always done his job, he has never desired me. I can't be so self-centered as to expect more of him after everything he's been through.

I couldn't have progressed without taking a go at it, and although it stinks that it wasn't well accepted, at least I won't have to spend the rest of my life wondering if I should have. In the past, disappointment has never been enough to keep me from going on with my life tonight, and it won't be this time. "Okay."

His irises narrow. The word "okay" is repeated by him. "Glad we got it sorted up."

"Same." Before he can stop me, I turn and flash the bartender's attention. I refuse to be packed into a taxi and driven home early on my birthday since it is the first night of my freedom. The moment has come to switch to "Plan B."

The opposite is true; his eyes get much more narrow. Plans B aren't something I'm going to like.

"Probably not, but since I'm twenty-five and you've washed your hands of me, you don't really have a say." As the bartender brings me a second drink, I give him a friendly nod and a grin. "Thanks, sweetie. There's nothing for the miserable guy sitting next to me.

"Anna." That wonderful thread of caution in my name. "Explain."

To which the speaker responds, "Oh, right." I don't take a sip, but I do pick up the glass. Seeing as how today is the actual day I turn 25, I've decided to throw myself a real party to mark the occasion. I can't do it alone. I have a ride home for someone tonight. I'm not at home, but I have a hotel reservation. First and foremost, we must prioritize safety.

It causes David to flinch. He resembles a cat that has been smacked in the face with a newspaper. Someone else will have to do it if not me. It was that simple.

Was your ego hurt by that? Despite the lingering pain in my chest from being rejected, I offer him a slow grin. If you're not interested in my plan to take you upstairs and rock your world till dawn, I'm sure someone else in this pub is.

I've always been intrigued; I never claimed otherwise. He pauses awkwardly but then lets out a swear. To which the speaker said, "That's not right."

It's my time to close my eyes now. "Appropriate." I need to let this go. I may act like a spoilt wealthy girl most of the time, but I can accept "no" when I hear it. It's a done deal; David has emphatically disapproved. The more you pursue this, the worse it will become.

Aside from that... he just opened the door he slammed in my face two minutes ago.

So that I may concentrate, I shake my head. I told myself I would let it go, that I would keep things respectable, but how can I not reply to something like, "David?" Appropriate? It's ludicrous to even consider. In a vehicle last year, you saw me masturbating in the rear. Exactly why do you think it's a good time to debate propriety?

For an instant, his eyes become molten, and then he shuts it off, but it's already too late. I've witnessed it. Wow, I really misjudged his attitude that evening. So, David McGuire is interested in me. If that expression was any indication, a whole lot.

He looks aside for a moment. Again, I'll say it: "That shouldn't have occurred."

For some reason, I feel the need to debate. I had to stifle an outburst of argumentation by clamping my lips together. To put it bluntly, I refuse to beg. In no uncertain terms will I do so. It's his call if he doesn't want to take things further with me. "Okay."

Now that it's out of the way..."

I can only shake my head in disbelief. "No. Restate your attempt. As I mentioned before, I understand if you're not interested. Your role as my protector has ended. You are relieved of any responsibility to find me or to fret about my whereabouts. But if you are not my guardian and you don't want to fuck me, then you have no right to dictate how the remainder of my night is spent.

"Anna."

It seems weird, yet I stroke his shoulder. Enjoy yourself. My apologies for my lack of tact on occasion; please accept my sincere gratitude. With my voice cracking, I halt. No. No, nothing like that. This is a joyous occasion, and although I will remember the past, I look forward to a promising future. We'll be putting the ###Chapter to rest tonight. Even if it was just once a year, I appreciate you being there.