Chapter Text
She shared a lot of firsts with Jon during those short weeks they spent together in the summers. She never understood the term ‘long summer day’ because they never seemed long enough when she was spending them with Jon. She wished they had been longer. And they tried to use as much of the day as they could, but there were only so many hours that they could stay awake before the beginnings of daylight would force them to part, heading back to their respective homes.
The first time she lied to her parents. Jon insisted it wasn’t a lie, they just didn’t know the whole truth. She still felt like she was lying when she slipped out the back door of their summer home after they had gone to bed. Wheeling her bike to the curb before she mounted it, sailing down the dimly lit street with her hair blowing madly behind her and the stars bright above her. She couldn’t remember a moment before then that had felt so free.
He was too late for her first kiss. That had been given away a year prior to their meeting at a stupid boy-girl party with a stupid boy who didn’t know what he was doing. Not like him. Jon whose lips were soft and supple. Who cupped the back of her head and went slow, teaching her what he liked and didn’t like. Who kissed her with tongue! And it felt like the sparks they talked about in every romance novel she had devoured in her bedroom late into the night after her parents had gone to bed. She wished that sweet kiss they shared as they sat on a worn beach blanket watching the stars and the moon and listening to the waves crash against the shore had been her first one. It was the first one that mattered anyways.
The first time she was brave enough to sing on stage. The first time she shared one of her songs with another person. The first time she stayed up to watch the sunrise. The first time she drove a car. The first time she made love. Her first love. Her first heartbreak. The first time she broke somebody else’s heart. And if it was with Jon, she would do it all over again, feel it all over again— every up, every down, every tear, every fight— as long as it was with Jon.
Summer before Sophomore Year of High School
She went to the coast with her family every summer. It was a vacation in the sense that she was free from homework and voice lessons and piano lessons and the rigidity of her school schedule. But without those things to keep her busy, she was forced to face the fact that she was alone. She didn’t know anyone else her age in their little vacation town. It was mostly full of an ever-rotating blend of tourists each week she spent there, all so similar with their burned skin and novelty shirts. Her brothers had stopped coming on these trips a few years ago, citing college or work or girlfriends or whatever else kept them too busy to spend time with family. Their age difference made them poor company for her anyways. But she still missed them.
They’d leave for the beach shortly after school let out, driving the winding roads, up mountains and down hills, testing every bit of resolve she had to not give into her motion sickness and beg her parents to pull over, so she could empty her stomach on the side of the highway. Six hours trapped in the car, silent outside of the hum of the talk radio station her father liked to listen to on road trips. Their silence let her focus on her journal, writing another song she would sing in the shower or alone in the foyer of their home where the acoustics were best, anywhere that she could keep the words to herself. Her journal was full of them. Not all were good. Plenty were cringe-worthy lyrics she wrote last year before she had started high school, but still too precious to rip out or say goodbye to.
Only half a mile from the beach, their home held the fraudulent feelings of being warm and welcoming. After a few days of being trapped inside, the upholstered chairs in the living room were scratchy, the wall hangings and framed photos impersonal, and the blends of blues and whites blurring together to reveal the cold setting it truly was. The design was appealing for their rental guests who only stayed for a few days at a time throughout the year, but Dany knew better. She could see it and feel it in her core every summer, no matter how sweltering it was outside.
She spent the first week outside as much as possible. Riding her bike to the beach early in the morning to see the sunrise over the water and searching for any seashells to bring back for her mom’s collection. She’d return by breakfast time to eat with her parents, her mom sipping coffee and her dad typing away at his computer or pinching into his phone to read the news. A few days during the week, her dad would take his boat out to putter around and attempt to fish. She tried it a few times, never seeming to catch anything and her lines always getting tangled. They might have dinner on the patio or make the short drive to town for their seafood fix at one of the restaurants by the wharf.
At the end of the week walking back to their car after dinner, she noticed him fishing off the pier. A boy who looked close to her age with inky curls untamed from the day’s humidity accompanied by an auburn-haired boy who appeared to be his opposite. Fair and clean-cut with the beginnings of broad shoulders whereas the other was lean with an easy tan and surf-splashed clothes that gave him the appearance of a local. She didn’t know they had those here. He might have even smiled at her when she passed by, but she was too embarrassed to have been caught staring. He’d probably be gone next week.
They went to the burger shack for dinner the next week. It was close to the pier, where you could still hear the ocean from the inside of the joint if it was ever quiet or empty enough. Half indoors-half outdoors with string lights decorating the wooden paneling that went up the walls, it smelled like grease and French fries. They had a small stage for live music usually filled by a guitarist singing music her parents liked to listen to. The burgers were the best she’d ever had and even enticed her mom to stray from her usual dinner salad.
She was swirling a French fry in the ketchup on her plate when she heard the beginnings of the soft strumming of a guitar. She held back a groan knowing that the evening entertainment was warming up before their set and was glad that they were finishing their meals. Loud and nasal in their croonings, there wasn’t much difference between each player that rotated throughout the weeks. It was a small town and over the years, she was sure that she had heard almost every local artist in their rotation. Male, female, skinny, pot-bellied, always leathery and tan, her worst fear was to end up like them. Middle-aged and the best gig you have is singing 30-year-old songs at the burger shack for tourists who tip.
His voice was raspy before he cleared it. “I’d like to thank the owner, Davos Seaworth, for letting me play my first gig here tonight. My name is Jon and if you like my set, the tip jar is at the edge of the stage.”
She knew that wasn’t the kind of voice that belonged to the type who usually played here. Mouth full of fried potato, her eyes shot over to the stage. The boy from the pier. He’d made an attempt to groom his hair this evening, curls smoothed and tucked behind his ears. Surf-stained clothes replaced with a clean t-shirt, khaki shorts, and some kind of boat shoe, he was as presentable as it got near the beach.
He was good. His voice was smooth and his fingers plucked at his guitar with more accuracy than she had ever managed when she tried that instrument. She was always more comfortable at her piano. Outside of the first rasp when he spoke into the microphone to introduce himself, there were no other visible signs of nerves. The butterflies she felt in her stomach when he smiled at her yesterday (maybe) fluttered 10x faster at the soulful sound of his voice.
“You ready to go, Dany-bug?” Her father asked.
“Actually, can we get dessert?” She turned to him, pleading, despite how much she despised her childhood nickname.
“After all that food? I’m surprised you’re not stuffed! You’ll have to roll me home, I’m so full.” Her mother had removed the top bun and eaten half her burger.
“Please? They have that key lime pie that Dad and I love so much.” She mustered her best puppy eyes and childish pout that she could to seal the deal.
“I’ll call the waitress back over and see if they have any,” her father relented with a small smile.
She grinned, turning her attention back to the boy on stage. He was beginning his next song and she knew this one! His face was twisted with the emotions from the words and the notes, almost as if he had felt the love and heartbreak the original artist had. Did he have a girlfriend? Did they break up? She hadn’t had a boyfriend before, but she imagined that she’d feel just as emotional singing a song like that if she did.
She ate her key lime pie as slowly as she could. Savoring every bite and trying to make small talk with her family, so she could listen to more of his set. Occasionally he would look up across the audience, and she felt like he was singing just to her. She wondered if he’d had braces recently, his smile was so pretty. Hers would be coming off soon.
“That boy is pretty good, huh?” Her mom asked around a sip of wine.
“Oh. I wasn’t paying attention.” She blinked, not liking the pleased look her mother was wearing. “Yeah, he is pretty good” She caught another smile from him when she glanced back at the stage. His eyes met hers for a moment and her heart raced and she never knew eye contact could be so exciting.
“Looks like he needs a haircut,” her dad grumbled. “You ready?” He had polished off the last few bites of their dessert she had been working on.
“Here, Dany, why don’t you go leave him a tip?” Her mom slipped her a twenty dollar bill as they were walking towards the door. Past the little stage that he was too good for she decided where he sat singing beautifully.
She trailed after her parents, stopping by the tip jar that was only a few feet from him. So close that they were almost in touching distance. She dropped in the cash, glancing up at him one more time to see him looking her way too. She smiled, closed-mouth to cover her braces, before following her parents towards the door.
“I’d like to thank this pretty girl and her family for my first tip of the night. Everyone else, don’t be shy.”
Her spine straightened, tense in shock, and her stomach dropped. She whipped her head around before she got to the door, straining to see him. He was grinning her way and she knew this one was meant for her. She prayed he couldn’t see the blush burning her cheeks when he mouthed an extra, “thank you” to her as she walked outside. Too dumb to mouth anything back, too shy to turn around and leave her number or ask for his social media, she walked outside. The breeze blew her hair around her, whipping her blush-stained face, and the stars felt a little brighter.
“That was sweet,” her mother smiled at her and she thought she’d die of embarrassment. Her father was already halfway to their car. He thought she was pretty. And her mother had heard it.
She spent that night searching endlessly on social media for a trace of him. Jon. She searched the location tag for their little town. She even checked a few of the nearby towns in case he had driven in. She finally found an old Instagram account for the burger shack that hadn’t seen a new post in a few years. No sign of him in their tagged photos. Finally, in their list of followers, she found a Jon. Jon Snow. And his account was on fucking private.