The year was 1940.

You were smiling as you tried not to peek through the gaps in your fingers, Noah's hands gentle on the small of your back.

The two of you had been fooling around since you came here for the summer with your rich family. Who would've thought? You, a goody-two-shoes girl with a bright future and pockets full of cash and a poor lumberboy who had nothing to offer other than his handsome looks and his charming personality.

Noah was leading you somewhere in the dead of night. You kept your eyes closed as you heard the swing of a door.

You dropped your hands as instructed.

A house. A giant, beautiful house. Candles burning on the well-loved walls, pieces of wood scattered on the flooring, cobwebs climbing up the corners.

"The Windsor Plantation." Noah proclaimed, spreading his arms. "It was built in 1772."

You listen as he talks about how crappy it is, and laugh as you walk around.

"But I'm gonna buy it one day and I'm gonna fix it up." Noah says as he tucks his hand into his pocket and admires you.

You giggle as he tells you all the things that need fixing (which is quite an extensive list).

He proceeds to tell you about his plans to turn the barn into a workshop, and you butt in, insisting him to build a porch that wraps around the whole house, the house to be painted white with blue shutters, and a room overlooking the water for your painting.

You find the piano in the corner and play a song for him, slightly out of tune but beautiful nonetheless, which ends in a kiss.

He spins you around, pressing you against the keys of the piano. He kisses down the side of your neck.

You whisper breathlessly from the heat of the moment; "Oh, god." There's a pause, and you continue. "Oh, make love to me."

It slipped out so naturally, as if you did it all the time. As if this wasn't your first time.

He stops kissing your neck and looks up at you with darkened eyes.