Keep (Seaside Pictures 2)

But how?

“How did we meet?” I blurted.

She stopped walking, her gaze dropping to the ground before meeting mine again. I thought I’d upset her until I noticed it wasn’t anger but embarrassment.

With a chuckle, I patted my bedside. “I have a feeling I’m going to love this story.”

“Why!” Fallon looked up and threw her hands in the air. “Once was enough. Being embarrassed in front of you is kind of my thing.”

“Is it?”

“I’m really good at it, might make it my new profession.” Her red face was cute as hell, I wanted to touch her, cup her chin, taste her lips. She sat on my bed, careful not to touch any part of my body, and hugged herself. “My best friend is a lunatic, not fit for normal society. The first time I met you was her fault. The second time, she pushed me off the boardwalk, so you had no choice but to rescue me.”

“I sound like a hero,” I teased.

A light laugh escaped her lips. “Not exactly. More like, you saw a chance to get out of the house.”

“Huh?”

“Writers block. Anxiety. Screaming girls. You were all holed up in the house and used me as a tour guide.”

“I did?” That surprised me a bit; I must have been really interested to go that far.

“Yeah you totally paid me a million dollars and promised a new Ferrari if your first single hits number one.” Her face was stone cold, “But I declined out of the goodness of my heart.”

My eyes narrowed. “I think you’re full of shit.”

“Maybe.” She lifted a shoulder in a half hazard shrug. “But it was worth a shot.” Her smile widened. “You did pay me for a while—”

“What happened?”

“Uh, how are you feeling?” She stood abruptly and paced in front of the bed. “Do you need the doctors? More marshmallows?”

“Fallon.” It felt right. Saying her name.

Her eyes flashed with hope, like maybe I recognized her because I knew her name. My heart sank. I wanted to be deserving of that look.

I wasn’t.

“Why did I stop paying you?”

She pulled her hair out of the ponytail and then readjusted it. “I um, well, it—” She sighed. “Things got complicated. Lines were crossed. It didn’t feel right anymore for either of us.”

“I like lines.” I grinned.

She went bright as a tomato.

“Tell me about these lines, Fallon.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

I coughed. “I think I’m getting sicker—”

“That’s not fair!” She burst out laughing. “And if you must know, we kissed.”

“I would never stop paying you over a single kiss. I know myself better than that.”

She shuffled her feet and looked up at me, her gaze traveling just above my head, so she wasn’t making eye contact. “We kissed a lot.”

“How much is a lot? Like one kiss? Two kisses? Three kisses? How long were the kisses, were they timed? Was there tongue? And were we in bed? On the beach? Cut me some slack, Fallon, my brain isn’t working. Give me something to live for.”

“You’re so….” She giggled. “You.” A frown marred her face. “But not. I mean this is you, this exchange is typical for us, but this piece is missing, an important piece, like the history of us, is suddenly gone.”

“Fallon, come here.”

She stayed rooted to the floor.

“Please.”

Slowly, she made her way around the bed. I held out my hand, when she took it, a spark of electricity filled my body like a slow burning fire as it roars to life.

“Some of the history may be gone,” I whispered. “But the great thing about me not dying…is you can create more memories, more history, more conversations, more moments. Moments are forever, right? Look at it this way…” I cupped the back of her head. “I’m sure my old self, the part of my memory that’s not quite firing on all cylinders hates me right now, that I get to do this as if it’s the first time—all over again.”

She frowned.

And I kissed her.

I kissed her slowly, testing the waters, making sure she didn’t push me away.

And something clicked.

Not my memory.

No, my memory was still fuzzy.

But my body was on fire.

Like physically, I knew it was right, being with her was right. My thoughts might be scattered—but my heart—was owned.

By this girl.

I knew that just as I knew that when I took my next breath against her lips, she’d sigh into my body and clutch the front of my shirt like she always did.

I knew that when I kissed her neck, she’d squirm while simultaneously arching for more.

I knew that when my hands dug into her hips, she’d try to drive her body into mine so hard that it would feel like I was getting marked.

I knew her.

I knew her.

“I remember your taste,” I whispered against her lips. “I remember the velvet feel of your skin.” I frowned. “And you’re ticklish just above your hip bone.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “How do you remember that but nothing else?”

“I remember what’s important.”

Our foreheads touched as her eyes searched mine. “And what’s that?”

“That regardless if my memory ever comes back—being in your arms, is like finally coming home. I’m home. And I’ve never had a home—until you.”