My eyes flutter closed, and for a long moment, I concentrate on the sound of his breathing and the upward rise of his chest as he inhales.
“The first day of our senior year, I’m going to offer you my letterman jacket so you can be reminded of me in the classes we don’t have together. You’ll refuse it, telling me that I don’t own you, but there will be a smile on your pretty lips because we both know that I do.” I grin against him. “We’ll ride together. You’ll probably be driving, seeing as I still don’t have a car.”
I cringe with the reminder.
“Get out of your head, Piper, and back in my fantasy. We’ll make out in the parking lot until the first bell rings, but because I’m so addicted to your lips, we’ll kiss for a few minutes longer. You’ll be nervous to get out of the car, so you’ll offer to drive us to a secluded area so I can have my way with your body.”
I huff a laugh but wonder if it’s something I would do to avoid walking into school while people are still milling around with the possibility of pulling a prank or shooting scathing words in my direction.
“As much as I’ll want to take you up on that offer, I’ll manage to refuse, with the promise of exploring your phenomenal body after classes are over. You’ll pout, once again, tempting me with the need to bite your lip, but I drag you out of the car, take your hand, and we walk into the front of the school like the king and queen we are.”
“Hmm. It sounds like you have it all figured out. What does the last day of school look like then, Predictor of My Future?”
“That’s an easy one. We skip the last day of school because we can’t be bothered to get out of bed long enough to get dressed.”
I chuckle at the surety in his voice.
“We may not even like each other by that point. A year is a long time.”
“Not when I’m betting on forever,” he whispers, pressing his warm lips to my forehead.
“And if you get your memories back? You may realize that you can’t stand me.”
I don’t know why I’m pressing him so hard, but it’s one way to keep some sort of guard up around him. He’s done nothing to make me doubt his changes, but the lingering wariness that he’ll hate me once he remembers me is always there.
“I don’t think I hated you,” he says.
“Well, if it wasn't hatred, I don’t want to see you angry at me. I know I sound like a broken record, but you were vile to me.”
“I know.” He presses his lips to my skin once again. “But I had these…”
“What?” I prod when he stops speaking. “Tell me.”
“It’s a little embarrassing.”
“You can survive a little embarrassment,” I tell him. “Believe me. I should know.”
He sighs, his weight shifting under mine like he’s suddenly uncomfortable.
“You can’t judge me if I tell you.”
“I make no promises,” I tease. “Just tell me. You’re probably making it into a bigger deal than it actually is.”
“After the accident, I went through my phone.”
I stiffen, unsure of where this is going.
“There were…” he pauses. “There were naked pictures.”
I gasp, my fingers clinging to his shirt when all I want to do is run into the bathroom and hide.
“Of m-me?”
Was he planning to use them against me?
“Fuck, I wish,” he rushes out. “I mean, I’d love to have those kinds of… dammit, I sound like a pervert. They weren’t of you.”
“Why do you say it like that?” I’m honest with myself enough to admit that I wouldn’t mind having a few racy, candid shots of him.
“They were nerdy girls, but they all resembled you. They had long blonde hair and bright blue eyes, just like you have, like they were my type. Like you were my type, even though I was a complete jerk to you for years.”
I raise my head from his chest to look him in the eye. “Are you telling me you created a spank bank with nerdy girls that looked like me?”
Un-freaking-real.
He nods. “Does that make you mad?”
I drop my head back down to his chest, a small smile playing on my lips. I reach my hand up. “Show them to me. I want to see them.”
“Wh-what? I don’t have them anymore. I cleared my phone.”
“What do you jack off to now, then?”
He doesn’t respond, but his breathing changes.
“Tell me,” I urge. “What is it? Is it super kinky? I won’t make fun of you, promise. Unless it’s like a foot fetish or something, then I’ll make fun of you.”
“I don’t—” I pinch his side until he yelps. “I think of you. I jack off to you.”
“Like Saturday night?”
“Nothing was more amazing than Saturday night. I’ve relived that a dozen times since then.”