Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“Was it the kiss?” I asked, standing to match him.
“No, no… I’m just— I’m going through it, Char. I need some time. I need to sort through all my own shit before I let things go any further.”
“Right, yeah, of course.” I understood, but it still didn’t take away the sting of this. In the short time our lips were together, I’d already imagined an entire night ahead of us, all to make up for the blank spaces in my head.
Guess those spaces were staying blank.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, and I knew he meant it. “I’m going to head home. I’ll be in my office tomorrow starting on your case, all right?”
I nodded and hid my disappointment with one of my ever-permanent smiles. “Sounds goods, Austin.”
He turned to leave down the silk alleyway, now glittering under a shifting blue and white light that made it appear underwater. I stopped him with a hand on his wrist. “And thank you for filling in the dark spots in my memory.”
He smiled, genuine and warm and—fuck me—I wanted to kiss him so fucking bad.
“If I could bring back all your memories, I would. In a heartbeat.”
“I know,” I said, hands in my pocket so I couldn’t reach out and grab him again.
“Night, Char.”
“See ya.”
And Austin left, swallowed by the soft fabric dancing in the wind. I sat back down on the bench and tried my damnedest to remember something, anything, from the time Austin and I were together.
All I could remember was the feel of his soft lips on mine from five minutes ago.
A memory that left me smiling for the rest of the night.
7
Austin Romero
I sighed and leaned back in my crappy desk chair, the thin white legs bending underneath my weight. Jamie had them bought them off some online marketplace which I assumed had to be for secondhand doll furniture.
Replacement chairs were already on the way.
A few days passed since Charlie and I kissed at the park, and it had been on my mind nonstop since. Like a permanent brand across my brain. Whenever I closed my eyes, I could still feel his lips against mine, in the same way they had all those years ago. Our first kiss was such a vivid memory (along with all the other kisses after), and having a taste of it again after seven years made it all feel like it happened yesterday.
…
Which was exactly why it could never happen again. I was catching feelings, and that made me feel both guilty and like a fool. I had been down this road with Charlie before, and even though he was a much different person than he had been when we were only eighteen, I still held the strong belief that history was cyclical. It repeated itself, and I never wanted to re-inflict the pain of what Charlie had put me through on the day I had left Blue Creek.
And then there was the guilt. A strong, toxic, malignant guilt that chewed through me every time I thought of Dean. I didn’t even need to look at a calendar to know it was only four months and three days since I lost him. The light of my life, the one who helped put my heart back together again and teach me how to hope and love all out in the open.
He was gone. From one second to the next. My life hadn’t even tilted on its axis; it was blown off.
Blown up.
Destroyed.
I rubbed at the ghost of metal on my ring finger. It was always wild to me how quickly an engagement ring felt like it had become a physical piece of me. When Dean had first slid it onto my finger on the dewy morning in the New Zealand winery we had visited, it felt odd. Not being engaged, just the ring. That feeling lasted for about a day before I couldn’t imagine myself without it. I’d randomly turn it throughout the day, never taking it off unless I was going to the gym, and even then I’d keep it on sometimes.
I took it off a month after he died. Still kept it in my nightstand, though, next to his.
And that was why I couldn’t keep kissing Charlie. I was positive Dean would want me to be happy, but this just felt like it was too soon. And with Charlie? The man who pushed me away so hard that I landed in another state?
I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck, looking down at the mess on my desk. I was able to cobble together a file on Charlie’s “accident” with police reports, news articles, and a flimsy eyewitness report from Sherina Mortimer (who really didn’t witness shit but always wanted to be in everyone’s business). With a preliminary scan, it really did seem like Charlie suffered a fucked-up accident and there wasn’t any foul play involved.