“Yes. Yes. And?” His voice rises excitedly. He probably wants thanks. Hard to give it, though, when my palms are scraped and there’s dirt on my knees. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly until I feel calmer.
“Usually when one saves someone else’s life,” I say, straightening my glasses, “they do it out of compassion, not for the thanks. I’m sure I’d have managed to get out of the way on my own, but if you insist, thank you.”
He blinks, confusion flickering over his face. A car slows down, and the driver rolls down the window as they pass.
“You two okay?”
I wave them off. “Fine, thanks. I tripped. No big deal.”
Jasper slumps until he’s sitting next to me on the curb. He puts his face in his hands, scrubbing at the skin before he pulls off his hat and tugs at his hair.
“Why do I remember and you don’t?”
“Remember what?” While this date hasn’t been great, I guess it’s technically been memorable, what with the near vomit and even nearer near-death experience.
Tomorrow. I need you to remember me, okay?
My brain’s still doing that magic eye optical illusion thing, and the question—more like a plea—sticks out like a hangnail I can’t cut away. In my mind, Jasper leans over me, brown hair exposed. There are other people too. Someone calls an ambulance. There’s blood on Jasper’s shirt, but when I glance at him next to me, the flannel is clean.
What is this memory? When is it from? He said I looked familiar. Have we actually met before and I’m only remembering now?
Wait. When did he say I looked familiar? Our date lasted all of about thirty seconds before I had to run for the door.
He sighs as he pulls himself to his feet. Jasper doesn’t look at me as he brushes his palms on his jeans.
“See you tomorrow, I guess,” he says.
Suddenly, I need him to stay. I don’t know why. Ten minutes I ago, I wanted to get away as fast as possible, and now as he turns his back to me, I’m scared. The things in my head don’tmatch what I know to be true. The sequence of events. The bus. The lingering pain is more than can be explained by a scraped hand and a few bruises when Jasper pulled me to safety. I bend my leg as I sit up, afraid that they’ll give out under the slightest pressure or that my pieces won’t hold me together. But I’m fine.
“Jasper.”
He glances over his shoulder. “Yeah?”
Impossible. The words that come out of my mouth are impossible, but I can’t stop them.
“Did I die yesterday?”
We stare at each other. The evening air is cool, and my breath swirls in a white puff in front of my face. Unexpectedly, Jasper drops to the sidewalk. Scrambles to me and puts his hand on my cheek again, in a way that is too familiar for people who just met on a blind date. He says, “What do you remember? Don’t worry if it seems far-fetched. Tell me.”
It’s not just far-fetched. It’s unthinkable. Beyond the laws of reality. Still, I sound out the words as I try to get the memories straight. “The bus. But you didn’t stop me. Someone calling an ambulance. Pain.” His hat on my face like he was trying to take care of me, a stranger who didn’t want him. “I think I died after I walked out of our date. Except it was our date yesterday. Not the one today. I don’t know how that works.”
Panic flickers as my brain tries to make sense of something that doesn’t fit in a three-dimensional puzzle. Squeezing the pieces together brings my headache back.
But Jasper sinks back onto his heels again and covers his face with his hat. He makes soft gasping sounds that might be sobs, but soon they deepen and round out until he’s clearly laughing. His smile, when he lowers his hands, is electric. Cool relief on a face that is suddenly younger than it was a minute ago. He launches himself at me and pulls me into a hug, shaking as he holds me too close.
“Thank you,” he says breathlessly, kissing the side of my head. I’m too shocked to push him away. “Thank you so much. This is the sixtieth time we’ve been on this date. We’re stuck here, and I was starting to think you were never going to remember.”
CHAPTER 3
Sixty? That’s like two months. I don’t remember what I had for breakfast this morning. Trying to remember where I was two months ago...
That’s a really long time. And we’ve... what? Been going on dates that I don’t remember, except for the one time I got hit by a bus?
My laugh is thin, tinged with nervous desperation. “You’re joking.”
He shakes his head sadly. “I’m not that funny.”
“You expect me to believe you?” A muscle jumps behind my eyebrow. Is this what they mean by a brain cramp?
