My throat constricts as I spin, realizing that we’re no longer on the busy, makeshift dance floor, but in the wheelchair-race corridor.
How did I get here?
“What’s wrong, sweetheart? You’re fucking see-through.”
“I-I’m fine, I just...” I pause, staring into the distance and wondering what the hell just happened. “I need fresh air.”
Jensen smooths the frown marring his forehead, nodding once. “Yeah, sure. Need company?”
“N-no. I mean, I’m okay. I won’t be long.” I nod at the half-empty cup he gave me earlier. “Get me a fresh beer, please.”
His face falls, sculpting his disappointment, but he catches himself fast, curving his lips into a smile. “Sure thing. I’ll be here when you get back. Come find me.”
I turn away. Those blonde, wavy hairs curling behind the ears of the man in my memory stay at the forefront of my mind as I leave the building. My heart rate is too fast for comfort, but cool evening air flirts with my skin, easing the pain throbbing in my temples.
The music fades along with the overpowering stench of sweat, giving way to the freshness of the lake the further away I get.
With every next step, my pulse subsides and I let out a sigh of relief. I’ve never been a party girl. Looks likethathasn’t changed... which makes my new style even more confusing.
Why would I swap jeans for dresses if I don’t feel comfortable at parties?
A beaten path takes me to a small, secluded beach—occupied by a group in their underwear.
The shoreline is overgrown with clusters of reeds and cattails swaying with the evening breeze. Tall willows completely close off access to the water almost everywhere else, but I keep walking until I come across a boat platform. It’s far enough from the party that the music is a distant hum. Hopefully far enough that Jensen won’t follow.
Taking a few wary steps to test the planks, I walk across, taking a seat at the edge, my feet dangling inches over the calm water, not a soul in sight.
Perfect.
I kept to myself in high school: no friends, and no boyfriend. I’d expect the same story for the two years I lost, but the man in my memory comes back, his broad shoulders, blond hair, the words he spoke, the tightness gripping my throat... I think he was important to me.
I cared about him.
My stomach ties itself into knots so elaborate I feel sick. Where is he?Whois he? Is he looking for me? Is he worried?
Why would I be scared of him?
I set my red solo cup aside, my eyebrows knotting in the middle when I spot a six-pack of beer by a stack of clothes. One bottle is notably missing...
I glance around then scan the calm lake, but it seems I’m alone. Someone must’ve left the beer and forgotten all about it. I’m sure it’ll be dearly missed. Just as the trousers and... boxers.
There’s anakedman here somewhere.
I smirk, raising the cup halfway to my lips, freezing mid-motion when a soft splash sends my heart soaring.
A head breaks the surface of the lake, then neck, shoulders, and a muscular, tattooed chest that would make Michelangelo weep. Low and behold, the Brute stands less than ten feet away, water cascading down his inked skin.
A cold sneer seizes his features and dark, ominous eyes once again scorch a slow path from my head down to my sneakers.
His name would come in useful right about now. I doubt he’d appreciatehey, Brute, and I’m not in the right headspace for verbal scuffles.
“Sorry,” I say, bracing my hand against the cool wood to haul myself up.
How can he boil my blood so fast? I’ve gone from confused and a little melancholic about the bizarre memory to mindlessly battle-ready in less than a second.
“It’s not that hard to mean an apology, is it?” he retorts, getting closer with each slow stride that sends bow waves across the lake.
The water moves around him as more of his torso resurfaces. I can’t make out the tattoos across his chest, stomach, and ribs in the pale moonlight, but whatever they are, they suit him.
