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“Aaron!” I snap.

“What should I do to validate your brother’s fears?” He snags the crook of my knee and tucks it around his hip, his boyish laughter ricocheting between my ears. “Kidnap you and hold you hostage in a faraway tower?”

“You should pull me up!” To my horror, I feel an inexplicable laugh rise into my throat, which I promptly and forcibly swallow. What the hell is wrong with me?

“Oh dear. Seems I’ve started annoying you again.” Aaron clicks his tongue, I guess at himself, and draws me gently to my feet. Immediately I go to shove him, but catch the mischievous glimmer in his eyes and withdraw my wrists from snatching range.

“I said I’d walk you out and I did. Goodbye,” I snarl.

“Okay, okay.” Aaron lifts his hands defensively. “Can I ask you one more question, though?”

“What?” I grumble.

“Is there really nothing?”

I blink up at him.

“It seems like, in cases like this, memories come back gradually after head trauma,” Aaron explains, leaning against one of the awning pillars. He’s trying to sound nonchalant, but I can see his jaw working subtly with apprehension. I have the feeling he’s been waiting for this moment. “It’s been two days since you woke up, so I wondered if you started remembering anything. Or had flashes.”

“Obviously n—” I bite the words back. Flashes. I think…right. They were brief enough that I assumed my brain made them up.

Aaron must notice my contemplation, because his face lightens with poorly concealed hope. “Tell me,” he pleads.

“Um…it happened twice. The first was in the hospital, when you kissed me. I could smell peppermint,” I explain, my eyes wandering every which way but toward his. “And I saw us. Lying on my bedroom floor. Um. Making out.”

Aaron is silent for such an arduously long moment that I launch into the next one. This flash is even worse, though, and doesn’t ease my hammering heartbeat.

“The next is when you offered to show me your back. I could feel your skin under my nails.” I clear my throat a second time, hating my life, hating this moment. “That’s all.”

“Something triggered them,” Aaron whispers. He doesn’t sound sly—in fact, he almost seems choked up. I rear my head and notice he’s procured that fidget toy again, and he’s twisting the cogs and gears, his fingers moving at a taxing pace. “It’s possible, then. That you might remember…”

He swallows the warble in his voice.

“They’re barely memories,” I admit, because I can feel excitement budding in the air around him.

“But it’s something.” Aaron steels himself with a deep breath, then scoops my hands up, peering down at me with uncomfortable intensity. I think he’s obsessed with holding them, and I’m not sure how to feel about it, considering they seem to enjoy being held. “What if we start over? We could reenact our first dates, and maybe putting you in those familiar situations will bring everything back.”

The thought is so ludicrous I want to bark with laughter. It’s clearly a devilish ploy to lure me in, right? But when I meet his gaze, his own is so desperate, so intense, so excited, that I immediately feel bad for assuming negative intentions.

It’s a silly idea, but I don’t have any others to choose from. If I go along with this, maybe the past fifteen months will come back. Not just memories of Aaron, but everything in between our bizarre relationship. Maybe I’ll finally understand why I made the choices I made. How I managed to completely upend my life over the course of a year and some change. Both flashes came after Aaron did or said something to trigger them, so maybe the key to remembering things rests with him.

I should know better than to let him get closer than he’s already gotten with sheer persistence. Yet I can feel my hopelessness rising, because I have the feeling that the longer I go without my memories, the harder it’ll be to get them back. This might be my best chance at awakening them.

I hear myself say, “Fine.”

Aaron’s eyes glitter so brightly that I nearly shield my face. “Really?”

“Sure, yeah, but not without ground rules,” I mutter, my cheeks glowing like hot cinders.

Aaron grins and takes an exaggerated step backward. “Yes, sir.”

“First, no lying,” I say sharply. “When you fill me in about the past, or when we redo events, I want to know every detail. Like if we got into a fight during a date, and you conveniently don’t mention that, I’ll consider that lying by omission. Got it?”

Aaron is shuffling around like an eager child who can’t stand still. “Got it.”

“Next, you have to listen to me,” I snap. “When I tell you to stop bothering me, respect me and do it. Lastly, this doesn’t mean we’re actually dating. This is to help me regain my memories. It’s nothing more.”

“I understand.” Aaron’s head arches sideways, and I catch sight of the narcissus flower tattoo behind his studded ear. Part of me wants to ask if it means anything, but I keep my mouth shut. “One of your flashes came because we did something physical. I kissed you. Even if your mind doesn’t remember, it seems like your body might. So if we ended dates with a kiss or something, we shouldn’t skip it.” He offers a cheeky grin, and says, “For the sake of your memories, of course.”