Remember Me Not

THIRTY-TWO - BEFORE

"Hey," he said.

"My mom was just dropping off some towels," I told him, even though he hadn't asked.

He gave me a half confused, half amused look. "Okay."

"We weren't talking about you."

"Not gonna lie, Morg, you're kind of making me believe the exact opposite."

I let out a defeated sigh. "Yeah, I figured."

He pulled the towel from around his neck, rubbing his hair one last time before hanging it up on the back of the door. "I won't ask," he said, turning back to me. "I just hope they were nice things."

I mimicked zipping up my lips. "You'll never know."

I caught his smile, then busied myself picking up the spare pile of towels that I definitely didn't need. He didn't say anything else, and I thought that was the end of it—but then he sneaked up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"Come on," he whispered in my ear. "You know you want to tell me."

I let out a long exhale, pressing myself back against him. The tiny groan that came from behind told me the movement was appreciated—and honestly, I enjoyed the sense of power that came with it.

"Sorry," I murmured. "My lips are sealed."

And that was it: before I had time to react, or even utter another word, I felt myself being spun around to face Josh. Our faces ended up inches apart, and his eyes burned with something that ignited another fire in the pit of my stomach.

"You sure about that?" he asked, his voice low.

I swallowed. "Yeah."

Whatever my answer, the outcome would've been the same. Josh's lips crashed onto mine urgently, frantically—and yet also with enough softness to make me melt. That was all it took to pull me out of reality. In a split second, all words from our previous conversation vanished from my head, and all I could think about was the way he was pulling me closer.

The height difference meant I had to stand on tiptoes, and before long my feet started to ache. Josh seemed to sense the shift in my balance; he started backing me up toward the bed. I opened one eye to check if the door was closed, because I really didn't want this to be on display to the rest of my family, but thankfully it was. Next thing I knew, I'd toppled backward onto the bed.

Then Josh was on top of me, his weight pinning me against the mattress. Inch after inch of our bodies molded against one another, and it felt like fire tearing its way through my skin. Despite the chill outside, and the fact that my bedroom always suffered from a draught, I was burning all over.

Something hard was pressing into my leg, grinding harder and with more force the more heated our kiss became. I would've been lying if I said I wasn't turned on, too. Now we'd shaken off the hesitance around sex, we were firmly in the honeymoon phase of the relationship where we couldn't keep our hands off each other. That applied to me as much as him. If we'd have been anywhere else, I wouldn't have turned it down.

But right here, in my childhood bedroom, with four people on the other side of various walls, it just felt a little weird.

I pulled my lips away, the word coming out in a gasp for breath. "Josh."

"Hmm?"

"We need to stop," I breathed. This time I'd learned my lesson; I needed to be clear, and not beat around the bush. Even though part of me wanted to take the words back completely when his lips found that sweet spot on my neck.

He wasn't drunk this time, so there should have been no hesitation.

"Why?" he asked, still nuzzling my neck. I had to use every bit of concentration to hold onto my train of thought. "Don't you want it?"

"I do," I said, which wasn't a lie. "I just—my family's on the other side of the wall."

"So?"

"So," I repeated, coming to my senses enough to push him back more forcefully. "I'm not comfortable doing this."

Finally, he stopped. He drew his head back, away from my neck, and lifted himself to create space between our bodies. With our eyes inches apart, it was obvious what I saw there: fiery, almost uncontrollable desire. I didn't need to run my hand any lower to know how much he wanted it. But I wasn't about to feel any shade of guilty.

I'd been friends with Hanna long enough to know better.

"Okay," he said, after a moment's pause. In that short space of time, the fire in his eyes had dulled, and he shook his head like he was scolding himself. "Sorry. I don't know why I kept going just then."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not." It came out firmer, harsher, but all the disappointment was directed internally rather than at me. "I should've stopped a lot earlier. That wasn't right. I'm sorry, Morgan."

"We both got carried away," I said. "It was in the heat of the moment. I just... I don't know, I feel kind of weird about doing anything when I know my parents are in the next room."

"And that's completely fair. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have."

He rolled off me then, pulling himself upright and giving me the space I needed to do the same. I swung my legs back over the side of the bed so I was sitting beside him.

With his hands knitted together in his lap, he was staring silently at the floor, which made me a little concerned.

"Josh?"

"I'm sorry," he repeated, without looking up.

"I don't know what you're apologizing for," I told him. "Like I said, we got carried away. It's not a big deal. Don't beat yourself up about it."

He looked up, meeting my gaze. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I said emphatically. Honestly, he was kind of scaring me, and I would've said whatever it took to get him out of this weird mood. "We're all good. I promise."

This seemed to relax him; his chest fell with the release of a tense breath. And that meant I could relax, too. It meant this weird exchange was over, and we could simply curl up under the covers and sleep together in the most innocent sense of the word.

Because it really wasn't a big deal. Unlike the night of the Halloween party, he was sober, which meant he'd caught his mistake and more than made up for it by way of apologies. I could tell he felt guilty, even if it was only a momentary lapse of judgement. It didn't change my perception of him; he was a good guy, after all.

And it was unfair to expect good guys to be perfect guys, wasn't it?

"Are you ready to go to sleep?" I asked, steering the conversation into simpler territory. "We've got a big day ahead tomorrow. Lots of eating. My mom likes to buy food as if she's buying for the entire street—and now there's one extra person to feed, she'll have started thinking about the next street, too."

He chuckled. "Better save my energy, then."

As we stepped into comfortable quiet, and began getting ready for bed, I was just grateful that the weird moment had passed. It felt like we could go back to normal. And if things were normal, we could put the whole thing behind us and forget about it.

But later, as I lay staring wide-eyed at the ceiling while Josh dozed beside me, I wondered if that might not be as easy as it sounded.

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Aaand here I am with another chapter! Was this simply a misunderstanding, or are the cracks beginning to show? Well, I guess the only way you'll find out is to keep reading...

As always, drop me a comment below to let me know what you're thinking at this point in the story. I have a VERY different perspective as the author, so I always love to know how it's coming across to you guys.

Until next time...

- Leigh