Amnesia (Completed, Being Edited)

Two: Sleepover

"So, uh, how long were we together?" I ask hesitantly.

We're at a bar that I remember frequently visiting alone; not necessarily to drink, but to contemplate life.

"Six months," she says, putting her hand in front of her mouth so that I can't see the contents of her mouth, as she is eating some sort of vegetable concoction. She insisted that she pay, since she brought me here, and bought me a strawberry daiquiri; my favourite.

I figured that she'd put up a fight if I insisted on paying, so I didn't bother. Besides, I'm not one of those guys who insist on paying for something if the person doesn't want me to; I just want to make her happy.

"And... how did we meet?"

She swallows, and looks at me, her lips forming a smile.

"You were sitting here. Alone. At this very table. I came over and started flirting with you."

Huh. So she initiated this relationship. I'm usually the one in control when it comes to... well everything. What a twist.

I suddenly realise something. To the best of my memory, I'm a virgin.

But I was with her for six months, so we must have done something, right?

"You look worried," she says, reading me like a book.

"I'm just thinking of how I don't remember anything we did together in our relationship."

"We never had sex of any kind," she deadpans.

How does she do that?

"I learned how to read you like a book, to learn what you really mean behind your words; usually, you're just straightforward with what you want, but when you get shy or embarrassed, or god forbid, angry, it's almost impossible to get you to say what you want, so I just had to learn how to read you."

"Did I ask that out loud?"

"No, but you might as well have; it was written all over your face."

I'm looking right at her, her brown eyes staring right back at me. She really is an interesting creature.

Why have we never had sex?

That confused me. Isn't that what normal, consenting adults do?

And I know she's a grown ass woman; she said in her voice notes, at one point, that she just turned twenty three (a few days after I fell off of that bloody horse), and at another point that she'd just turned twenty four (a few days before I woke up.)
Her birthday seems to be sometime in October. Since I was out for well over a year, I missed two of her birthdays.

Two.

I feel like a turd.

She's older than me, though. I'm still twenty three.

"Why did we never have sex?" I ask, getting straight to the point, unable to hide my curiosity anymore.

"We wanted our relationship to be purely based on love; we're not waiting until marriage or anything, but we agreed that we'd do it when the time is right."

Her face suddenly turns pensive, then, if I'm not mistaken, lust begins to dance in her brown eyes as she drags them back to me, and run's them up and down my face and chest, which is all she can see, due to the table.