Remember Me Not

TWENTY-EIGHT - BEFORE

"You forgot?" I said, rolling my eyes playfully. "Charming."

He threw his keys on the desk, misjudging the force required so they went skidding off the surface and onto the floor. "Whoops."

"How much have you had to drink?"

"Not much," he slurred. When I raised an eyebrow, he broke into a smile. "Okay, you got me. A lot. Like, a lot a lot."

He also smelled distinctly of weed, which was new. I wasn't really sure how I felt about it. I'd never seen him smoke before, nor heard him talk about it—but I knew in the grand scheme of things it wasn't really a big deal. Plus, I wasn't sure I could bring it up without sounding like I was nagging.

I didn't want to be that girlfriend.

"A lot a lot?" I echoed. "You're going to feel that in the morning. Did you have a good night, at least?"

"I had a very good night." He took one step into the bedroom. As his eyes locked on me, I felt like I was under a spotlight. I was definitely wide awake by this point. "But I have a feeling it's about to get better."

He'd climbed onto the mattress before I had the chance to say another word. The first thing he did was throw his arms around me, capturing me in a clumsy hug that pulled us both back toward the mattress. And I have to admit my heart swelled. He squeezed me like a teddy bear, like he never wanted to let go, and in that moment all I could think about was how no one else had ever held me so tightly.

But it didn't take long for things to change. His entire demeanor shifted, and I should've seen it coming from the moment his lips landed on my neck. It should've been soft and sensual, but instead it was just sloppy. Whether it was the feeling of excess saliva on my neck, or the pungent smell of alcohol and weed on his breath, or the way his body started to press against mine more urgently—like the flick of a switch it all suddenly made me squirm.

"Josh," I said.

"Hmm?"

It was hardly a real answer, since he didn't have to pull his mouth away from my neck to say it. I wasn't convinced he was listening at all. When this drunk, it wasn't surprising that my voice registered as little more than background noise.

"Josh," I said again. "You're drunk."

It was easier to say than stop, and thankfully it worked much the same. He paused, lifting his head and letting our eyes lock.

"I know," he said softly, "but you're just so beautiful. And you know what?"

I blinked. "What?"

"You look even more beautiful when you're in my bed and half dressed."

With that, he shifted his body until he was hovering over me, my back flat against the mattress and my head on the pillow. It happened so quickly that I didn't have time to react. And I couldn't work out how I felt about it—my body and my mind were telling me two completely different things.

We'd found ourselves in positions like this before, and usually it was guaranteed to get my skin tingling and my heart racing. Perhaps there was still an element of that; I could certainly feel the anticipation in the air. But at the same time, my head didn't want anything to do with it. I couldn't shake the feeling that I wanted him to back off.

I let him kiss me for a couple of seconds, if only because his lips were already there and I hadn't yet decided what to do. Then the urge got the better of me. I turned my head to the side.

"Hey, what gives?" he asked, with a pout.

"Josh, it's almost five in the morning, and you're drunk as hell."

"And?"

He went in for another kiss; I turned my other cheek. "And we are not doing this right now," I finished for him. "You need a glass of water and some sleep."

I could feel how much he wanted it; the evidence was pressing into my inner thigh. I thought he might continue trying to persuade me. My protests hadn't been firm 'no's, after all. But after a few seconds of pause, his shoulders drooped and he rolled off me.

"Yeah, you're probably right," he sighed.

"I always am," I said, propping myself up on my elbow and looking over at him. He was lying back with his eyes closed, still in his white shirt and bow tie, although the tuxedo jacket seemed to have gone walkabout. "Do you want me to fetch you that glass of water?"

He opened one eye and smiled lazily. "You're a lifesaver."

I rolled my eyes, but I felt a small swell of affection as I rose from the bed and padded toward the door. "I know. What would you do without me?"

In the kitchen I took my time, searching the cupboards for a clean glass, and when I couldn't find one, plucking a dirty one from the sink to wash myself. The mindless task was oddly soothing. With that and the few minutes to myself, the knot of unease in my stomach managed to unravel.

When I returned to the bedroom, Josh hadn't moved: he was splayed out on his back with his head against the pillow, now fast asleep and snoring softly.

Careful not to disturb him, I placed the glass of water on his bedside table. Then I paused just to look at him.

He look so peaceful, with his eyelids fluttering and all the tension drained from his expression. It was like his face had become a blank canvas, free from every line, every crease, every emotion—and once he woke up, it could transform into anything. I kind of liked the potential.

I slipped back into the other side of the bed. Josh stirred slightly as the mattress dipped, but didn't wake up.

At the time I'd enjoyed the extra room, but now he was here I realized I much preferred sleeping with him beside me. Whether it was the warmth, his steady breathing, or simply knowing he was no more than an arm's length away, his presence was like a comfort blanket. These days it was much harder to sleep alone.

Suddenly, there was movement—and one of Josh's arms reached over to scoop me in. My head fit perfectly in the gap between his chest and arm, and I soon relaxed.

"Morgan?" he murmured, into my hair.

"Yeah?"

There was a pause, and for a moment I wondered if he'd fallen back to sleep again. But then, "I love you."

I felt my stomach tighten with excitement: an involuntary reflex to the words he'd only said for the first time a couple of hours before. It didn't matter that he was drunk, because he hadn't been earlier—plus, I always believed that a drunk mind spoke a sober heart. This time meant as much as any other.

"I love you, too," I said, which was when Josh pulled me even closer.

I thought he'd turn away eventually, favoring sleep in a more comfortable position. But he didn't. In the silent bedroom, my eyes grew heavier until they shut completely, and before I knew it I'd drifted off into those final few hours of sleep.

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A chapter on time for once! That's turned into something of a miracle for me lately (sorry). But I'm really pleased with how this one turned out, and I'm also intrigued to know how you think Josh comes off in this chapter. Decent guy, or are you starting to get bad vibes...?

Bonus question: thoughts on the new cover? I discovered the absolute MAGIC that is Canva Pro so had a stab at making my own for the first time in a long while. Thought I'd try out a slightly different vibe!

Until next time...

- Leigh