Chapter 8: Why Don't You Ask?

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You didn't stop him. You just let it happen. You kind of liked it actually. You could feel his tension go away just a little. Yours went away a little bit too. Just then, you felt like you remembered something. You remembered something about Mark. It was right there. Why couldn't you grasp at it. What's the memory?

He pulled away, looking at you, fixing to apologize, but you interrupted. "Mark, I almost remembered something. I almost did. I-I don't know what it was exactly. It was right in my grasp," you began tearing up even more, "I was so close, Mark. Kiss me again, Mark, maybe I can get it back."

He looked at you, surprised, but eager. He leaned in kissing you again. You closed your eyes and felt the kiss. You thought about it. And then you had a memory.

Memory

Mark had taken you to a sign. Not just a sign, but the Hollywood sign. You two were the only two up there, staring out over the city. The stars were bright in the dark sky.

"You know, (f/n)... it's been really cool hanging out with you and stuff," he ran his hand through his hair. You could tell he was nervous, "It's just-- well would you-- why is this so hard?"

"Why don't you just ask?" You gave him a little grin, hoping he'd get the gist that you were trying to play the question game. The question game was where you ask questions back and forth to each other in a conversation, and whoever says a statement first loses.

Luckily, he grinned, getting what you were talking about, since that was your favorite game. "Would you believe me, if I said that I really liked you, and that I want to, maybe, go out with you sometime?"

"What if I said 'yes'?" You looked at him. He smiled a huge grin, "Does this mean we're together now?"

"Why wouldn't it mean that?" You both leaned in at the same time, kissing each other softly on the lips.

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