Remember Me Always: A Contemporary Romance

by Angela Snyder

  "Another shot for the birthday boy!" Buddy calls to me.

  He slides the shot glass across the bar, and I shake my head as I catch it. "Should he really be drinking this much?" I ask, yelling over the loud music.

  Buddy shrugs. "You gotta live sometimes, Penny," he remarks.

  With a shrug, I carry the shot out on the dance floor where Colton is currently the center of attention. Surrounding by a huge crowd and dancing to Florida Georgia Line's Cruise, Colton moves his legs and hips in rhythm to the music. I never knew he was such a good dancer, but maybe he just picked up the moves within the past few years. I stare at him, mesmerized as he dances.

  Colton's face turns up towards me, and he brushes his hair away from his forehead. Our eyes lock, and that cocky grin he always seems to be wearing shows up in record time. His eyes dart to the liquor in my hand, and he hollers out, "Shot! Shot! Shot!"

  That gets the crowd chanting around us as I approach him, stop within a few inches and allow him to take the shot from my hand. He chugs it back and sets the glass down on a table a few feet away. Before I can turn away, he moves in front of me, blocking my exit.

  "Dance with me!" he yells over the thumping bass.

  I shake my head and point my thumb towards the bar. "Work!" I call back.

  "Good thing I'm the boss," he says with a smile as he sidles up next to me. His body moves fluidly as he belts out the lyrics and dances around me, and I stand there staring at him. When I realize I'm the only one not dancing and I'm sticking out like a sore thumb, I reluctantly begin to dance.

  Colton's eyes blatantly skim over my body as I dance with him. We gravitate towards each other, and I don't know whether it's on purpose or by accident. Pretty soon his knee is between my legs, and we're doing this sort of bump and grind action that makes me feel hot and sweaty…and completely turned on. His arm snakes around my back and pulls me closer to him. My breasts are rubbing against his chest as he smiles down at me with an expression I haven't seen in a long time. I know that look.

  He wants me.

  Now.

  Before I can combust from all the grinding action, the song comes to an end. The DJ decides to play a slower song, and everyone around us quickly couples up. I pull away from Colton, but he doesn't let me get far.

  Carrie Underwood's Heartbeat pumps through the speakers as Colton grasps my hand and pulls me into his arms. We don't move at first. He just holds me and stares down at me, his eyes darting from my eyes to my lips.

  I want to say something to break the tension, so I tell him, "Happy Birthday, Colt."

  I can tell he's almost completely wasted by the glassy glaze over his eyes, but he seems to sober up quick when I'm in his arms. Instead of answering me or telling me thanks, he pulls me closer and rests his chin on top of my head as we dance slowly to the music. I tentatively wrap my hands around his waist, sighing contentedly and relishing in the feeling of him being this close to me. It seems like all we ever do is fight and argue, so it's nice to have him like this. It feels like what used to be our normal.

  His mouth is by my ear as he whispers, "This seems so familiar. It's like you're meant to be in my arms."

  My breath hitches at his words. If only he could remember what it was like. I'm hoping that the birthday present I spent the past few weeks working on takes our friendship to the next level. Maybe he'll start to remember. I pull back and stare up at him. "I have a birthday present I want to give you after everyone leaves."

  His eyes never leave mine as he says, "Can't wait."

  We dance the rest of the song in a comfortable silence, staring into each other's eyes as if the answers of the universe are contained there. When the DJ starts playing another fast song, I break apart from Colt. "Enjoy the rest of your night," I tell him before heading back to the bar.

  Once I duck under the pass-through and pop up behind the bar, Buddy looks at me with a cocked brow. "What was that ---?" he starts, but I don't let him finish.

  "Nothing. Don't jinx it," I warn him. I finally feel as if Colton and I have a chance of reconnecting. I just pray that I'm not getting my hopes up.

  An hour later, Buddy helps me carry the huge cake out into the middle of the dance floor. We carefully set it on a big table that I had stocked with plates and napkins ahead of time. It takes a bit of maneuvering, but I manage to light all of the candles on the four tiers in record time. The DJ cuts the music off as the whole crowd begins to sing Happy Birthday to Colton.

  I can't help but grin at the big smile on Colt's face. He looks happy, and it's been way too long since I've seen him like that. He puts his arm around me and Buddy, swaying us back and forth as everyone sings. He's clearly wasted, but I'm just glad he's having fun. I'd much rather see him like this than so damn broody and melancholy all the time.

  The singing ends, and Buddy says, "Make a wish, Colt, and blow out the candles."

  Colton leans towards the cake, pulling me close to him. "Help me out?" he asks with a whispered question in my ear.

  I nod before we both lean in, take deep breaths and blow as hard as we can. We get all the candles blown out in one try, and then Colton scoops me into his arms, holding me tight as he plants a big kiss right on my lips. "Thank you for my cake, Penny," he says with a big grin.

  Shocked, I stagger back a few paces when he releases me from his arms. I'm almost too stunned to speak. "You're welcome," I manage to say. I feel like all eyes are on me, and a shiver runs through me at the unwelcome attention. As a distraction, I quickly start to cut the cake as the music resumes. After passing out what fills like the hundredth piece, I head back to the bar to help Buddy with drinks.

  Buddy just smirks at me when I join him, but this time he's smart enough to know not to say anything. I wouldn't even know what to tell him if he asked anyway. I don't know what the hell is happening between Colton and me, but I hope it keeps going and leads to somewhere good.

  * * * * *

  AFTER BUDDY HAS ushered the last patron out of the bar, I venture into Colton's office. He's reclining in his office chair with a big grin on his face. "Best birthday. Ever," he says as I enter the room. His words are slow and slurred, so I don't know how much of this night he'll actually remember.

  I reach behind my back and reveal the gift that I have spent almost every waking hour the past few weeks putting together.

  "Happy Birthday," I say shyly as I set the scrapbook on his desk in front of him.

  He stares at the picture of us on the cover for the longest time without speaking that I begin to worry. "It's a scrapbook," I explain. "Open it," I urge. His fingers are shaking as he opens the cover to reveal the pictures and memories inside. "I kept almost everything from when we were kids," I clarify. Tickets, movie stubs, pictures, diary entries, flower petals, even the wrapping paper and the bow from the first present he ever bought me. I watch him carefully as he thumbs through the pages.

  His entire body begins to shudder as he reaches a picture of his entire family and me standing in front of the willow tree by the pond. Suddenly, he slams the book shut, sobering up quickly. "Why…why would you do this?" he asks through gritted teeth.

  It takes me a few moments to realize that he's…angry? I don't understand why my gift would upset him. "I thought maybe it would help you remember us."

  "I told you that I don't want to remember! Why can't you understand that?" he yells, slamming his fist down on his desk.

  I jump from the sound and begin to back up towards the door. "Colton, I was just trying to help."

  "Help? You want to help me? Go away! Leave! That's how you can help me! I don't want to remember you or anyone else, Penny. Ever!" he roars. He picks up the scrapbook and throws it against the wall on the other side of the room. The book practically explodes on impact, and all of our memories fall to the floor in a messy heap.

  I stare at all my hard work scattered on the linoleum. I spent weeks putting that scrapbook together, thinking that he would appreciate it. I had no idea it would lead to t
his.

  Tears fill my eyes instantly, but I refuse to let him see me cry. I stumble out of the room before I say something I'll regret forever. Just when I thought we were taking a step forward, we take ten steps back.

  * * * * *

  COLTON

  I WATCH PENNY leave. I saw the tears in her eyes, but I could care less at this point. I'm tired of her tryin' to fix me. I don't want to be fixed, and I don't want to fuckin' remember my past. Rememberin' equals pain, and I'm so tired of bein' in pain. I don't want to remember everything that I have lost. It's better for me to just live in the now and cope with what I'm able to cope with. That scrapbook felt like a bomb goin' off inside of my head --- so many pictures and memories all at once. My brain is on overload.

  I stand up, pressin' my knuckles into the wood grain of my desk. I'm seethin'. A migraine fractures its way through my skull, and I grit my teeth and growl like a feral animal.

  Out of the corner of my eye, a figure appears in the doorway. "What the fuck did you do?" Buddy asks. "I saw Penny runnin' out of here cryin'." His gaze darts to Penny's gift, which is now in pieces on the floor. "Damn it, Colt," Buddy mutters. "Do you know how long she spent on that, man?"

  I shake my head, rubbin' my temples in the process in an attempt to ward off this migraine. I don't care. Not really. But then I find myself askin', "How long?"

  "Weeks. She was so excited to give it to you, too. I thought it was a great idea, but obviously you didn't think too much of it," he scoffs, wavin' his hand toward the mess.

  I shake my head. "Why does she keep pushin' me to remember shit I don't want to?" I ask, angrily.

  "Because she loves you. I don't know why, because you're the biggest asshole on the planet to her, but she fuckin' loves you, Colt." He puts his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. "Just put yourself in her shoes. What if you had a girl you were in love with almost your entire life, and then one day she just forgets who you were. Wouldn't you try to win her back?"

  I let his words settle in, but I don't let them affect me. "Penny needs to learn that I will never be the person she remembers. I'm different now. I'm not the same."

  "Yeah, no shit. The Colton I knew would never have done somethin' like this," he says, pointin' to the mess on the floor. "He would have been ashamed of himself for hurtin' Penny's feelings. And he would've most definitely apologized."

  I shake my head and exhale loudly. "I wish people would stop tryin' to compare me to who I used to be. I'm never gonna be that person again."

  Buddy stares at me for a long time before he says, "Well, that's a damn shame, because that guy was my best friend."

  He leaves after that, and I'm left in the bar alone. It feels like I'm always alone. After a few minutes of silence, I run my hands over my face in frustration. I stomp over to the cluttered pile on the linoleum, intendin' to throw everything in the trash. I stare down at the pictures, the cute little sayings, flower petals, movie stubs, newspaper clippings, ribbons and everything else she obviously spent hours and hours puttin' together to make me this gift.

  "Fuck," I mutter, shakin' my head. Carefully, I gather every piece from off the floor and take them back to my desk. It's nearly three in the morning and I'm drunk with a splittin' headache; but I spend the next few hours puttin' the scrapbook, which she worked so damn hard on, back together again.

  * * * * *

  PENNY

  THE NEXT MORNING I wake up and find the scrapbook that I made Colton on my doorstep. Instead of it being in a million pieces, it was carefully reconstructed to almost pre-temper tantrum condition. I scoop up the scrapbook, place it on the kitchen counter and stare at it for a long time. He took the time to put it back together, but I feel like the scrapbook is not the only thing he broke last night.

  I really thought my gift was going to open up some opportunities for us. I thought maybe it would jar some distant memory and make everything right as rain. Boy, was I wrong. My gift had the complete opposite effect, and it was devastating on so many levels.

  I don't understand what happened. Colt and I were getting along so well, and then one thing sets him off and we're suddenly back to square one. I just can't win with him, and I don't know if I ever will. And the thought of never getting my Colton back scares the hell out of me.

  Even though I'm mad at him, I still have an obligation to Buddy to bake desserts for the bar. It's still early and I know Colton will be sleeping off a hangover, so I go to his house and let myself in. Mack jumps up from his cozy bed and slobbers on my legs and feet as I scratch him behind the ears.

  The house is quiet, and I do my best to keep it that way. "Be quiet, Mack," I tell him, and he tilts his head as if he's trying to understand what I'm saying.

  I don't want to wake Colton up. In fact, I don't even want to see him right now. I'm still mad as hell at him for destroying my gift. My intentions behind the present were good. I was trying to bring him back to me. I've been waiting for Colton to come back on his own, but I don't see that happening in the foreseeable future. All I wanted to do was try to help him along, but my plan backfired. Big time.

  I only have myself to blame, though. I haven't given Colton enough time to adjust to having me back in his life. And I certainly haven't given myself enough time to learn about all of his obvious anger issues. He always seems so damn angry, and I just wish I could help him. He won't let me in, though; and it's frustrating the hell out of me.

  Sighing, I wash my hands and set to work in the kitchen baking pies, cakes, cupcakes and cookies.

  * * * * *

  COLTON

  I WAKE UP with a hangover from hell and a lot of regret. The devastated look on Penny's face haunted my dreams, and it seems like I didn't sleep a wink. I feel like such an asshole for treatin' her like that last night. I make a promise to myself to stop actin' like an asshole with her and give her the benefit of the doubt. If we were close once, I let her into my life for a reason. Buddy told me the other day how the three of us were always together. She had to have been pretty damn special to me. That's why she's tryin' so hard to make me remember her. I may never want to remember my past, but I will give her a chance to be in my future. She deserves that much at least.

  I slip on a t-shirt and pajama bottoms and make my way downstairs. I walk into the kitchen just as Penny drops a bowl on the sink. It clatters loudly, and she curses under her breath as her hands reach out to quiet any further clatter. She slowly and quietly backs away from the sink, tiptoein' around the kitchen; and I realize she's tryin' to be really quiet for a reason. She didn't want to wake me up. That makes me sad and pisses me off at the same time. The highlight of my day is havin' Penny right here every morning. I have become quite accustomed to her bein' in my kitchen when I wake up.

  I'm her official taste tester, and I find myself wantin' to taste more than just her cakes and pies. It drives me insane when she dances through my kitchen on her toes, blendin' and mixin' and concoctin' the most delicious things I have ever tasted. I never thought bakin' could be so damn sexy. And I especially enjoy the view I get when she bends over to pull somethin' out of one of the ovens. I always have to sit behind the island so she can't see the evidence of my enjoyment.

  "Penny," I say forcefully.

  Penny jumps and screams when she realizes I'm standin' there. She turns, places her hand over her heart and yells, "God, Colton! You scared me half to death!"

  "Sorry. You are in my house, after all," I say in a sarcastic tone. Her placid mood instantly changes to annoyance, and I force myself to back off. This is not the way I'm goin' to fix things between us. I need to stop usin' all my old tactics and try somethin' new. "Penny, we need to talk about last night."

  She shakes her head as she starts to roll out a piecrust. "Colt, I don't want to talk about last night." I can see her bottom lip tremblin' as she attempts to concentrate on the task at hand.

  "Well, I do," I say, stubbornly. I want to talk about it, and, damn it, she's gonna listen. I step closer to her. W
hen she doesn't look at me, I grab her arms and whirl her around to face me. "Penny, I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry for what I did. I was drunk and stupid and ---."

  She puts her fingertips against my lips to stop me. Her touch sends a jolt of electricity ricochetin' through my entire body. "You don't have to apologize, Colt. The scrapbook was a stupid idea." She takes a step back, and I instantly miss her touch.

  "It was a good idea. I…I'm just not ready for that. Yet."

  Her eyes widen at my words, and she gives me a small nod. "Well, I hope when you are ready that you'll let me know. I have so much to tell you."

  Penny walks back over to the counter where she had been rolling out piecrusts. She has flour all over her apron again and even a few smudges on her cheeks. In an attempt to lighten the mood, I tell her, "You look like you rolled around in a flour sack. How do you manage to get it all over yourself all the time?"

  She stops rollin' out the crust and glances to a small pile of flour beside her. "It's pretty easy actually," she says with mischievous grin on her face. I watch as she scoops up a little bit in her hand and throws it in my direction.

  My dark blue t-shirt is suddenly splattered with white. I look down at my shirt in disbelief. When my eyes meet hers, I growl, "You're gonna pay for that, Penny Lane."

  She gasps when I say her first and middle names together. I don't even know why I said them. It just came out. I use her surprise to my advantage, and it only takes three big steps before I'm scoopin' her up in my big arms. "You wanna play dirty? Let's play dirty." While holdin' her tightly with one arm, I pick up a big scoop of flour and hit her in the face with it.