by Monica James
I know why. I’ve known all along—I was just too afraid to admit it.
I’m torn between my past love and…Saxon. It doesn’t make any sense. But none of it does. Sam being in the wrong place at the wrong time doesn’t make sense. Nor does him waking from a coma and not remembering who I am. What does that say about our relationship? What does that say about me?
I suddenly feel like the walls begin closing in on me. Struggling to breathe, I push Sam away. He looks at me, confused. “Sorry, Sam, I just…need some fresh air.”
“I’ll come with you,” he offers, but I shake my head, making it clear I want to be alone. He doesn’t argue as I run from the safety of my home and out the back door.
The night air feels wonderful against my skin and I take three much needed deep breaths. Tilting my head to look into the clear, star-filled sky, I curse the universe. Such beauty can also be so cruel.
I’ve somehow found myself in a predicament I cannot explain. I’m changing, I can feel it. Every breath I take brings me closer to where I think I’m supposed to be. I just don’t know where that is yet.
“Lucy?” I hate myself for feeling this way. I hate that I crave him near me.
Closing my eyes, I continue blindly looking into the universe. The blades of grass sound under his boots as he walks towards me. His heavy stride hints at purpose behind his steps. The hair on my arms stands on end when his unique fragrance catches on the breeze.
“Is everything all right?”
“Yes, Saxon, everything is surprisingly fine.”
“Then why do you look so sad?”
Sighing, I open my eyes and look at him. “I don’t know what that means.” But I do. Sadly, I do.
Approaching me with caution, he slips his hands into his pockets, appearing just as lost as me. “You’re standing in a room full of people, but you’re still alone.”
I lower my eyes, embarrassed by his accuracy.
He keeps walking closer and closer and instead of backing away, I stand my ground, titillated to discover what happens when he reaches me.
“Why didn’t you text me back? I was worried about you.”
“Everything was fine,” I reply, still staring at the ground.
“I made a promise to take care of you. And I meant it.” My heart begins pounding as he stops a hair’s breadth away.
“Sam was great today. He actually wanted to speak to me, which is a nice change. Then he got me a drink and asked me to dance,” I reveal on a rushed breath. Why am I telling him all this?
“So why are you crying?” he asks, his voice soft, concerned.
Angrily wiping at my tears, I laugh a maniacal cackle. “Because I don’t want him to be nice to me. How messed up is that? I’ve become so used to him being the cold, heartless jerk that he’s become, I don’t know how to take this new attitude.”
“But this is what the old Sam was like, right?”
Saxon isn’t stupid. He knows what’s going on. “Yes, Saxon, he was. But things have changed.”
“Why, Lucy? What’s changed?” He takes a step closer. The heat from his body warms mine.
“Never mind. Forget I said anything,” I jumpily say, finally meeting his eyes.
I see confusion, sadness, anxiety, and fear swirling in his depths—it’s apprehension which I put there. Saxon feels what I feel. We both appear to be standing in a room full of people, feeling utterly alone…until we find one another.
“I can’t do this.” I turn, needing to run away before I do something so terribly wrong because I won’t regret it.
But he doesn’t let me flee. He latches onto my forearm, spinning me around. “Do what?” His chest is rising and falling so quickly, his rough breaths fan the hair from my cheeks.
“This,” I clarify, motioning with an unsteady finger between us. “I don’t know what “this” is, but I just can’t. Please let me go.”
But he doesn’t. My words only inspire him to pull me closer and closer until not a breath of air can pass between us. “I can’t let you go, Lucy. I’m afraid you’ll run away if I do.”
“Saxon…no.” My protest is weak, contradictory to my request. And my actions betray me as Saxon swallows before lowering his lips to mine.
I’m lost in the epitome of this heartfelt moment, looking into the soul of the man who somehow has opened my eyes when I wasn’t even aware they were closed. But that man is my fiancé’s brother and another wave of guilt crashes over me, dragging me under.
“No, I can’t.” I press against his chest before we take yet another step towards our undoing.
“Lucy…” he cries. But I pull out of his hold and walk back towards the house, not turning back.
The party is in full swing, while I’m ready to call it a night as I push my way past the crowd. Piper bounces over to me, shaking her head. I instantly think she saw my almost exchange with Saxon, but let out a breath of relief when she says, “Why is Sam’s doctor here?”
“Oh, shit, sorry, Piper, I forgot to tell you. I sort of invited her.”
“Why would you do that? You’re totally cock, well, cooch blocking me. Lucky for you, Saxon promised me a dance. Or two,” she adds with an over-exaggerated wink. She’s obviously very drunk.
“When?” I blurt out.
She cocks an eyebrow. “Just now. He came in looking awfully huffy, so I decided to take advantage of his testosterone.”
Great.
“I need a drink.”
“Everything okay?” she asks, concerned.
No, everything is not okay, but I nod.
Making a beeline for the kitchen, something catches my eye and I have to look twice to ensure I’m not seeing things. Sam is pressed against the wall, talking to the one and only Alicia Bell. She looks exactly how she did in high school—a gigantic slut. And she’s acting just how she did in high school—a gigantic home wrecker.
Her long, brunette hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, highlighting her heavy handed black eye shadow and pink glossy lips. She’s wearing a blue dress, which I’m unsure if it’s a man’s oversized shirt or indeed a dress. Either way, the silver glitter pumps she’s wearing all add to the stripper vibe.
I can’t believe Samuel is talking to her. A thought suddenly punches me in the guts. Does he remember her? If so, that’s not saying an awful lot for me. Deciding to find out, I pull back my shoulders and walk over with my head held high. When she sees me, her face twists in disgust, just how it did when we were kids.
“Hi, Alicia.” Her name feels like acid sliding down my throat.
“Lucy,” she replies, just as impressed as I am. “Samuel and I were just reminiscing about the good old days. Weren’t we, Sammy?”
I grit my teeth, knowing using her old pet name for him will get a rise out of me.
Sam nods with a grin. “Yeah, we were. We got up to some crazy shit.”
His comment cements my worst fears. “So you remember her, but you don’t remember me?” My voice is raised, but I don’t care. I’m sure everyone is talking about it behind my back anyway.
Alicia raises a hand to her gaping mouth, muting a giggle. “You don’t remember her?” I close my eyes for a second, cursing my temper.
Sam scratches the back of his neck, pulling an uncomfortable face. “Yeah, I’m sorry. It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose.”
He appears genuinely repentant, but it’s too late.
Alicia purses her collagen pumped lips cruelly. “Oh, how sad. I guess you didn’t make enough of an impression to be remembered.”
Tears prick my eyes because no matter how spiteful her words are, they’re the truth. Sam dated Alicia for mere seconds compared to our relationship, but he seems to remember those trivial seconds quite clearly. But with me, with us, I may as well be a stranger, just how this room full of people are strangers to me.
“Excuse me,” I choke out, not giving Alicia the satisfaction of seeing me cry. Sam calls out to me, but he doesn’t follow. His actions confirm that he doe
sn’t care for me at all.
I shove past the partygoers, desperate to get to my room and forget this disaster of a night ever happened. But when I round the corner and see Saxon pushing a giggling Piper into his room, I know forgetting this night will be impossible. That image is forever charred into my brain. The door slams shut behind him, reflecting how my heart feels.
I amble down the hallway, feeling numb. When I enter the bedroom, I don’t even bother turning on the light. I walk blindly to my bed and collapse on top of it, face first. I sniff back my tears, as crying won’t change anything. It won’t change the fact that Samuel remembers his high school girlfriend, but not me. And it doesn’t change the fact that right this second, Saxon is probably having sex with my best friend.
Images of him taking off her beautiful red dress and laying her gently on the bed assaults my masochistic brain and I groan into the pillow. Then another image flashes behind my locked eyes of Saxon throwing her against the wall and devouring her whole. I don’t know why, but this image hurts the most. If Saxon were in love with Piper or even the slightest bit interested in her, then I wouldn’t care. But it feels like he’s doing this to get back at me. To hurt me.
But I scold myself for such thoughts. Saxon can have sex with whomever he wishes. He owes me nothing. After he’s done with Piper, he could rightfully seek out Sophia and go for round two. The thought makes me sick.
The bedroom door squeaking open puts an end to these god awful thoughts and I spring up, brushing the hair from my cheeks. Straining my eyes to see in the near dark, I’m hoping the figure illuminated by the hallway light is Saxon, but it’s not.
“Lucy?”
“Go away, Sam,” I groan, falling back onto the mattress. He’s the last person I want to see.
The door closes but his footsteps sounding off the hardwood floors tell me he’s not going anywhere. “No, I won’t. I really am sorry. I don’t know why I remember Alicia and not you, it’s not like I have a choice. From your diary entries, I know I should remember you, but I don’t. I’ve been so angry since I woke up, and I’ve blamed you for what happened to me because it’s always easier to blame a stranger than someone you—”
“Love?” I fill in the blanks when he pauses. It makes sense.
“I’m sorry, Lucy. I want to remember, I really do.”
“It’s fine, Sam. I know it’s not your fault. You can’t force love.” I lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling, tears spilling from the corner of my eyes.
In a way, I’m glad Sam has explained his behavior. He woke, stuck in a universe where I don’t exist. I tried pushing my memories onto him, desperate for him to remember, but in turn, I ended up pushing him away. And by doing that, I pushed myself closer to Saxon.
I don’t realize what’s happening until Samuel is crawling onto me from the foot of the bed. I freeze, forgetting to breathe when I feel his weight settle on my body.
“Maybe we could make new memories?” he offers, his breath bathing my flesh. He lowers his lips to my neck and kisses over my frantic pulse.
The touch feels nice, but it doesn’t send a tingle to my toes. It doesn’t have me pawing at Sam, needing to feel him against every inch of my body.
“I know what you like. I read it in your diary,” he thickly says against my throat. “I read how you loved me touching you.” As if on cue, he runs his hand down between the valley of my breasts, slipping his fingers inside my plunging neckline. “I read how I was the only man who made you come.” I gasp, his fingertip circling my left nipple.
I’m struggling to breathe and I don’t know if I’m robbed of air because I’m turned on, or because I’m desperate to flee.
Sam flicks the front clasp on my bra, it peels away, uncovering my breasts. He doesn’t waste a second and replaces the cup with his palm. His hand is hot against my skin, his fondling feeling desperate and rushed.
“Sam,” I protest, attempting to push his hand away, but my plea dies in my throat when he sucks over my carotid pulse in a long, wet pull. I arch my head back, exposing more of my neck as this is one of my most favorite places to be kissed. I have no doubt Sam knows this because he read about it in my diary.
I should feel betrayed that he read so much of my personal thoughts, but as he continues cupping and kneading my breast, sucking on my neck as he slips a hand between my thighs, all I can think about is how long it’s been since he touched me like this.
I feel him growing hard against my stomach as he heats up the contact, circling over my core with two skillful fingers. My starved body is responsive to his touch and I whimper, needing more. Sam reads my desperation and quickens the speed of his fingers.
I need to stop this before it gets out of hand, but Sam’s hands all over me reveal that it’s too late. A niggling thought scratching at the surface seals my fate. Saxon is down the hall doing the exact thing to Piper. Why do I need to stop? Having sex with my fiancé may just be what I’ve needed to find my way through the storm and make things right again.
“Make love to me, Sam,” I frantically whisper, my fingers fumbling over his belt buckle. Those words seem to be the key to unlocking the hostility we’ve found ourselves in.
Our impassioned moans fill the air as I yank open his jeans, dragging them down his thighs as he almost rips the belt off my waist. Just as I grab a hold of his red hot erection, he roughly flips me onto my stomach and tears the romper from my body. The material is stretchy, with no buttons or zips, so he maneuvers it off with ease. He doesn’t bother taking it all off, satisfied when my back and ass is exposed.
He scoops a hand under my belly, positioning me on all fours. I feel incredibly exposed displayed this way, especially since it showcases my scars. Just as I attempt to turn over, Sam wraps a hand around my waist and positions his blunt head at my entrance. I’m not ready yet. He hasn’t even dipped in his toe to test the waters. But it appears he doesn’t care and is happy to dive straight into the deep end.
“Sam, wait!” I cry when he presses against me.
“Oh, shit, sorry,” he says, easing up the pressure.
He’s still pushed against, but thankfully, he runs a hand over my behind and then dips low. The moment he inserts a finger into me, I gasp, as the intrusion isn’t exactly gentle. I’m not even halfway there, as he didn’t prep me, or ensure I was ready to go.
He continues trying to warm me up, but I’m not with him. My muscles aren’t receptive of his efforts, and I don’t know why. I was into the heavy petting, but when the pants came off, it’s like my body shut up shop.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, sensing my complete lack of excitement.
I’m angry at myself for not meeting him in the middle, as he’s trying. For the first time since this nightmare began, he’s actually trying. With that thought in mind, I shake my head, determined to make this happen. “No, but maybe I could turn around?” I don’t like this detachment. I never have.
He instantly withdraws his fingers and lets me go. I flip around onto my back and timidly take off my clothes so I’m now completely nude. It’s thankfully dark and the only light source is steaming in from the curtains as the moonlight peeks out from under a cloud.
Sam slips off his t-shirt. The jeans follow soon after. We’re now both completely nude and I have never felt more awkward. He lies on top of me, shifting to get the position right. I don’t remember him being this heavy and a winded breath escapes from my lungs. I also move, trying to place my arms and legs at a comfortable angle, but all I manage to do is get us tangled into a limb pretzel.
He glances down at me, appearing to be waiting for permission. I don’t blame him, considering the last time he instigated anything I froze up like the North Pole. I take charge and wrap my arms around his neck, drawing his face towards mine. It dawns on me that we haven’t even kissed. We’re completely naked and haven’t even shared a simple kiss.
I seal my mouth over his and we come together as two strangers in the night. We’re both reacquaintin
g ourselves with one another, testing what the other likes. I have the upper hand and kiss Sam the way he used to like to be kissed. I start out slow, but Sam takes charge and sticks his tongue so far down my throat, I almost gag. He doesn’t read my aversion and continues digging around in my mouth as if he’s panning for gold.
The kiss is sloppy, messy, and clumsy, nothing like our first kiss. And nothing like my first kiss with Saxon. I really should not be thinking about that, but it’s hard not to when I have what’s currently going on in my mouth to compare it to.
Saxon’s mouth melded perfectly to mine, his tongue stroking not prodding and his lips were warm, soft. Thinking about that kiss has me losing myself in the memories and taking control. Thankfully, Sam follows my lead and we kiss like adults, not teenagers making out for the first time.
His looming bulge is hinting that he wants in and as I shift my leg to the side, he nudges against my entrance eagerly. The kiss has made me a little more receptive, and Sam can feel it. “I don’t have any protection,” he says regretfully.
“It’s okay, I’m on birth control.” I can sense his relief.
My admission has him breaking the kiss and nibbling down my throat. This is Sam’s move, a move he obviously read about in my diary. But I focus on his lips and what he’s doing down below. He’s nudging himself into me, and when I eventually let my guard down, he slips inside.
I gasp, my unaccustomed muscles adjusting to the intrusion as Sam moves within me. We’ve been connected timeless times before but this somehow feels different. Our bodies move out of time, both dancing to a different song. Sam is listening to heavy metal, while I’m dancing to the beat of my own drum.
His length stabs at me as he increases his strokes, grunting and bucking wildly, while I’m wondering where I put my hands. This is hardly romantic or even any good.
“You’re so wet, babe,” he moans happily while I cringe, feeling like a B-grade actress in a bad porno.
