Remembering Us (16 page)

“Quarters!” I shout, the one word turning into four syllables as it rolls over my heavy and numb tongue.

Adam laughs and puts an empty cup in the middle of the table. “Tired of being the only drunk one?” He kisses my cheek and I nudge him sideways with my shoulders.

“I have to get the advantage somehow.”

His eyes rake over my entire body sitting next to him in the booth. I don’t know what he sees. In his black hooded sweatshirt, my unwashed hair thrown up into a bun, and my grey yoga pants, I don’t look flattering at all. But Adam looks at me like he did this morning when he woke me up, naked, and made us so distracted we were almost late for our finals.

I feel naked under his hooded gaze, like I always do, as one of his eyebrows quirk up into a playful expression.

“I’d let you take advantage of me anytime.”

“It’s not taking advantage if you’re willing,” I remind him, saying the same thing he’s said to me many times since we began dating.

“Gah! Enough, you sex fiends,” Kelsey scolds us from across the table, but it’s not like her and Zander are any different.

“Okay.” I slam my palms on the table and then reach for the quarter Adam is holding between his thumb and forefinger. I state the rules even though they’re not necessary; there’s only one. “Miss a shot, take a shot.”

I ping the quarter off the wooden table and it lands directly into the empty glass.

We go around the table and everyone misses except me. Who knew I would be so good at quarters? I make them play it all the time because no one beats me. Ever.

The memory fades and I blink my eyes. When I shake my head, clearing my mind, Adam is back at the table next to me with a worried expression on his face.

“Are you okay?” Adam asks, and lightly squeezes my hand underneath the table. I look around the bar and the girl he was talking to is hanging all over some other guy. Kelsey is now sitting next to Zander and both are eyeing me cautiously.

The warmth of his hand feels exactly the same way I imagined it felt in my memory. Maybe it’s the liquor coursing through my veins that makes me no longer care about whatever girl Adam has ever been with. Maybe it’s the fact that even if I don’t remember everything, I’m beginning – finally – to remember Adam, and he isn’t as sketchy as I originally believed it was.

Maybe it’s just because I’m horny and Adam is sexy as sin with his jet black hair that falls haphazardly around his ears, a little bit messed up from the long day, and all I can think about is running my fingers through it, pulling him to me, and feeling his lips against mine.

“Yeah,” I say, a little bit breathlessly and then smile mischievously. “You guys all suck.”

I point at each of them and when they don’t respond, I dig through my wallet, dragging out a quarter.

Then I clear off a clean space on the shot glass littered table in front of me.

Adam throws his head back and laughs. “That’s what you just remembered?” he asks when he sees the silver coin in my hand.

I smirk at all of them, looking at Kelsey and Zander across the table who both groan.

“Miss a shot, take a shot.” I bounce the quarter on the table, and just like in my vision, it hits the wood and bounces into the shot glass I left in the center of the table.

I clap my hands, cheering excitedly. I continuing laughing as every single one of them miss when it’s their turn. Adam throws his arm around my shoulder after he misses his second shot and pulls me to him, his hand feeling warmer than normal against my skin.

He presses his lips against my temple softly and whispers into my ear, “I hate this fucking game.”

I lift my chin, looking up at him, and see the same heated expression I saw in my memory. “That’s because you always lose.”

Kelsey smiles widely at me from across the table, clearly happy that I’ve remembered something good.

“Let me help you,” Adam rasps out in a deep voice that I’m not sure I’ve heard before. His hands cup my shoulders as he gently steadies me on the edge of the bed.

“I’m fine,” I slur, swaying back and forth. Adam chuckles and bends down on his knees in front of me. His head drops as he begins unbuckling the straps on my heels. My ankles and feet are killing me from walking home from The Library where we left Zander and Kelsey. Neither of us were okay to drive, and we don’t live far, so I leaned against Adam the entire walk home.

He kept an arm around my waist, holding me to him, letting me inhale his cologne that smells spicy and masculine and has only served to increase my lust for him.

I don’t care that I’m drunk. I have a desire to connect with him other than in the cloudy memories.

“I had fun tonight.”

I stare down at him when he looks up at me from his position on the floor. He’s in between my legs, massaging my ankle.

His lips turn up into a smile and he takes a deep breath. I can see his struggle to allow me my space, to give me time, but I don’t want it anymore.

Not tonight.

I raise my hand and his body freezes.

His eyes watch as my fingers gently push back some of the hair that has fallen onto his forehead. He inhales a quick breath while I exhale slowly, my fingers slightly shaking. His hair is softer and thicker than I thought it would feel as I let it slide through my hands.

One of his hands reach up and grabs onto my wrist. His lips press a gentle kiss on the pulse point and he holds it to his lips for longer than necessary.

I’m frozen in time, the only sound in the room is the increased breathing between the both of us. I bite the inside of my cheek, thinking - hoping - he’s going to continue kissing up my arm and to my neck where I already know what it feels like to have his unshaven scruff scratch against my sensitive skin.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he lowers my hand to my lap. His eyes are full of regret when he shakes his head.

“I can’t do this, Amy. Not when you’re drunk.”

He leans back so he’s sitting on his heels and stares at me, watching me for acceptance.

I refuse to give it to him.

“It’s not taking advantage if they’re willing,” I whisper, repeating back to him what I remembered just a few hours earlier.

I see his strength crack slightly as he stands up and leans over me. I raise my chin, staring him straight in the eyes when his hands cup my chin. His strong hands hold me gently as he peers into my face, debating what to do.

“I love you too much to hurt you …” His voice trails off and his eyes close tightly. His fingers twitch against my skin. I want to ask him what else he was going to say, but then he opens his eyes and stares at me, determined. “I can’t hurt you.”

“Please,” I say, reaching out and take hold of his wrists. I feel his pulse beneath my fingers and I know it’s faster than it should be. “Let me feel you. You said it’s what we’ve always done best. I need this tonight.”

I stand up and take a step closer to him, my chest brushing lightly against his, and I hear him grind his teeth together.

“Ames.”

“Please, Adam.”

I pull his hands off my cheeks and then I slowly lift my fitted, vintage Eagles shirt over my head and drop it on the floor at our feet.

Adam watches it fall to the ground and slowly drags his eyes over my body and my naked chest, surprised that I wasn’t wearing a bra.

His hands grip my hips and he pulls me to him, my breasts hitting the soft blue shirt he’s still wearing.

I want to rip it off and feel his skin against mine, but I know I can’t push him too far or else he’ll leave. And this is the first time I haven’t wanted him to go anywhere.

Not now.

His tongue darts out and I watch him lick his lips before he frowns, still fighting what I can see he so clearly wants.

“You can’t hate me in the morning for this.”

I don’t answer. Mostly because I can’t.

This could be the biggest mistake I’ve ever made, but I don’t want to stop now.

I feel exactly like I did in every memory I remember having. Being around Adam makes me feel completely out of control and it’s the first time it hasn’t scared the hell out of me.

I feel empowered. Like everything he’s told me is true and with him I can be anybody I’ve ever wanted, but mostly I can be myself.

“Kiss me,” I say softly, and watch his resolve break.

He pulls me even closer to him so there isn’t a single place we’re not connected. I can feel everything. His shirt against my skin, the roughness of his jeans pressing against my legs, and one hand leaves my hip, gripping the back of my neck tightly.

Our lips meet in a passion that is unparalleled to anything I’ve experienced in my life. I was expecting timidity from him, but instead I feel a confidence and a desperation pouring into me as I open my mouth and curl my tongue against his, accepting him willingly.

My hands grab the back of Adam’s head and I pull him closer to me, telling him that I want this, and I revel in the groan that escapes his lips.

He ends the kiss abruptly and I hold on to him, afraid that he’s going to change his mind, and I don’t know why, but I can’t let that happen.

Not tonight.

Not now, when for the first time since I’ve woken up from my coma that I feel like maybe this is where I really belong.

With him.

“On the bed.”

My eyes snap to his. His eyes are almost completely black. The commanding order takes me by surprise, and I freeze, suddenly nervous.

He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t do anything except let go of my body. I shiver when the warmth of his hands leave me.

“What?” I shift back and forth on my feet, nervous.

Or I sway because of the alcohol. I’m not sure.

He doesn’t say anything else as he pulls his shirt at the back of his neck and takes it off, dropping it onto the floor next to mine.

“Lay down, Amy.”

My lips twitch to argue back, but something in me doesn’t want to.

For the first time, a voice inside I’ve never heard tells me to trust him. That he’ll take care of me and that he won’t hurt me.

I unzip my skirt and do what I’m told, slowly moving back to the bed, and lay down in the center.

I watch Adam squeeze his hands into fists and then stretch his fingers out. His breathing is heavy as he stands on the side of the bed watching me, and my skin lights up with goose bumps from head to toe.

“I can’t take advantage of you tonight,” he says with a deep rumble in his voice and begins slowly climbing over me.

He braces himself up on his hands, his knees in between my legs, pushing my knees apart. He still has his jeans on and the roughness of the denim against my sensitive skin makes my legs tremble. “But I can make you feel good.”

A whimper escapes my mouth.

I stare at him, my lips parted and my breathing ragged.

“God you’re beautiful,” he whispers against my lips when he lowers his mouth and gently brushes his lips over mine. I reach up to press against him harder, but he pulls away, smirking.

He shakes his head. “Let me give this to you tonight.”

I’m about to ask him what he means, but then his hand leaves the bed next to my head and he presses into the skin of my abdomen.

My breath hitches and I raise my head to kiss him again. I want to taste him, to become familiar with him, even though I don’t understand why.

Not completely.

But he doesn’t let me do it.

His head is bent down and he’s watching his own hand roam slowly across my stomach. His fingers graze over my healing, large scar on the right side of my stomach, and he drops his head to my chest.

His hand stills on me, and I bring one of my hands up, running my hand through his hair.

“It’s okay,” I whisper against him.

It’s not and we both know it.

He shakes his forehead against my chest and I feel his hot breath on my breast as he exhales loudly.

I shift under him, my body burning, and I try to pull my legs together to relieve some sort of the pressure that’s down there, but I can’t because his legs are in the way.

All I do is shift against his hardness and Adam lets out a low groan.

I think it’s because he’s as turned on as me, but then he raises his head and stares me straight in the eyes.

He’s just inches from me and his hand brushes against my scar again.

“I can’t do this to you.” He presses his lips to mine quickly, but his eyes have already gone cold. “Good night, Amy.”

My eyes widen and I gasp. “Adam.”

My hand on the back of his head tightens. I try to pull him toward me, but he’s too strong.

He pulls away and climbs off the bed, reaching down only to grab his shirt on the floor, and then the door to my room slams shut.

It all happens before I can understand why. I don’t understand the look of disgust he gave me when his hand touched my scar or why he suddenly seemed angry and frustrated.

I fall asleep with tears falling down my cheeks, not caring that my mascara is going to be all over my pillow and sheets in the morning.

He just left me, naked and wanting him for the first time in as long as I can remember, without any sort of explanation as to why. And I hate the feeling eating at me, like I’ve done something wrong or disappointed him in some way.