If I Forget You (13 page)

“You got a sun lamp,” she said as soon as she entered the book repair room and noticed her plant bathed in artificial sunlight.

Heaven looked up from her work and grunted. “I decided I might as well get one before the poor plant died. It was looking rather sordid.”

Avery sat down and reached out to run her finger up the base of the lamp. It stretched up and over the plant, which was looking much better than it had the day before. She had meant to go to the store to get a lamp and forgot. Of course.

“I’ll pay you for it,” she said quickly. “How much?”

Heaven shrugged. “You don’t owe me anything. I like the extra light down here.”

Avery got to work on repairing a cracked spine, and as she set out her materials and stirred some thick, smelly glue in a paper cup, she reveled in the way the walls almost cradled the silence, as if it was sacred. Something about Heaven’s deliberate, careful mood, the taste of peanuts, the smell of the glue, made Avery comfortable but restless at the same time. This job had become something almost surreal, as if the room and everything in it, including the time that ticked away, didn’t belong in the real world. As if nothing she said here would slip into any other part of her life. Even Chloe didn’t come down here anymore. It was Heaven and Avery, working away in contented silence. Maybe it was a false sense of security, but Avery didn’t care.

“So … I’m kind of falling for three different guys,” she blurted as Heaven opened her third package of peanuts and dumped a few in her mouth. “And I thought they were all the same guy … at first.”

Heaven’s eyes widened in surprise as she chomped down on the peanuts and swiveled to face Avery. “How is that even possible?”

Avery kept stirring her glue. “Hello, it’s me we’re talking about. Notebook girl, remember? I forget everything, especially faces. Trust me, it’s possible.”

“Well, there you go.” Heaven turned back to the tub of water in front of her and slowly dipped in a piece of paper. It was then that Avery realized she knew nothing about Heaven except her last name and that her parents had been odd enough to name her Heaven. She knew little things about her, like her peanut fetish and the fact that she loved dressing in black, but outside of that
—
nothing.

“What’s your major?” Avery asked, lifting her brush from the glue so she could watch the thick substance string back into the cup.

“Psychology.” Heaven swallowed her mouthful of peanuts. “And before you ask, no, I cannot help you with your poor memory. It was probably triggered by something traumatic in your life, similar to a boulder thrown into your path. You’ll trip over it forever until you find a way to remove it … and, sorry, but I have no interest in helping you remove it.”

Avery had to hand it to Heaven for being so blunt and honest. Silence settled between them again as they worked. Maybe Heaven was right, but the problem was she couldn’t remember anything particularly tragic happening in her childhood. Her mother had made it clear that she’d been forgetful since the day she was born. It had to be something else.

Maybe she was cursed with a low IQ or general forgetfulness worse than the average person. Whatever it was, she wanted to fix it. College was supposed to be a fresh start, and she was already entangling herself in a worse web than ever before.

When her phone beeped she glanced at it on the table.

8:00 work for you?

Swallowing a lump in her throat, she cleaned off her hands and picked up the phone.

Perfect. Should we meet at your house?

Heaven looked over and smirked. “Is that one of the guys you’re falling for?”

“Yeah, we’re getting together tonight. I don’t know how to tell him I’m kind of seeing another guy at the same time.”

“I thought you said there were three of them.”

“I’m not dating the third guy. I’m just really interested in him.”

Heaven whistled under breath. “You’ve got some problems, honey. You can keep them all straight, right?”

Avery clenched her jaw. “Of course I can
—
now that I’ve sorted them out in my head. It’s fine. I’m fine. It’ll be fine.”

“That’s fine, then. Hope you have fun tonight.”

Avery stared at her phone until another message popped up.

I was thinking we could hang at my place. You cool with that?

He really was low-key.

Sounds great. See you then.

She sent the message and wondered if she should have put an exclamation point after one of the sentences. Maybe not. It was fine. Everything was fine.

* * *

It took Avery less than a minute to get to Jordan’s front door after getting ready. As casually as she could, she rang the bell and waited. He opened the door a moment later, dressed in a three-piece suit and tie.

Oh.

“Come in,” he said, grinning as he opened the door and ushered her inside. The house seemed a lot larger now that it wasn’t filled with hordes of people. The air smelled of chocolate, and when she looked up at Jordan’s face, she noticed something brown smudged across his clean-shaven cheek.

“You’ve got … there’s something …” She pointed to her own cheek and then reached out to touch his.

“Oh, whoops,” he laughed, and licked his finger to wipe away the smudge before she could reach it. “Ganache.”

“Ganache? Are you cooking?”
In a three-piece suit?

“Um, yeah, I baked a torte this afternoon before my dinner meeting. I thought since we weren’t eating dinner together, we could at least have dessert.” He glanced down at his suit, which was not only a suit, but a very expensive-looking suit. “I didn’t have time to change before you got here.”

“You look great,” she blurted, trying not to blush. “Seriously. I’m feeling really under-dressed now.” She laughed nervously and looked down at her clothes. “And I was about to change into sweats and a T-shirt.”

Looking her up and down, he smiled. “You were? Well, honestly, it wouldn’t have mattered. You look good in anything.” He reached up to loosen the Windsor knot of his slate-colored tie. He shuffled his feet for a moment, and she wondered why he seemed so nervous all of a sudden. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been in his house before.

“So, chocolate torte?” she asked, rubbing her hands together. “My aunt never makes anything with chocolate. I haven’t had a decent dessert in weeks.”

His nervousness seemed to melt away, replaced with a beaming smile. “Then you’re in for a treat.” He turned and motioned for her to follow him into the kitchen. It was clean and sparse except for a few dirtied stainless steel bowls by the sink and a pan on the gas stove. On the counter was an unfrosted chocolate torte next to an empty glass serving dish.

“You ride a bullet bike, wear three-piece suits, and … bake?”

He grinned. “Why not? My grandmother is a baker. She’s taught me a few things over the years. I don’t do it that often, but hey, this is a special occasion, so …”

She tried not to blush as she sat on a bar stool and leaned over to inspect the torte. It looked good enough to eat, even without any ganache. On the counter was a pastry brush, and she tried to picture him using it to swipe crumbs off the torte. The image didn’t seem to fit a guy like him. Then again, she hardly knew him at all. She didn’t even know what kind of guy he was.

“I don’t understand you,” she said in a soft voice, straightening to watch him lift the saucepan from the stove. “You bump into me on the stairs, and all of a sudden my being here is a special occasion?”

After a long pause, he set down the pan and shrugged. “Maybe I just want to get lucky tonight.”

Her mouth dropped open. He placed his elbows on the counter and leaned forward to meet her eyes. She sat back a little and said, “Get lucky, huh? Do you always come on to your dates this fast?”

“You asked me that the night of the party, remember?” He stood straight and carefully transferred the torte to the serving dish.

No, she didn’t remember. She shook her head.

“Well, I told you I’m not like this at all. Still, you must think I’m a little, I don’t know, forward?” He lifted his eyebrows, waiting for her answer as his lips twitched at the corners. Teasing.

“Yeah, maybe a little.”

No worse than any other guy I’ve fallen for in the past week.

He let out a sigh, almost as if pushing away a part of himself. “Can I be honest with you?”

“You mean you
don’t
want to get lucky?” she joked, but it came out sounding much too serious. Could this be any more awkward? She stared at her hands, waiting for his reply.

He blanched. “Oh … well, uh … I didn’t really mean we had to …” He trailed off and grabbed the saucepan, suddenly seeming absorbed in the task of positioning it over the torte.

Her stomach sank about a foot and a half into nothingness. She knew him liking her had to be too good to be true. At least she still had Kent, unless she managed to mess that up in the next few days.

But as she looked up at Jordan’s perfectly styled hair, the swift movement of his arm as he tipped the pan and expertly poured the ganache over the torte, her heart beat faster at the sight of him than it ever had for Kent. It made her wonder why she had even liked Kent to begin with. Was it because she had thought he was Jordan? It couldn’t be that. Making out with Kent had been amazing. Her date with him had been amazing, but maybe that was because she had nothing else to compare it to.

“The truth is,” Jordan said slowly, still focused on the torte to avoid looking at her, “my sister challenged me to get a date for next weekend.”

He couldn’t mean he’d asked her out as part of a challenge. She said nothing, waiting for him to explain further as the ganache spread smoothly over the torte, quickly setting as it dripped down the sides. Her mouth grew so dry she was afraid she might have to rush to the sink for a drink of water.

“We’re going out to dinner with my parents,” Jordan quickly explained after glancing up at her horrified expression. “It’s a tradition every month to try to keep our little family together since the divorce, to keep the peace, I guess. I ran into you on the stairs and thought maybe I could take you, but I promise I was genuinely interested. I still am. I just thought you should know.” Cringing, he finished with the ganache and set the pan aside. He glanced at her again, practically shrinking in front of her. “Are you upset?”

She looked at the torte and then up at him, her mouth opening and closing for a few seconds before she could find words. It felt like someone had shoved a handful of cotton into her mouth. “I’m a convenient date, then? A challenge? That’s … it?”

He shook his head and pushed a hand through his hair, messing up the combed style. For the first time since she’d walked through the door, he seemed flustered and nervous. “Shit, I’ve screwed this up, haven’t I?”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say,” she finally managed to respond. “I’m not sure what you
—
”

“I really like you so far, Avery.” He gripped the edges of the counter, avoiding her eyes. “But I haven’t dated anyone in so long. For reasons I don’t want to get into right now, I hardly even
talk
to women these days if I can avoid it. Still, I wouldn’t have had the courage to talk to you on the stairs if it wasn’t for my sister’s challenge.” He put a hand to his forehead and groaned. “Actually, I wouldn’t have talked to you at all if I hadn’t physically run into you. I guess that accident forced me to finally talk to someone as pretty as you.” He lifted his eyes to hers, the sincerity in them running so deep she wanted to reach out and touch him. “I’m glad we ran into each other,” he said with a soft smile. “I’m glad it knocked a little sense into me because I think I can really like getting to know you. Maybe it’s time for me to get out of my rut.” He looked away again. “Anyway, I just want you to know that’s how all this started.”

Maybe it really was okay. At least he was being up front with her. That meant something.

“I appreciate the honesty,” she said slowly, “but you seem pretty popular around here. How is it possible you rarely date or talk to women?”

Letting out a long sigh, he stared down at the counter. “Again, it’s not something I want to get into right now.”

Avery cringed and bit her tongue. Right. He had just said that and she’d forgotten already.

He looked up at her. “Do you want a drink? Should we go hang out in the living room?”

She shrugged. “I don’t drink.”

His eyes widened. “You don’t?”

“I told you that at your party, didn’t I?”

“Oh, right, I forgot.” He walked to the sink and started rinsing out the pan. “How the hell could I forget that?”

So she wasn’t the only one forgetting things around here.

“It’s all right,” she laughed. “Really, I’ll take whatever you’ve got that’s non-alcoholic.”

He left the pan in the sink and turned around. “The police aren’t going to come knocking on my door any second, so I think it would be okay for you to drink if you want to. Some wine might loosen us both up, you know?”

“That’s true, it might,” she said, sliding off the stool and walking around the counter to him. “Is this still about getting lucky?”

He rolled his eyes and brushed a hand across his forehead, leaving a streak of ganache above his left eyebrow. He still had some on his fingers from rinsing out the pan. “Let’s forget about the getting lucky confession,” he said almost a little too seriously. “That was stupid of me.”

Stepping close enough to touch him, she reached up and wiped the ganache from his forehead. He didn’t back away. In fact, he moved a little closer, his eyes fastened to hers. He was warm, and as her skin brushed against his, she felt that same spark from before. It sent tingles all the way to her toes. “Thanks, Avery.”

“Any time.” She smiled and licked the chocolate off her finger, keeping her gaze on his gorgeous blue eyes. What was she doing? This was supposed to be an innocent date. If she started making out with him like she’d done with Kent, what did that mean? She wasn’t a player. Or … well, maybe she was at this point. She should probably tell Jordan the truth now, just like he’d told her the truth.