If I Forget You (25 page)

“Are you kidding? Girls stay here all the time,” he laughed. “The guys won’t mind, I promise. They can behave themselves, and if they don’t, I’ll kill them for you.”

She smirked as he held open a bedroom door. “This is my space. I can sleep on the couch in the living room for as long as you’re here.”

“I can’t take your whole room.”

“Sure you can. You won’t have any privacy otherwise, trust me. It’s only until Jordan gets back, right?”

“Yeah, Monday.”

“Then I’ll be fine.” He leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms. He seemed quite pleased to be helping her out.

“How’s the dating coming along?” she asked as she set her bag on the floor next to his dresser. She’d packed quickly, knowing if Chloe found out she was leaving she’d try to get her to stay and talk about what was bothering her. She had waited until Chloe left for the store, and then she’d stuck a note on the front door saying she’d be back Monday night. The bus ride to Owen’s street only took five minutes, so she wasn’t even far away.

“I’ve got one tonight,” Owen answered, smiling as he looked around his room. She could tell he was looking at it through a different pair of eyes now, wondering what she was going to think.

“Oh? What are you going to do?”

“Dinner and a movie. Are you sure you’ll be okay here by yourself?”

“I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“There’s a Greek place down the road if you get hungry. I can’t guarantee there’s anything in the fridge.” He groaned to himself and glanced down the hallway. “Actually, don’t even go into the kitchen if you know what’s good for you. It’s pretty bad.”

“I can only imagine.” A house full of college guys was an adventure in and of itself, she realized. But it was better than Chloe’s nagging. It was incredibly nice of Owen to have answered her phone call and invite her over the second she said she was feeling lonely, stranded, and desperate to stay somewhere other than home.

“I should be back by eleven. If you need anything, I’ve got this.” He lifted his phone and smiled. “I’ve got to get going. My cab should be here any minute. Can’t really take my date out on the back of my bike.”

“You’re really sweet, Owen. Thanks.” She rushed forward and hugged him, her heart pounding in her chest. It wasn’t that she had romantic feelings for him. In fact, in the past few weeks as they’d studied together she’d become less attracted to him and more enamored of his friendship than anything else. The fact that he actually cared about her and respected her space and decisions was mind-blowing.

He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed once. “You’re welcome. You sure you’ll be fine?”

“Absolutely. I’ll get some homework done.”

He pulled away and nudged her shoulder. “Don’t study too hard. It’s Saturday. See you later.”

When he was gone, Avery shut his bedroom door and poked around some of the stuff in his room. He was certainly into marine biology, just as he’d said. Posters covered his walls: pictures of the ocean, the periodic table, diagrammed fish. His little bookshelf was filled with school textbooks and no fiction. She didn’t see a fish tank, which made her laugh. She turned to his bed. It was really the only comfortable place to sit. Settling there made her nervous for a moment, but it passed. She checked her phone and listened to a message from Chloe.

“Hi, Avery. I got your note on the door. Thanks for telling me where you’ll be this time. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. Be safe, okay?”

Avery looked at her phone, her heart sinking. Why did she feel like she was always hurting people no matter what she did? She set her phone on Owen’s brown quilt and started tracing the squares with her finger. There was something about that ginger tea jar that wouldn’t stop nagging at her. She’d had a cup of it last night, she was sure of it now. She couldn’t remember making it, but maybe Kent had?

She kept tracing the squares on the quilt, digging deeper into the black void of her memory. Like feathers floating in the air, fragments of images bounced up and down, taunting her. She reached for them, grabbing and catching nothing. Then one came into full focus and she gasped. She was riding in Kent’s Jeep. He’d put the heater on, and she felt so tired. Good, but tired, as if someone had taken twenty pounds off her body and set her on a light, fluffy pillow to go to sleep. If she turned too fast she felt queasy, but other than that nothing felt bad. If anything, she felt happy.

The porch light was on when Kent pulled into the driveway. Then she was on the front steps and Kent was pulling a note off the door. Avery snatched it from his fingers and focused hard on the words.

I went out with some friends. I’ll be back around one. XOXO

“Went out with friends?” she asked nobody in particular. “Chloe doesn’t have friends.”

“I’m sure she has friends,” Kent chuckled, slipping the key from her hand and putting it into the lock. “She’s a grown woman, isn’t she?”

Then she was in the kitchen watching Kent from the kitchen table, thinking about him on the ice rink, sweat dripping down his brow. Mostly, she thought about how sad he had looked when he’d talked about his mom.

“Here, drink this. You’ll feel better,” he said, setting a cup of tea in front of her. The sharp scent of ginger and lemon surrounded her.

“Thanks, Kent. This is nice of you.”

“No problem.”

She sipped the hot drink, savoring the spiciness and warmth as it went down her throat. It felt soothing. Kent started talking about English class and then he laughed. She laughed too, even though she had no idea what was so funny.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, reaching out to touch her cheek. She didn’t try to stop him. His hand felt good there. It felt comforting, even though she wasn’t sure why she needed to be comforted. Then out of nowhere she felt her pillow beneath her head. Kent was somewhere close by, his breath on her face, his hands tugging at something on her hips.

“What … what’s happening?” she mumbled, squeezing her eyes shut as the dizziness kept coming in waves.

“Shhh, relax.”

She felt cold all of a sudden. More tugging. Something sharp scratched her thigh, but then Kent’s lips were close to her ear. Hands pushed on her legs, forcing them apart. Pain. She tried to twist on her side, but couldn’t move.

“Kent, I …”

“Shhhh …”

His voice floated around her like dandelion tufts in the wind. She reached out to touch one, but the room spun again. Something heavy pinned down her shoulders. Pain once more, deep in her abdomen, between her legs, then a low, deep groan in her ear. Tears slid down her cheeks. Something was terribly wrong. She knew what was happening, but it didn’t make any sense. Kent wouldn’t hurt her like this. He was her friend. The bed seemed to tilt on its side and she grabbed her blankets, afraid of rolling onto the floor. Crying out, she felt damp skin. A wrist. Fingers. Kent squeezed her hand.

“Go to sleep, Avery. You won’t even remember this by morning.”

* * *

The worst thing about memories was time. Some of Avery’s fondest memories were so warped and tainted she often wasn’t sure how truly accurate they were. They were worn-out boxes inside her head, opened over and over and over, while others remained closed. Locked.

When it came to the memory of what had happened last night, Avery wanted to lock it up and forget about it, but she knew it was impossible. It was becoming a box she opened up repeatedly in a desperate attempt to make sense of it. She wished Kent had been right about her forgetting it, but he’d underestimated her crazy brain and the way it stored information.

By 10:30 she was a wreck, bursting into tears then calming herself down only to remember what had happened all over again. How could she have been so stupid? So naïve? Or had Kent just been especially good at fooling her?

She stood in the middle of Owen’s room, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as the sounds of his housemates reverberated outside the bedroom. She rushed forward and locked the door, her hands damp with sweat. There was laughing and a football game on TV. Somebody walked down the hall, passing the door. Each time she heard a noise, she took another step backward, finally ending up at the far wall, her body trembling as she sank to the floor and pressed her face to her knees. She kept her crying as quiet as possible, but the tears wouldn’t stop. It had all been her fault. She’d been stupid to go to that party in the first place.

Hours seemed to pass as she cowered against the wall until somewhere past her muffled sobs she heard a soft rap on the door.

“Ave? You okay in there? I’m home.”

Owen. She couldn’t face him now. She couldn’t face anyone. Her face turned hot as she stumbled to her feet and glanced out the window, wishing she could leave. Her crying must have been louder than she’d thought.

“I-I’m fine,” she called out as steadily as she could. “I hope you had a good time.”

There was a long pause. “You don’t sound fine. Can you open the door? I won’t come inside if you don’t want.”

She tensed as the memory of Kent pinning her down on the bed slammed into her like a freight train. “I … I …”

“Avery, please.”

Slowly, each step heavy, she walked across the room and put her hand on the door lock. She clicked it to the right then twisted the knob, inching the door open until a thin sliver of space was between her and Owen. She could make out his nose and chin.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked. “The guys said they heard you crying in here. They said it’s been going on for hours.”

Great. The walls were probably as thin as paper. “I can’t talk about it,” she whispered as she ran a finger along the edge of the door.

“Do you have your phone? Do you need to call Jordan?”

Jordan. She hadn’t even thought about calling him. She imagined telling him her disjointed memory. If she did tell him, she knew it couldn’t be over the phone. But he wouldn’t want to hear about it. Who would?

Taking a deep breath, she let go of the door and stepped backward. “Owen, I …”

He opened the door, his face ashen as he looked at her. “You don’t have to explain anything,” he said gently, not making any move toward her. “I’ll be here, okay? If you need anything, I’ll be right here.”

With that, he backed away until the door clicked shut. She rushed forward to lock it again. For a long moment she felt the same as when she’d sipped that ginger tea
—
as if the world was spinning out of control. Her mind was fuzzy and blank. When she turned to look out the window, reflections of the streetlights glistened on the road as rain drizzled from the sky. She shut her eyes and felt nothing.

* * *

Avery had no idea what time it was when she woke up on Sunday. A blanket of dark clouds hid the sun. Rain pattered against Owen’s window, sliding down the panes in crooked, transparent lines. Owen’s bed smelled like bacon for some reason, or maybe that was coming from the kitchen. Her stomach growled, probably because she hadn’t eaten since Friday evening. Groaning, she rolled over and tried to push away the memories of the party and Kent. She would get past this and move on. It was possible. It wasn’t any worse than her father dying, and she’d finally learned how to deal with that.

When she made it to her feet, she rushed for the door so she could find the bathroom. She’d had to pee since last night, but she had been too frightened to leave the bedroom.

She unlocked the door and pushed it open, only to trip over something as soon as she stepped forward. She caught herself on the doorframe and looked down, confused. A grunt, and then the heavy thing on the floor moved.

“Owen?” she gasped as he rolled over to get out of the way. “What are you doing? You slept in the hallway?”

He leaned on an elbow, rubbing his right eye as he looked up at her. “Yeah,” he answered through a yawn. “I told you I’d be right here.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Does it look like I’m kidding?”

At least he’d found a sleeping bag. Avery stared down at him, not sure if she should laugh or cry. “Well, thanks,” she said. “I mean, seriously … that was really nice of you.”

“Not a problem. You want some breakfast? I guess the guys are attempting to cook bacon this morning. We’re lucky they didn’t party last night so they’re not all hung over. Honestly, I think they’re finally getting tired of it.”

She laughed. “Breakfast sounds great, but I’ve got to find your bathroom first. Sorry.”

“Oh, right. It’s around the corner.”

“Thanks.”

When she’d finished in the bathroom and made sure she didn’t look too much like a zombie, she found the kitchen and realized Owen hadn’t been exaggerating yesterday. The sink was piled high with dirty dishes and the floor was splattered with something resembling dried spaghetti sauce covered in toast crumbs. The table seemed clean enough.

Three guys, all in boxer shorts, looked up as she entered. They didn’t seem to mind a girl wandering into their kitchen, but they seemed surprised to see
her
, the girl they’d heard crying all night long. Owen was at the table with a bowl of cereal, his spoon halfway to his mouth as he looked up at her.

“Hey,” the guy at the stove said, nodding to her. “You want some bacon and eggs? I’m cooking for everybody.”

“Yeah, thanks.” She tried not to look at his naked chest and abs as she walked to the table and slid into the chair next to Owen. She was starting to wish she was back at home with Chloe.

“We don’t have to stick around here all day,” Owen said through a mouthful of cereal. “Tell me where you want to go and we’ll go.”

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” another guy asked as he poured himself a bowl of cereal and sat across from Owen.

“Oh, right.” Owen smiled weakly. “Avery, this is Spencer, and over at the stove is our Master Chef, David, and next to him is Levi, who attempts to help him by cracking eggs into a bowl. Notice how much he has to concentrate.”

“Shut up, man,” Levi grumbled. “You’re gonna be eating these eggs. Want me to spit in yours?”