Page 16 of Crash into me

I of course could have gone to the store myself, but I didn’t want to deal with the repercussions of the discussion it would turn into about what food I’m putting into my body. Normally, Mrs. Rita keeps the fridge stocked with good stuff, and they're not here, so nothing is ever said.

But she’s getting settled in and already went home to Mario. So earlier tonight, when Rita knocked on my door to ask what I wanted to eat, I told her I was full. I don’t want to bother her, and I’m sure this week I’ll be eating her world-famous roast.

I took a long, hot shower, attempting to pamper myself with sugar scrubs and hair masks. But nothing worked; I feel distant from my life. So, my shower consisted of my tears mixing in with the streaming water.

I slipped on my silk pajamas, feeling a little better after a good cry.

Not to mention how soft my legs will feel on clean sheets after a nice, exfoliating shave.

Rain patters against the window.

That will help me sleep. I sink into my sheets, collapsing my head onto my pillow. The rain stops, then starts again.

I lift my head; the sound is centered in front of me. It’s more like trickle, and it’s not happening constantly. Ting, ting, ting.

Oh my God.

I tip-toe, hoping and praying that it’s just Brett or Kate coming to check on me. I peer down, watching as Foster crawls up the lattice like he’s done so many times before.

I mean, this guy is unstoppable. He thinks I don’t remember him, yet he’s going to scale my house to open my window?

I pull it open myself and inhale a deep breath of refreshing night air before he arrives in front of me. His fingers curl around my windowsill. “Can I come in?”

I don’t respond; I just look him over for a brief moment. I watch the way the wind tickles his hair that dances above his brow line. How his eyes that match the night sky roam over my body, checking on me.

“What are you doing here?”

He grins. “Coming to see you.”

I throw my hands up. “I don’t know who you are,” I lie.

“Well, I know you,” he replies, climbing in without my permission.

I cross my arms, a surprised laugh escaping me. What if I really didn’t know him? How scary would that be? But really, there’s nothing scary about him. To other people, maybe, but to me … he’s just a walking sex god.

I collect myself. “You can’t just walk into my room like that.”

“Listen, Freckles, I don’t want to rush you, but your memory isn’t coming back fast enough for my liking, so I’m going to speed up the process.” He slowly walks towards me, as if he’s going to pull me in for a long, passionate kiss.

As if he thinks his lips could reverse memory loss. I look to his mouth, thinking we should give it a try, for the sake of my heart. But obviously, I can’t do that. “I don’t know who you think you are!”

He extends his arm; he wasn't coming in for a kiss, but a handshake. “I’m Ghost, but you can call me Foster.”

He doesn't know why I snort, but it’s because I remember. And I remember meeting him for the first time and that Foster would have never ever told me to call him by his real name. “Okay, Ghost,” I reply slyly. “You can go now.” I hate being so cold, and the words really do break my heart, but nothing is as gut wrenching as the way he’s looking at me right now.

So hopeful, and arrogant, and hauntingly beautiful.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

You know that feeling when you’re about to cry? And your lungs constrict and a massive, immovable ball forms in your throat. That’s what’s happening to me, and it’s making it extremely difficult to speak. “Why did you come here?”I’m so happy you came here.

“To check on you.” He smiles, and it’s such a perfect sight that I nearly pass out. “And give you this.” He pulls something from his hoodie pocket.

I narrow my eyes. The room is dark, but I’d know that bright yellow wrapping from a mile away. The Burger Joint. “What is it?” I ask.

“It’s your favorite thing—well, besides me of course.” He laughs deeply.

I wave my hand in front of me, trying to hide the drool. “Oh, no thank you. I don’t really like fast food.”

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