Page 37 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
He sets his mouth to mine, and it’s… different. I can tell that immediately. There’s no initial awkwardness, and I don’t think it’s just because my last proper kiss was only three days ago, rather than years ago.
No, there’s something different inhim. As if he remembers. He doesn’t say as much, but his body tells me that he does. He knows what I like the most. It’s mere seconds before I’m softly moaning against him. My hands slip under his shirt, and he hisses out a breath.
This time, I know we won’t be interrupted by my phone because, first of all, Avery’s actions aren’t on the same schedule every day, and second of all, I’ve set my phone to silent.
He presses me against the wall, and when I arch against him, his mouth slides to my neck. God, how am I so sensitive? One of his hands slips down to grip my ass, and I can feel his erection against my thigh.
“How did you end up at the brewery today?” he whispers.
I don’t answer; I just keep kissing him.
When his lips leave mine again, I squeak in protest. He turns, and I follow his gaze.
“Is that a skunk?” I ask.
“Looks like it.”
Goddammit. I wonder if it’s the same one who sprayed me in the cemetery. Thankfully, after watching us for a moment, it scurries off.
“I should go,” Cam says, “much as I’d like to stay here withyou. I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow, but I’m free on Sunday. Does that work for you?”
“Yeah, it does.”
I feel a touch of sorrow that he won’t remember me tomorrow. There’s a chance he’ll remember a little more than he did today, but he probably won’treallyremember.
I try to focus on the fact that I can repeat this day with him. I swore off relationships after Dave, but this isn’t really a relationship. How can it be, when I have to keep telling him my name? It’s just a little fun, and I deserve that, don’t I?
Besides, he might be important to figuring out the time loop.
When Cam and I part, I pull out my phone and text Avery to ask where she’s staying tonight. I should have done that earlier.
She informs me that she’s broken up with Joe again, although this time, she’s insisted he spend the night at his parents’ so she can have the apartment to herself.
The next day, Avery and I meet for coffee again. We sit outside, the weather as pleasantly warm as it always is on June 20.
“Yesterday,” she says, “I donated a thousand dollars and volunteered at a food bank—Iinsistedthey let me come in that afternoon—to see if doing good deeds would help. But they didn’t. I don’t know what to do.” She pauses. “You’re an engineer. Could you, like, build something to get us out of this?”
“I can’t fix a problem if I don’t understand it at all, and we haven’t made much progress in understanding this.”
“I’m just so tired of being stuck.”
“I know.”
Here I am, getting the chance to relive a great first date andfirst kiss, and she keeps waking up next to her ex and has a never-ending period.
I’m not sure I’m doing a very good job at this being-a-good-friend business, but I don’t know what I can do other than listen and perhaps offer suggestions, however unlikely they might seem. Anything that might give her a bit of hope.
“Traditional Chinese medicine!” I say suddenly. “What if this is happening because our qi is blocked? If we restore balance, maybe the passage of time will become unblocked for us too.”
“Do you mean acupuncture?” Avery asks.
“Yeah, but there are other things as well. How about you get acupuncture, and I’ll go to an herbalist?”
“It’s worth a try.”
The next day, I make a trip to a Chinese herbalist. I explain my problems to a man who’s at least eighty-five and doesn’t look at me like I’m batshit crazy. He confesses it isn’t something that he’s personally treated before, though he’s heard of such a case. Unfortunately, he can’t provide any details about that case, but he gives me a concoction of interesting-looking herbs to try and explains how to prepare them.
At home, I soak and boil them for the prescribed amount of time, in a clay pot that I bought along with the herbs. As I wait for them to be ready, I recall there was a subtle flavor in the old woman’s dumplings that was unlike any dumpling I’d had before. I couldn’t figure it out, but maybe it’s one of these herbs? And maybe tasting it again will break the curse?
