Page 50 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
“A hundred and twelve, give or take.”
“And how did you get into this loop?”
“I’m not sure, but I think it has something to do with magical dumplings I ate at the night market the first time I was there. I’ve been unable to find the vendor since, though everything else about the market is the same.”
“You really think it was caused by dumplings?”
“Yeah.” I pause. “Sometimes, I think you must be pivotal to understanding all this because you’re the only person who subconsciously remembers the other June twentieths. Also, I keep running into you. First at the market, then at the bubble tea shop. It feels like it has to mean something.”
He holds my gaze but doesn’t say anything.
“So.” I swallow. “Do you believe me?”
He remains silent and the seconds tick by. I know there are seven minutes until the next customers arrive, and that seems like a vast amount of time right now.
Finally, he answers. “Yes. A time loop sounds impossible, but you’ve provided me with pretty solid proof.”
I release a breath.Thank god.
“Have you ever told me before that you’re stuck in a loop?”
“No,” I say, “though I did ask you some hypothetical questions, like what you’d do in such a situation.”
“How did I respond?”
“That you’d find the most perfect version of the day and live it over and over.”
“And going out with me—is that perfect?”
Why him?
That’s the question that pops into my mind. I mean, I thinkhe’s cute and kind and goofy in a sweet way, but that doesn’t feel like enough of an explanation. Am I drawn to him in part because I keep seeing him and he has subliminal memories of me?
Rather than saying all that, I reply, “It’s pretty good.”
“Pretty good.” He waggles his eyebrows. “But?”
“It’s tiring to introduce myself to you over and over. I love all the iterations of our first date, but I wish we could get beyond a first date.”
“Have we ever kissed?”
“Many times.”
His gaze drops to my mouth, and for a moment, I forget to breathe. It’s just the two of us, and a connection that seems to defy the rules of my world.
“It’s a shame,” he says quietly, “that I have no memory of those kisses.”
“It is.”
“They were good, were they?”
“The first time was good. The other times were amazing.” My cheeks flame as I speak, but Cam is the kind of guy you can talk to about anything. I wonder if other people feel that way with him, or if it’s just me. “As if you remembered exactly what I like.”
My skin feels hot and prickly as I recall our kisses. Against a wall, in a parkette… The whole world shrinking to his lips against mine, the need blooming inside me.
I try not to squirm on my stool.
“The thing is,” I say, “before I got stuck in this loop, I swore off romance. I’d had a bad breakup and felt it just wasn’t worth it. I hated the uncertainty of trusting and depending on someone who could pull the rug out from under me at any time. I wanted to avoid that despair. But with you, I felt safe becausewe couldn’t really have a relationship, not when I kept needing to reintroduce myself to you. Except now I wish we could have June twenty-first together. June twenty-second.”
