Page 75 of The Girl I Once Loved

“Tell me about your favorite memory from the last seven years,” he suddenly says, and I blink in surprise…and wariness.

This is supposed to be about sex. Talking about…things…seems like a dangerous path.

He has one hand propping up his head, his muscles bulging, and his finger is softly tracing my skin in a lazy, smooth pattern.

Nothing about his gaze is lazy though, he’s staring at me with so much interest, so much care, that I can’t help but talk.

“Hmmm. My favorite memory…that’s a hard thing to decide on.”

“So tell me a couple,” he says.

“Well, there was freshman year Homecoming. All the freshmen would paint their faces, and wear green and white, and then we’d run around a giant bonfire while the upperclassmen cheered and yelled at us.” I giggled as I thought about that night. “It sounds silly, but it was the first time at school that I really felt a part of something. I swear they brainwashed you that night because you bled green from there on out.”

“I bet you looked cute,” he murmured, his attention still rapt on me.

“I didn’t look cute afterwards, when I got so drunk at one of the frats that I threw up all over myself.”

He snorted. “Hard to imagine Skyler Ames drinking herself silly.”

The grin on my lips fades. Because at one point, I thought we’d share all our memories from there on out. And yet, here we were, seven years later…practically strangers.

Except when we were having sex, a little voice nags.Because our bodies sure remember how to do that.

“Okay you said you had more,” he prods, his tone almost urgent, like he can sense the direction of my thoughts and is trying to distract me.

“What’s another memory…maybe initiation night at my sorority.”

“Ahh, yes. Who knew you’d be a sorority sister,” he teases.

“Were you keeping tabs on me, good sir?”

His eyes flash with something that looks an awful lot like…pain. “When I could bear it,” he finally admits on a whisper.

Now I’m the one hurrying on, not able to bear the ache in his voice.

“They woke us up in the middle of the night and shoved a blindfold over our eyes, and then they took us to do all these random things around campus, until we ended up in the house basement, Madonna’sLike A Prayerblaring as we had a massive dance party. A night you would never forget.”

My smile is fond as I go down memory lane. College was about breaking free from the box I’d put myself in while growing up, and all through high school. I was able to be anyone I wanted to be. Not Daisy’s sister. Not Noah…something. Not a bookworm. Not a wallflower.

Something new.

And I’d taken advantage of it. I’d gone to the parties, I’d been a part of the clubs, I’d done a foreign exchange semester in Barcelona…I’d even joined a secret society.

Leaving college, I’d actually been proud of who I was.

Not something I had experienced much growing up.

“I lied the other day,” he says, pulling me forward so that I was lying on his chest instead of looking at his face.

“Lied about what?” I ask warily.

“About how fucking proud I am of you. An Ivy League Graduate. Tons of successful books under your belt. Making your own money. Paving your own way.”

My cheeks grow warm at his compliment, because compliments from Noah…well, he doesn’t give them often. It feels more significant than compliments from other people because of how rarely he gives them.

“Thank you,” I whisper, nuzzling into his chest, wishing that it didn’t feel so right, so perfect, to be in his arms.

“You were right though,” I muse, copying him by tracing a pattern across his etched abs…abs I’d run my tongue over several times this week.

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