“You smell. Let me go!”
“Nah,” he says, rubbing his underarm near my face.
“Rainer, I’ll break your dick off. Let me go!”
He lets me go with a chuckle and yawns, leaning back into my pillows.
“Your bed is better than mine,” he murmurs.
“You’re not sleeping here again. You snore.”
“Can’t make me leave,” he says, wiggling down into the sheets.
“I can, and I will. I’ll use force, and scissors.”
He raises a brow. “I don’t even want to know.”
“No, you don’t. Go home and torture someone else.”
“You love it when I’m here, Emy. Admit it.”
I grunt.
We fall silent and both of us focus on the TV. I glance over at him about ten minutes into our silence and decide to ask him a question, knowing he’ll give it to me straight. There’s not a lot I don’t tell Rainer.
“Hey, Rai?”
He looks over to me. “Yeah?”
“Do you think I’m pretty?”
He blinks at me. “Say what?”
Dammit, I didn’t say that right.
“I mean . . . do you think I’m pretty enough to ever get a date?”
He studies my face, and when he realizes I’m serious, he answers. “I don’t really see you like that, kid, but yeah, if I’m to answer honestly then yeah, you’re pretty.”
“Pretty enough to get a date . . .”
“Yeah, for sure. Why?”
I look away and shrug. “No reason.”
“Oh come on, you gotta tell me now. Are you crushing on someone?”
I laugh. “No one says that anymore, dude.”
“Spill, Emalie.”
“Ohhh, using my full name. Shit just got real.”
He reaches over and puts his arm around my neck again. “I’ll use force.”
“All right, yeesh. I . . . I might want to ask Jack on a date.”
He’s silent, for way too long.
“Did you hear me?”
“Jack the Sack?”
I burst out laughing. “Oh my God, that’s so mean.”
“Hey, you call Missy Spastic Plastic.”
“You’re right.” I giggle. “But Jack isn’t a sack.”
“He’s a fucking dick.”
“So are you, and I like you.”
He flexes his arm around my neck gently. “I’m a good dick. He’s the bad kind.”
“How so?”
“He’s a user.”
“Meaning?” I prompt.
“He just likes to charm and fuck.”
“And that’s bad because . . .?”
He lets me go and stares at me, horrified. “Because you don’t fuck, Emy.”
“Why not?” I snap, crossing my arms. “I’m a girl, I’m seventeen—I should be able to fuck if I want.”
His eyes widen. “No. Just no.”
That kind of hurts, and my back instantly goes up.
“What, because I’m not fake and plastic like Missy, means I can’t be interested in popping my damned cherry?”
“Yeah, fuckin’ exactly,” he snaps. “Because you’re not fake, you deserve better than men like Jack.”
“Oh, you mean like a nerd, who probably refers to his dick as penis, who says things like ‘I’m going to penetrate you now’?”
His lip twitches. “No, but . . .”
“Agh!” I cry, climbing out of the bed. “You’re pissing me off, Rainer. Can you go?”
“No,” he says, getting out of the bed too. “I’m not leaving because you’re having a hissy. I’m just telling the truth. Men like Jack don’t go with girls like you.”
“Then who does go with a girl like me?”
He shrugs. “I dunno . . . Kenny?”
“Are you fucking serious?” I screech. “So in other words, you don’t really think I’m pretty. You’re just trying to make me feel good.”
“He’s a good guy.”
“He stutters when he talks, if he’s nervous. He has oily hair. What the hell, Rainer?”
“Okay, maybe not Kenny, but . . .”
“Just stop,” I cry, throwing up my hands. “You’re digging a big fucking hole for yourself.”
He blinks at me. “Did you just swear at me?”
“Yes, yes I did.”
“Ouch, kid.”
“Look,” I say, turning and catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, “I’m tired. Can you go?”
Rainer walks up behind me, and in the mirror I can see what it is he sees. Alone, I might be pretty, but with someone as striking as Rainer behind me, I’m simply average.
That hurts.
More than I could have ever imagined.
CHAPTER THREE
NOW – MALI
Hurt constricts my chest as I sit on my bed, staring at the wall. I don’t even know if Mimi is okay—I just ran out of the bar like a scolded puppy. I can’t believe Rainer didn’t remember me. How could he look at my face and not see the girl I was? We were best friends; we spent all our time together. God, we’ve been through so much. I’d never forget his face in a million years.
“Mali?”
The sound of Mimi’s voice travels through the house, and I pull my knees closer to my chest. I don’t know how to explain what went down tonight, or tell her why I left her alone. I don’t even know if I can form the words. My best friend growing up just looked straight through me.
“Hey.”
I look up and see her standing at the door, eyes narrowed.
“Ah, hey.”
“You left; I was worried. Are you okay?”
She rushes over and sits on the side of my bed, studying my face.
“Not really,” I whisper, looking at my hands.
“Did everything go badly with Rainer?”
“It didn’t even have that chance,” I murmur. “He didn’t recognize me.”
She’s silent for a moment. “Oh, Mali . . .”
“He just looked straight through me, as if he’d never seen me before.”
She wraps an arm around my shoulder, and shifts in beside me. “Maybe he was busy and barely took you in.”
“He looked right into my face, and studied me.”
“Maybe you’ve changed a lot.”
“I would never forget his face, Mimi. Never. How could he forget mine?”
She squeezes me closer. “You said there’s been a big change in you. Maybe you really are so different he didn’t recognize you.”
“Maybe,” I mutter.
“Show me a picture of you when you knew him, and we’ll decide. I’ll be able to tell you if it’s a massive difference, and then we can figure out where to go from here.”
“Okay.” I sigh, climbing out of the bed and jerking open a desk drawer. I ruffle through it until I find an old picture of Rainer and I.
I take it over and hand it to her. She snatches it from my hand and studies it, her eyes going wide. “That’s you?” she squeaks.
“Yes.”
“Holy shit, are you serious?”
“What?” I say, climbing back into the bed and looking at the picture.
Rainer looks so much younger in it, more than I realized until I saw him tonight. He’s a man now—he still has a boyish-look in this picture. He’s grinning, his arm slung around my shoulders. I’m wearing my usual jeans, baggy top and chucks, and my blond hair is in a pixie cut. I’m also wearing glasses.
“No, seriously . . .”
“What, Mimi?”
She turns to me. “Honey, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that girl looks nothing like you.”
“It does so!” I protest.
“Ah, no, no it doesn’t.”
“Yes. Look at my eyes.”
“It’s hard to see your eyes; they’re covered by massive glasses. What were you thinking? Those things are awful.”
“They were stylish.”
“Maybe for a gorilla.”
&n
bsp; I snort. “But still, look at my face. It’s me.”
“No, you’re chubbier there.”
“I was not chubby!”
She laughs. “Not massively so, but you’re really slender now. There you have more booty and curves.”
“Okay, but still.”
“Your hair is blond.”
“Yes, and . . .”
“It’s short and blond. It’s now long, brown and completely different.”
“I know,” I protest. “But Rainer could be wearing an orange wig and glasses and I’d still recognize him.”
“Truly, would you?” she says with raised brows.
“Yes, I would. I’d know those eyes anywhere.”
She reaches over, taking my hand. “I hate to say this, I really do, but do you think maybe you paid more attention to those things because you loved him?”
Her words hit me like a slap to the face. “You mean because he didn’t love me, that he didn’t pay that much attention?”
She smiles sadly.
She has a point.
“He still stared at me. Hell, he fucked me, for God’s sake.”
“Yes, and I get that, but take it from me, you look one hundred percent different now. I wouldn’t recognize you if the old you walked in.”
“Okay, but—”
“Look, you don’t know what’s happened in his life in the last ten or more years. Anything could have gone down, and for all you know he had amnesia and doesn’t remember anything.”
I raise my brows. “Seriously?”
She shrugs. “You never know.”
“So what do you think I should do?”
“Maybe go back . . . try again. Talk to him. Tell him who you are.”
“I don’t . . . I just don’t know that I can take it if he doesn’t remember . . .”
She purses her lips. “Then just go and hang out at the bar one night, talk to him, see how you feel after it. Make the choice if you want to tell him after you speak with him . . .”
“So I just pretend he’s a stranger?”
She shrugs. “It can’t hurt; just see how it feels, see how he is with you. There’s no rule that says you need to jump in and bring up the past. You’ve gone ten years without him, honey,” she says, standing and patting my shoulder. “What’s another few days?”
She’s right.
Maybe slowly is the best way to go about it.
~*~*~*~
There’s a solid chance I’m going to vomit.
I’m at the bar again, it’s a Saturday night, and for the last week I’ve thought about nothing but Rainer and how I’m going to play this out. I decided I’d go in alone, and see if I could make conversation with him. Maybe he’ll give me some indication that he remembers—hell, maybe I can ask him about his past and he’ll mention my name . . .
Anything to let me know he wants to remember Emalie.
Tonight I just put on a basic dress. It’s pretty, but not sexy. I’m so full of nerves that getting ready was a mad rush. I left my hair down from work at the coffee shop this morning, and just ran a brush through it. I left my makeup as it was.
My stomach twists as I scan the bar, wondering if I’ve made the wrong choice. God, what if he’s not even here?
“Can I get you a drink?”
I look over to the beautiful blonde standing at the bar, watching me with raised brows. It’s not crazy in here tonight, like it was the other night, which mightn’t be a great thing. The mass of people could have been a great distraction. Instead, I find myself nervously biting my nails and wondering when Rainer is going to walk in.
“Sure,” I answer the girl tapping her fingers impatiently at me. “Tequila, straight.”
She raises her brows, but gets me the shot. I take it, hissing as the liquid burns my throat. It has to ease my nerves. The flood of warmth that washes through my body does calm it down a little, but not nearly enough.
“Another,” I say, when she goes past.
She doesn’t protest, and slides another shot to me. I swallow it down painfully and then pull out my phone. It’s been vibrating in my pocket for the last half an hour. It’s probably Mimi. I read her messages, loving how the warmth is starting to travel through my veins.
M – Is he there?
M – Where r u?
M – Are you screwing him?
I roll my eyes and, a little tipsy, I respond.
E – Not here yet. Drinking.
“You need another drink there, darlin’?”
The smooth, husky, sexy voice makes my entire body freeze. Holy shit. It’s him. It’s him, and he’s talking to me.
I can’t seem to make my head lift. It’s as if not looking at him will be easier.
“Hey?”
I clench my eyes and then take a deep breath, lifting my head. I meet the most gorgeous black eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re not really brown anymore; it’s almost as if they’ve darkened over the years to represent how his life has gone. I study those eyes, waiting, willing him to remember. He has to see me in here . . . right?
“You want another drink?” he asks, studying my face.
No recognition.
None at all.
I guess my eyes are more green than blue now . . . God, who am I kidding? He doesn’t remember me. No pathetic excuse in the world will change that.
“Sure,” I manage in a tight voice.
He keeps staring at me. Right. He wants to know what I’m drinking.
“Tequila.”
His brows go up. God, his face, it’s so much more beautiful than I ever remembered. Gone is the cheekiness he used to carry around. Now he’s broodier, more rugged, and definitely more deadly.
“What’s a little girl like you, doin’ drinkin’ tequila?”
I snort. “Little?”
His eyes drag down my body. “There ain’t much of you, sweetheart.”
I hate that word. If he’d said it in a meaningful way, I might like it. But he didn’t.
“Doesn’t mean I can’t handle a drink,” I mutter at my hands.
“You alone?”
“No. I have Bill and John beside me.”
I glance at him, and he’s smirking. “I like a girl with sass.”
I know.
“Are you going to pour me that tequila, handsome, or do I need to find someone else to serve me?”
He arches a brow. “A lot of spunk for someone so small.”
“There we go with the small again.”
I’m deflated, my voice is bitter, and I don’t care. He’s having a conversation with me, talking to me as if I’m any old person, and he literally has no idea who I am. I didn’t think it would hurt so damned much, but it does. I need to numb the pain. Quickly.
He doesn’t argue further and gets me a tequila shot. I take it and then slide the glass back at him, nodding again.
“Have you got anyone to take you home?” he asks, pouring another one.
“Does it really matter to you?”
He frowns. “I don’t like girls in my bar putting themselves in danger.”
“I’m fine,” I assure him, tossing the shot back.
My head is spinning nicely now, thank God. It feels so much less painful like this.
“You got a man?”
I stare at him. “A man?”
He grins, and I forgot how beautiful those dimples were. “You know? Someone you’re fuckin’?”
I huff. “No. I wish.”
“So you’re here nursing a broken heart then?”
I cross my arms. “Nope.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I had this friend when I was younger, and I came into town to see him, and he can’t even fucking remember me.”
“What a cunt.”
I blink at him.
“Yeah,” I manage. “That.”
“He’d be a fool to forget a face like yours.”
I want to reach over and beat him. Hard. Fast. Right to the core.
“Yeah, well . . .”
“I gotta keep serving. Stay where I can see you, yeah?”
Seriously? He’s concerned for me? I don’t think so.
“No thanks.”
I get off the stool and wobble, but make my way onto the dance floor. I find a patch and start swaying about, wiggling my body around and dancing my little heart out. A few men stop, putting their hands on me, and I let them, moving until the alcohol is flowing through my body. I’m drunk, far beyond drunk. I don’t care. Screw Rainer. Screw him.
“Hey there sweetheart,” a man slurs, grabbing my hips. “You’re beautiful.”
Oh bull-fucking-shit.
I turn and see a good-looking man holding my hips. “That’s a lie, dickwad,” I mutter. “Just say what you really want.”
He stares at me, with wide eyes. “I mean it.”
“You don’t mean it! They never mean it.”
He raises his brows now. “Fine, then I want to fuck you.”
There we go.
“Not interested, thanks.”
“Then why are you here wiggling your ass against my crotch?”
“I was not wiggling my ass against your crotch.”
He grabs his dick. “I didn’t get this for no reason.”
Ugh. Pig.
“Let me go.”
“No. Girls like you make me mad. You rub yourselves against us and then cry when we take what we deserve.”
Oh my God. Jerk.
“Let me go!” I snap, shoving his chest.
“Not going to happen, little one.”
I go to shove him again, but suddenly he’s being ripped off me and tossed to the side. Rainer is standing over him, his big body wound right up. “Get the fuck out of my bar. No one puts their hands on a girl if she doesn’t want it.”
I’m not watching this. I turn and rush from the bar. I can’t handle this right now. Watching Rainer defend me . . . no. Just no. I find a back door after shoving through the crowd and open it, stepping into the fresh night air. My head is spinning, not terribly, but enough that I know I’ll find it hard to make my way home. I stumble a few times, trying to figure out where the road is.
“Whoa there. You need to slow down.”
A big hand curls around my upper arm and I flinch, turning to see Rainer standing near me. He followed me. Why? Why would he do that?
“I’m fine,” I snap, trying to shove his hand off my arm.
“No, you’re not. You will get raped or worse trying to get home on your own.”
“I’ll call a cab or something,” I mutter.