hospital it seemed strange as well as familiar to have him hold my hand in return. My heart raced at the contact, and I reminded myself that it was a platonic thing—John was a touchy-feely guy.
White lacey froth danced on the peaks of the waves breaking heavily onto shore, the water was muddy from rain and pollution. Despite the sea being brown and angry, there was still something alluring about it. I had to dip my toes in the water even if the water was freezing, because it felt wrong to deny the sea some small homage.
The coastline looked different with the recent weather changes; there was less sand on the beach, rocks jutted out of the water enjoying the sun after being buried under the sand for some time.
"So." I sighed, motioning to the rocky area I remembered dragging him past. "This is the spot."
John looked under-whelmed by the experience, as his eyes scanned the jagged rocks. "It's not helping. I still can't remember anything."
"That must be so disappointing," I empathized.
"In some ways." John shrugged philosophically. "In other ways I wonder if my brain isn't trying to protect me. Maybe I was out fishing with my family and I'm the only survivor. Or I'm an asylum seeker who swam in off a boat. I want to remember, but then I get scared and feel grateful that the first thing I remember is you."
"Ha, ha," I replied sarcastically, poking him in the ribs playfully.
"I'm not kidding," he said seriously. "You telling me to keep living is my first memory, and seeing you drooling all over me in my hospital bed is the first memory with picture I have."
I laughed. "Poor you!"
"It's not every day that I awaken, with a beautiful girl on top of me," he teased. "You must have been dreaming about ice cream with the amount of drool you got on me."
"You could have wrung your shirt out and filled an Olympic-sized pool with it," I added, laughing at myself.
"I'm just that appealing, huh?" he said, playfully.
"You have no idea," I replied, matching his playful tone.
"Lucky I'm sticking around then," he said with false bravado. "I'd hate to leave you destitute."
"You're too kind," I said, sarcastically.
"I do owe you," he reminded, in mock benevolence. "You did save my life. Don't I have to be your slave till I repay the favor?"
"I'm sure that was implied when I resuscitated you," I teased.
"You call it resuscitation," he shot back playfully. "I know you just couldn't keep your hands or lips off me."
"Whatever," I laughed, giving him a gentle shove.
John poked me in the ribs in response. "The least you could do is kiss me while I'm conscious."
His tone left me uncertain of whether he was joking or not. It was so easy for me to fall into flirty banter with John; I rarely knew when we were joking and when we were serious. The way he looked at me was unnerving, like he had x-ray vision and could see my nana knickers; the part I couldn’t admit was that I wanted him to want me.
John put his hands on my hips and turned me to face him. "What do you say?"
"I need to get home," I replied blushing, before turning away. John’s words left me confused and flustered, and my heart beating wildly in my chest. I barely knew John; a guy like him would have to have a girlfriend pining for him somewhere. I needed to heed the advice of those who loved me and not get too attached. John took my cue and we walked back to the car in silence. I wished that I could be more, but I knew that I’d never be good enough for him.
I slipped my shoes on in the car, happy for their warmth. I channel surfed radio stations as we drove home, seeing what music John liked. I made a game out of naming the type of people who listened to the music that appealed to John to categorize him.
"So you like Pink, Elvis, the Beatles..." I listed.
"Who doesn't like the Beatles?" John asked in exaggerated horror.
"That is a good point," I agreed.
"Robbie Williams, Katy Perry, Black Eyed Peas, George Michael, and Wham so far," I calculated. "That means
White lacey froth danced on the peaks of the waves breaking heavily onto shore, the water was muddy from rain and pollution. Despite the sea being brown and angry, there was still something alluring about it. I had to dip my toes in the water even if the water was freezing, because it felt wrong to deny the sea some small homage.
The coastline looked different with the recent weather changes; there was less sand on the beach, rocks jutted out of the water enjoying the sun after being buried under the sand for some time.
"So." I sighed, motioning to the rocky area I remembered dragging him past. "This is the spot."
John looked under-whelmed by the experience, as his eyes scanned the jagged rocks. "It's not helping. I still can't remember anything."
"That must be so disappointing," I empathized.
"In some ways." John shrugged philosophically. "In other ways I wonder if my brain isn't trying to protect me. Maybe I was out fishing with my family and I'm the only survivor. Or I'm an asylum seeker who swam in off a boat. I want to remember, but then I get scared and feel grateful that the first thing I remember is you."
"Ha, ha," I replied sarcastically, poking him in the ribs playfully.
"I'm not kidding," he said seriously. "You telling me to keep living is my first memory, and seeing you drooling all over me in my hospital bed is the first memory with picture I have."
I laughed. "Poor you!"
"It's not every day that I awaken, with a beautiful girl on top of me," he teased. "You must have been dreaming about ice cream with the amount of drool you got on me."
"You could have wrung your shirt out and filled an Olympic-sized pool with it," I added, laughing at myself.
"I'm just that appealing, huh?" he said, playfully.
"You have no idea," I replied, matching his playful tone.
"Lucky I'm sticking around then," he said with false bravado. "I'd hate to leave you destitute."
"You're too kind," I said, sarcastically.
"I do owe you," he reminded, in mock benevolence. "You did save my life. Don't I have to be your slave till I repay the favor?"
"I'm sure that was implied when I resuscitated you," I teased.
"You call it resuscitation," he shot back playfully. "I know you just couldn't keep your hands or lips off me."
"Whatever," I laughed, giving him a gentle shove.
John poked me in the ribs in response. "The least you could do is kiss me while I'm conscious."
His tone left me uncertain of whether he was joking or not. It was so easy for me to fall into flirty banter with John; I rarely knew when we were joking and when we were serious. The way he looked at me was unnerving, like he had x-ray vision and could see my nana knickers; the part I couldn’t admit was that I wanted him to want me.
John put his hands on my hips and turned me to face him. "What do you say?"
"I need to get home," I replied blushing, before turning away. John’s words left me confused and flustered, and my heart beating wildly in my chest. I barely knew John; a guy like him would have to have a girlfriend pining for him somewhere. I needed to heed the advice of those who loved me and not get too attached. John took my cue and we walked back to the car in silence. I wished that I could be more, but I knew that I’d never be good enough for him.
I slipped my shoes on in the car, happy for their warmth. I channel surfed radio stations as we drove home, seeing what music John liked. I made a game out of naming the type of people who listened to the music that appealed to John to categorize him.
"So you like Pink, Elvis, the Beatles..." I listed.
"Who doesn't like the Beatles?" John asked in exaggerated horror.
"That is a good point," I agreed.
"Robbie Williams, Katy Perry, Black Eyed Peas, George Michael, and Wham so far," I calculated. "That means
Similar Books
