I smiled at him and his shoulders seemed to relax a little. He took his smart watch and strapped it around my wrist. He pressed the screen and looked down at the heart graphic as a number popped up next to it.
“Ninety bpm. A bit high. But fine. Do you feel any numbn—”
“Shhh,” I put my finger over his lips. “Shhh. I’m fine—well, physically. There was . . . I had . . . I can’t explain it. It was like a memory. Well, not a memory, but this overwhelming feeling of a memory. Or a feeling from a memory. Two feelings, and they kind of just—I don’t know how to explain it—overwhelmed me.”
Even though he’d stopped talking, I hadn’t moved my finger from his lips. It had not been my intention to keep it there for so long, and I stared down at it. His lips were lovely. He had a little mole next to them, like a Cindy Crawford mole, but so,sooomuch more masculine. There was a bit of stubble surrounding his lips, as if he’d missed a day of shaving. They looked smooth, and pink, and so kissable, kind of like how Amanda Stone’s had looked to the sheik in chapter five where he was tempted to just lean in and kiss her, right there and then . . .
But I would never just kiss a guy, would I?
Well, Zenobia wouldn’t. She hadn’t kissed a guy in years. Zenobia hadn’t been on a date in years.
But Zoe . . .she was different.She was the kind of girl who would just kiss a guy because she felt like it. She was brave. She had balls. She threw caution to the wind and she . . .
I moved my finger off his lips, and he seemed to part them slightly, as if inviting me to kiss them. And so, I leaned in and softly, slowly, planted the smallest of kisses on his lips. But I didn’t pull away entirely afterwards. I stayed there, only an inch away from his lips, to let him know that I was going to kiss him again, or let him know that it was alright if he wanted to kiss me. But he didn’t. Instead, he took a step back.
“Zoe, uh . . . I . . . we can’t.” He reached up and ran his hand through his hair.
“Oh.” I said, feeling utterly shocked. “Oh, uh . . . okay.” I took a step back too. Mortification and embarrassment gripped me, and I felt so, so stupid. Damn, why had I listened to Zoe?
“It’s not ethical. I’m the paramedic who saved you, and you don’t have all your memories back, so I feel that it would be inappropriate and, uh . . .” He took another step back.
“Oh. I see.” I also took a step backwards. We were two magnets repelling each other, not pulling together.
Push or pull?
“I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression and—”
“No! No!” I cut him off. “You didn’t, I was just . . .” I felt like I wanted to cry. This was the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to me. And I was the girl who’d had a meltdown in front of one hundred people at work and gotten stuck in a piece of gym equipment. So, I should be able to take humiliation. But this was,wow.There were no words for this, as I watched Noah back away from me.
“I understand,” I said quickly. “I just got, I was . . . overwhelmed. There was so much, in my head, so many strange emotions, and it was all just confusing and, and . . .”
“I understand.” Noah sounded sympathetic, which made me feel even worse. And even though he said he understood, I knew he didn’t. And I also knew that Zoe was clearly very bad when it came to reading signals. What did I expect? She had almost zero experience in it. I wasn’t listening to her again, certainly not when it came to men.
“We should get back on the road.” Noah looked back at the car. “Unless you want to stay here a little more?”
“No.” I shook my head then looked back at the field. “I don’t want to stay here anymore.” In fact, I wanted to be as far away from this field as possible, not to mention as far away from this moment as possible too.
CHAPTER 48
We pulled up to my parents’ house about two awkward hours later. The drive, after the field, had been a silent one, for the most part. Other than the forced small talk that we’d made to try and fill the endless silences. There were the terribly uncomfortable glances too, the restless finger tapping on the steering wheel—by Noah—and on the dashboard, by me. All in all, I’d felt like I’d wanted to crawl out of my skin and slither out through the vents in the air-conditioning system to escape the confines of the car. And every now and then, when Noah thought I was looking out of the window, I could see him staring at me in the reflection in the glass. He had this look like he was about to open his mouth and say something, but he never did.
“We’re here,” he said, when we pulled up to the house. It was evening, and the sun was setting. I looked up at the small house set back in the tropical garden of palm trees and overgrown shrubs.
“Do you recognize it?” he asked.
“I do.” I climbed out of the car and walked up to the front door. I remembered so much about this house now. I’d lived here and studied for a few years, but I couldn’t really tell you much about this part of the world. Driving here, things had seemed vaguely familiar, but not so much that I could stick a concrete memory to anything. It was as if I’d lived here, but only stayed inside this house and never ventured out. I knocked on the door. I wasn’t sure what to expect from my parents. I knew that we weren’t that close, and I had a feeling that we’d had a big fight once, but I had no idea what it was about.
My parents came to the door, and their faces were almost exactly how I’d pictured them in my head. Only a little older, which made me think I hadn’t seen them in a while. And the hug that they both gave me seemed to imply that too. They drew me into their arms and hugged me so hard and long that I wasn’t sure if I was able to breathe. And when my mother started crying against my shoulder, I started crying too, even though I wasn’t really sure why.
They led us into the small sitting room at the front of the house, and when we were all seated, introductions had been made and we had looked at each other self-consciously for a while, my father spoke.
“You say you don’t remember anything about your childhood?”
“No. I don’t.” When I’d phoned them earlier, I’d explained everything. My parents shared a sideways glance now. They both looked concerned.
“What?” I sat up straighter in my chair.
“You don’t rememberanythingfrom your childhood?” my mom asked now, even though my father had just covered that. “Nothing?”
