Page 27 of Rock Me

CHAPTER SEVEN

Noémie

"I'm sorry, I don't know you," I say again, to this strange man in my room.

This man who’s sucking all the air out of the room. Who he is?

I don’t know him. I know I don’t. But he won't believe me.

I want to tell him, though, I want to tell him, if we had met in the past, there's no way I would have forgotten him. He's the most strikingly handsome man I've ever seen in my life. I’m having trouble not staring at him.

"You must! How can you not?! It's me!" He practically runs across the room, leaning in close. Leaning in so close I can smell the gel in his hair, the spice of his aftershave. It's intoxicating. I want to close my eyes and take a deep breath.

But I don't know him.

"My name is Jez,” he says again. “But... you don't know that."

That doesn’t make sense. "I don't know your name, but I know you?"

"From that night... that night in the alley. Remember?"

He staring into my eyes, and I’m finding it hard to tear my own away. He’s making me wish I knew him. But, no. I don’t. I’m sorry, handsome stranger. I don’t remember.

"No. I don’t.” Good. Be firm,Noémie.

"You knighted me. Sir Elbow Jerk? Remember the urinal?"

Oh. Okay. He's crazy. This guy is out of his mind, off his nutter, completely lost every single one of his marbles crazy.

Fucking sexy as hell. But insane.

"I... think you might have me mistaken for someone else,” I say, ignoring the impulse to say that she’s a lucky woman.

"No!" he yells, and his voice is deep and startles me with its force. He moves closer me, intimidating.

And now I'm scared. I flick my eyes over to Toni and she steps forward.

"Mr. Petrescu, let's go, let's go back to your room and let Noémie rest."

"No." He doesn’t move and just stands there, staring at me. Like he’s trying to will me to remember something that he thinks we’ve shared with the power of his mind. If anything would work, I think that would be it. It’s almost impossible to ignore his presence.

"Jez," she says, pulling gently on his shoulder. He doesn’t give her any ground.

"She knows me. She does. How can she not remember?" His voice is raspy, thick with emotion. The look of hurt across his face pierces my heart like an iron poker. I feel for him. I hope he finds the woman he's looking for, that she’s not just a figment of his imagination. She would be a very lucky woman, indeed.

His forehead bunches up and he spins around, like he’s about to storm out of the room. I can’t explain why I half want him to go, and yet, half of me wants him to stay.

Just as he reaches the door he turns back, and almost runs to me.

"You hate lentils! You never want to eat another falafel for the rest of your life!” He almost yells. And I’d have covered my ears, if I wasn’t so surprised. How can he know that? He’s right. So, how does he know? How could he possibly?

"H-How do you know that?"

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes. Hope. “Because you told me. You told me." He says, pointing at us each in turn.

No. I can't have forgotten him, forgotten having told him that. I hate these reminders of my accident, that there are parts of my own life that I don’t know. The helplessness comes crashing down around me, and I reach forward and push him away.

"Please… please go," I beg him.