Page 48 of Rock Me

"I'm sorry, please don't be hurt."

I spin around and try not to shrug. "I'm... I'm not."

"Yes, you are, I can see it in your face."

Of course she can. Why would I doubt that?

"It's just, I’m kind of sick of people telling me things that I should remember. Do you have any idea how disconcerting that is? That people think they know you better than you know yourself? Well, I’m tired of it. What I feel now, in the present is valid, regardless of what I might’ve said or felt in the past. I hate that the people disregard what I’m saying now, just because the past me may have said or felt something different. Well, fuck her. She’s done. And I’m here.” She stops to take a deep breath. I’m thrilled that she’s talking. And it’s taking everything I have not to tell her, she hasn’t changed at all.

She continues, "So, if you tell me something that happened to me, to us that I don't remember, I don't know what I can trust about how I feel about you now. And right now. I just want to pretend we're meeting for the first time. And make my own judgment. Can we maybe do that just for now?" Her eyes round out, soft, almost trusting, almost begging.

I nod twice and walk over, standing by the couch in front of her. "Of course. We can do exactly that? Except..."

She looks up to me, her eyes narrowed, as if ready to be disappointed, "Except?"

"Well, if we've just met, you have an advantage."

"What is that?"

"You know my name, but I don't know yours."

The worried look in her eyes fades instantly and a smile spreads across her face like a Saharan sunset. Brilliant, burning, and pure.

"My name is Noémie. Noémie De Bruyn.”

"Hi, Noémie. I’m Jez. Jeremy. Jeremy Petrescu. It's very nice to meet you."

"You say that now, but we've only just met." she says and gives me a wink. And we’re back in that mens room, and I’m falling for her so fast, I’m shoving my hand down a urinal trough. I’m doomed. I’m so fucking doomed.

She’s looking at me, like she’s waiting for a response.

"You're right. So far, you seem alright. But I can't wait to find out what a giant sniveling cow you are," I say, my mouth shooting off without my brain.

I turn to her, and her jaw has fallen open. Shit, I can't believe I said that. It's just I feel so comfortable with her, like...like we've known each other for a hundred years.

And yet, I have to remember, she feels like she's only known me for 30 seconds.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I was just joking. I can’t always control my mouth."

"It's okay,” she waves her hand, dismissing my comment. “I barely heard it, I was just thinking how you probably have the nurses crush up your medication and put them in a Yoohoo because you’re too scared to swallow whole pills.”

She gives me a sweet smile, fluttering her eyelashes at me.

And it’s on.

"Well, I bet that you eat chocolate bars with a knife and fork."

"Fair. But not as bad as you probably wearing floral nighties to bed, complete with curlers in that over coiffed hair of yours.”

"Hey, that's going too far. Don’t be jealous of my sexy hair. But what did I expect from someone who probably has a boyfriend called Norman who’s only claim to coolness is being vice-captain of his school’s math team. And apologizes when he orgasms."

She gasps and I think I might’ve hit a nerve.

"At least he doesn't wear football cleats during sex for traction,” she almost yells.

"That... actually sounds like a great idea, thanks!"

She stares at me, her mouth agape, her eyes twinkling - like a Christmas at midnight. And the talk of sex has my mind flashing images it shouldn’t be at this time.