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If he told her that to be with him, she had to become his personal servant, she would do it. She would do anything he asked of her. And if he got out of that bed and walked away from her, she would die. So she held completely still, willing time to stop for them. But eventually, the chilly March air invaded the room and Paige began to shiver. Parker laughed and got up, pulling her off the bed and dragging her into a hot shower.
He made fun of her tiny shower stall and she squirted body wash in his eye. Her fear of it all being a delusion was quickly put to rest. Her assault on his eye turned into a five minute sponge fight which devolved into soapy bodies and kissing and touching. With a groan, Paige pulled herself away from him and got out. She wrapped a huge towel around herself and climbed back into bed, huddling under the covers. A couple minutes later, Parker joined her.
"Are you still wearing your towel?" he laughed, his hand running over the terry cloth covering her stomach.
"I was cold, I just jumped under the covers," she explained. He rolled his eyes and tugged at the towel.
"You're ridiculous, how did you survive the winter here?" he asked, struggling to pull the towel out from under her butt.
"A lot of layers," was her response.
"It's damp, we're in bed," he complained.
"Hey buddy, it's my bed," she pointed out as he finally managed to get the towel free. He chucked it across the room.
"Your bed? I think I just proved whose bed this really is," he informed her, propping himself up on his elbow. She burst out laughing.
"All that Bahamian sunshine must have fried your brain. You think you're some kind of sex god now?" she laughed.
"Hey, it's okay that you're a little rusty. Eight months was a long time. I'll do my best to get you up to speed," he offered.
She biffed him with a pillow.
*
"IS THIS US!?" PARKERexclaimed, leaning across her lap and plucking a framed picture off her nightstand. She was sitting cross legged, wearing the pink hoodie and nibbling on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
"Yup," she replied as he rolled onto his back and held the picture up.
"My god, I had forgotten this," he mumbled.
It was a picture of the two of them. Paige had held the camera out and faced it at them. The desert was behind them. She was wearing sunglasses and laughing, facing the camera. Parker had turned at the last second so he was facing her, sneering his lips and licking her cheek – a last minute move before she hit the shutter. He laughed at the photo.
"You almost never made a straight face for a picture," she told him, finishing off her sandwich. He lifted his head.
"Is that why there's no photos of me on that board out there?" he asked.
"No, I just keep them in here," she replied, pointing to the dresser across from them. Parker turned to look.
There were lots of framed pictures up there, including several of Paige and her mother and sister. Most were of them, though. One of her, him, and Joey in Las Vegas all dressed up. Another of them holding onto each other in his uncle's pool. A close up of them with the Gateway Arch in the background. One where he couldn't tell when it had been taken because it was of him sleeping at night. The one next to it was another one of just him, a close up of his face. He was wearing his baseball hat, grinning broadly at the camera.
"Why don't you put any of those out with the others?" he asked and she shrugged.
"I like keeping them in here. You were my memory, I wanted to keep you close to me. I wasn't ready to share you with other people."
*
"ICAN'T BELIEVE I LETthis happen. I can't believe he did this to you."
Parker ran his finger over a small crescent shaped scar that was above her right eyebrow, just on the outside of her eye. Paige was laying down, stretched out on the bed with him leaning over her. Her eyes crossed trying to look at where he was pointing.
"You didn't have anything to do with it, that was all him. I don't really think about it anymore. The car accident scared me more."
"I thought you couldn't really remember it."
"That's the scary part."
Parker frowned, still brushing his thumb over the scar.
