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Archer: It was our safe word.
Me: Why did we have a safe word?
Archer: We liked to play.
Me: Play?
Archer: I thought you didn’t want me to fill you in on things you couldn’t remember.
Me: That was a stupid idea. Tell me everything.
Archer: Nope.
Me: So how will I ever learn what I liked?
Archer: You experiment. Just like you got me to do.
Me: Ok
Archer: Ok?
I paused, thinking about what those messages really meant. I’d told Archer I wanted time and space to work out how I felt about him. We’d been on the road for three hours and I was already wanting more.
Lea and I had talked about everything, catching up like the old friends I could see we were. She had told me about Archer; how we spent months exploring his kinks and that I’d done a whole art show of him tied up. Now it was all I could think about. It didn’t feel like me… the idea of being so confident in my sexuality and my body that I could offer toplaywith him. That I could help him explore what he enjoyed and that part of that would be to bind him. But then I thought about the things I’d painted since my surgery and the idea of him on his knees made my skin clammy and my panties damp.
Making my way through the bus to my room at the back, I climbed into bed, closing the door as I did. It wasn’t big, but the double bed was comfortable. There was an ensuite with a shower and room to unpack my things, but all I cared about right now was there was a private space to speak to Archer.
I rang his number, and he answered on the first ring. “Nee?”
“Hey.”
“Are you okay? Did you remember to take your medication?”
“Don’t do that,” I snapped. “I managed for months on my own. I don’t need you to be my nurse or my carer, Arch. That’s not why I called.”
He sucked in a deep breath. “That’s… I’m not… shit, I am, aren’t I? I’m so scared of saying or doing something to make you feel worse or send you running. I just want to protect you. To keep you from having to go through any more shit, Nee. That’s all it is.”
My anger dissipated, my voice softening. “I get it. I do. But I don’t want this from you. I don’t need you taking care of me.”
“Sorry. I’ll try, but you have to understand. You went missing for months and then I found out you had a tumor removed that you kept from me and made you lose your memory. You ran to protect me because you loved me. Now you don’t remember loving me, so how do I know what you’ll do next?”
“Well, when you put it like that.”
My phone beeped telling me that Archer wanted to video chat. I couldn’t help but smile when his dark features and giant smile filled my screen.
“How’s the rock star bus?” I asked.
“Boring. We’re not very rock and roll these days. It grew old fast.”
My head suddenly throbbed, and I tried not to wince in front of Archer, not wanting any more coddling, but he knew something was wrong.
“Does it hurt? Your scar?”
I ran my fingers over the raised C shape that stretched across the side of my head. “Sometimes. They told me I might have side effects for a year, but most of them would clear up within six months.”
“And your memory?”
“Would return within days if it ever would, but they didn’t hold out much hope.”
