She walked toward the kitchen and even in the dark I could make out how pink her ears were. It was as if her body was radiating steam and good God was she steaming hot. My eyes traveled down the length of her petite body, admiring the way the waistband of my large pants sat at the top of her hips, folded up two or three times in order for them to stay in place. When we were younger she’d often complain about her boyish shape, but there was no denying the curves she sported now.

“You know my clothes look better on you than they do on me. Maybe I should let you keep it,” I commented.

“Nah, who’d want these old things?” she replied with a smile in her voice, taking a seat beside me.

I couldn’t help myself and burst into laughter. A distant memory surfaced and I could have sworn we’d said the exact same words to each other once before.

Another lifetime ago.

Just like that my good mood faltered. It was a lifetime ago, but did that matter? The past could stay in the past as long as we made sure it did. Eyes darkening, I resigned to stay in the present, and though I knew I was skating on thin ice, my hormones led me to ask, “Did you have a bad dream?”

“What?” Her voice was barely a squeak.

I pressed on. “I heard you in there. You were breathing hard and moaned a bit.”

“I did not moan!” Her cheeks reddened considerably. I caught myself wondering whether or not she felt as warm as she looked. What I wouldn’t give to drag my finger across her cheeks and feel for myself.

I struggled to swallow. “Actually, you did. I heard you.”

To my surprise she nonchalantly changed the subject. “You’re quite the night owl. Have you been up this whole time?”

“Yes, I heard everything,” I interjected, desperate to steer the conversation back to where I wanted it to go.

“Like what?” Her voice wavered. Although I felt a bit bad to tease her like this, I couldn’t stop myself. Years and years of stopping myself had finally caught up with me. My brakes were finally broken. “What did you hear?” she insisted.

The thing with the past is that even though you insist on leaving it behind, it still manages to rear up at the ugliest moments. When that time comes you have no choice but to take a few steps back and face it head on. In my case, I needed to open up about what I saw at her house the other night. It’d be the only way I could move forward.

I looked up cautiously, taking in the way her lips parted almost suggestively, but I knew she was just anxious. “Did you know I stopped by your house two nights ago?”

“Wait, what?” Her eyes darkened, an unmistakable mask of guilt.

I sighed and trembled slightly. “I felt bad about what went down at the store. I knew it was a dick move and I should have apologized, but again I hated how much I felt like the old Jesse, you know?”

When did you come over?” she demanded.

“When do you think? I rolled up to your house and saw a strange car in your driveway. I knew you parents were gone and it couldn’t have been Emily’s. It didn’t take me long to figure out it was Ethan’s prissy ride.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at how much of a creeper I sounded like. Guess the kids from Bethel Falls High School did have something right about me. I was definitely a class five weirdo.

Rocky looked as if she were caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. Her eyebrows were pushed together and her nose was scrunched up in regret. “Uh, yeah he wanted to cook for me.”

“Cook for you, huh?” Yeah, right.

She nodded but didn’t say a word.

I could have rolled my eyes, but I didn’t. As a twenty-three-year-old male, I’ve ridden my share of rodeos before, and I knew perfectly well there was no cooking usually involved.

“You know what ‘cooking for you’ is code for, right?” I took a few breaths to calm myself, worried that my jealousy would be overtly obvious. My jaw tightened and my teeth clenched, picturing that douche getting grabby with Rocky. I shook my head, waiting for her to respond, and when she didn’t, I pressed on. “I stayed in my car, wondering if I should go in and bother you. Hell, I sure wanted to.”

“Why?”

“You know why,” I muttered. She should know why, but that didn’t mean she did. At least I wanted her to know why.

“Do I?”

She really wanted to play this game, didn’t she? Fine. I’ll bite.

“I saw Ethan walk out with extremely, extremely messy hair. His little poof was no longer a poof.” Though my brain was telling me—screaming—for me to stop, it was as if my hand had a mind of its own. Desperate to feel Rocky’s warmth once and for all, I reached out and did just as I imagined, dragging a finger against her olive-toned cheek.

Her mouth opened and closed as if she had something to say, but no words came out. Her lips remained parted, breathing in loudly. I silently prayed to hear her moan again.

I wonder if Ethan heard her moan.

My mouth hardened as I imagined the prick walking out of her house, eyeing me with that self-righteous look on his face. I smacked my tongue in disgust. “I was angry, but why? I had no right to be angry. We weren’t even good friends anymore.”

Like a bad train wreck I couldn’t stop myself from imagining the prick caressing Rocky’s body. I felt my insides turn in anger, my blood boiling dangerously. Though I may not have deserved the princess sitting in front of me, I knew Ethan didn’t either.

What the hell was I doing? How was this helping me? I needed to erase the visual from my mind. I also needed to erase the memory from hers.

Propelled by lust and love, I banished every second thought I had and let my carnal instincts take over. Bringing my face dangerously close to hers, I continued to touch her cheeks, moving my fingers down to the dip of her collarbones. I was desperate to replace Ethan in every single fantasy—that meant replacing him in her memories. “Did he touch you like this? Did he lean into you like this?” I invaded her personal space, finally inhaling her sweet scent. “And whisper sweet nothings in your ear?”

I continued my trek of her body, going unbearably slow though all I wanted to do was grab her by the hips and her throw her down onto my bed. I wanted to take her hard and fast, but I knew she didn’t deserve that. She deserved my undivided attention. I needed to make love to her and not fuck her brains out…though I admit my dick grew harder at the thought of the latter.

“Did he touch you like this? Gentle, the way you deserve to be treated?” My fingertips tingled in anticipation, feeling an electric pulse travel from her skin to mine.

“I’m not glass.”

No, she was far from fragile, but she did deserve care. Ah, sweet, naïve Rocky. Couldn’t she see how much she was worth?

When somebody hurts you, you tend to forget.

I felt myself wilt for a moment and thought better of it.

I’ll make it up to her.

“No,” I whispered. “Just someone special.”

Rocky pulled her arm back from my grasp. With fiery eyes she gazed at me and shook her head profusely. “Why are you doing this? Why are you asking these questions? This isn’t right.”

“What do you mean?” I practically whined.

“I can’t keep up with your moods, Jesse. First you’re cold, then you’re aloof, and now you’re—”

“Hot?” I teased.

“Please make up your mind about me,” she said point blank.

I gazed at her with an incredulous expression on my face. How could she not know that I loved her? I practically just laid everything out on the table for her. Fuck, I was in the middle of foreplay!

“I already told you how I felt,” I replied, flabbergasted.

“When?”

“At my restaurant? The photo?” I replied, trying to keep my voice from betraying my shock.

“That didn’t mean anything to me.”

Ouch. That was a stab in the heart. Good thing I’d always known how to tell when Rocky was lying. I bit back a smirk as I watched her fingers drum anxiously against the couch.