“Or, I’ll just make new favorites. Starting with you.” This should make me excited, but it just reminds me of the ticking time bomb our relationship resembles.

“Can I be your favorite girl?”

“You already are, Duchess.”

My vision blurs and my heart does a little skip. Did I just imagine that?

“What did you just call me?”

Caleb looks embarrassed.

“Duchess, but don’t ask me why, it just popped into my head. Sorry.”

I stare straight ahead and hope he doesn’t notice the horror on my face.

“No, no it’s fine,” I say softly. But it isn’t. Duchess was his nickname for me in college.

“I better get going,” he says, standing up quickly.

I want to ask him if he’s remembered something but I’m too scared.

I walk him to the door and he leans down to peck my cheek.

“Bye,” I say.

“Bye.” And then he walks into the stagnant night air, leaving me alone.

He is going to remember and soon! I have to think of a way to buy myself some more time.

Duchess thinks about getting drunk, but calls Cammie instead.

“Well it’s about time!” her voice sounds far away.

“Sorry, Cam, I’ve been busy.”

“Busy with what? And I thought you gave up eating chips.”

My crunching stops. I hold my half eaten Dorito in my cheek and say nothing.

“You’re up to something,” Cammie says after a minute. “Tell me what it is…”

“Hmmm…uhhh…” I mumble. I can hide nothing from this girl. She has gossip radar.

“I saw Caleb, Cammie,” I blurt out, biting my nail, nervously.

There is silence on the other end of the line. She knows I wouldn’t joke about something like that.

“He has amnesia and doesn’t know who I am.”

I hear her sigh.

“Olivia…..tell me you didn’t.”

“I did.”

“ARE YOU INSANE?” I hold the phone away from my ear.

“Cammie, when I saw him, I felt things just as strongly as I did when we were together. It’s like everything is still the same and the past three years didn’t happen.”

“You have a right to love him, that’s not something you can control. What you do not have the right to do is take advantage of him…. AGAIN!” Where has this mature little monster come from?

“I liked you better as a freshman.”

“Yeah, well, some of us grow up, Olivia, and some of us play the same tired games forever. Have you ever thought that maybe you are not together because you aren’t supposed to be? Let go!”

“I can’t,” I say softly. Cammie’s voice is gentler this time.

“Olivia, you can have any man you want. Why him? Why is it always about Caleb?”

“Because….because I didn’t need anyone until I met him.”

“You know he’s going to find out.”

“I have to go,” I say. I don’t want to think about that. Tears start oozing from my eyes.

“I love you Olivia, be careful.” I hang up feeling like my stomach is full of rocks. He forgot me. I can make him remember not what I did to him, but what he felt for me.

I wander to my closet, reach up to the top shelf and pull down a dusty box. Laying it on the carpet, I gently remove the lid and stare at its contents. There are a couple of envelopes stuffed with letters, some pictures, and a small wooden box with a flower painted on its lid. I reach for the box and open it. My hand sifts through the jumble of memories, a keychain, a CD, and a frayed book of matches. My hand stills when it brushes against the most important keepsake. I jiggle the box until everything moves aside and I can see the shiny oval penny.

“You,” I say accusingly, picking it up and rolling it between my fingers. "This is all your fault."

Chapter Six

The Past

“I’m not getting in the pool! It is freezing!”

“It’s November in Florida, Olivia. It’s seventy degrees out. Besides, it’s a heated pool. Man up.” Caleb was wading around in his boxers in the turquoise water of the campus swimming pool. I was trying to avoid looking at his muscles.

“You can’t manipulate me into the pool by making a sexist comment,” I said, leaning down to splash him in the face. He grabbed my wrist before I had time to withdraw.

Our eyes locked.

“Don’t,” I warned. For second I didn’t think he’d have the guts. Next thing I know I was tumbling headfirst into the freezing water.

I came up gasping for air, my hair wrapped unbecomingly around my face. Caleb peeled it away laughing.

“I can’t believe you did that!” I gasped, shoving him on the chest. It felt like I was pushing on hot rocks.

“You look good wet,” he said. “It would probably be easier to swim if you took off some of your clothes.”

Shooting him a searing look, I started a breaststroke toward the side of the pool.

“Ahh, not one for fun I see.” His voice was light when he said it but there was a definite challenge in his tone.

“Screw it,” I mumbled, stopping a foot away from the ladder. I was the type of girl that would ‘jump off of a bridge’ to spite my friends.

I was wearing my good underwear anyway. I ducked under the water and shed my polyester skin like a snake. I resurfaced seconds later with just my skivvies on.

Caleb unconsciously mouthed “wow.”

“To your fun,” I toasted him with my sopping wet clothes and then threw them at his head. He dodged and circled around to where I was treading water.

“Nice lace,” he smirked, eyeing me without shame.

“Can you not make it so obvious that you’re looking?” I felt violated. I submerged myself under the water until only my head was visible.

“I thought our relationship was about honesty,” he smiled.

“Pffffff. Our ‘relationship’,” I snickered, “is based on dares and blackmail.”

His eyes were twinkling. He had such expressive eyes. I wanted to crush that twinkle and kick him where it hurt.

“Blackmail is such a harsh word,” he said, swimming closer.

“You threatened to tell the school newspaper that I was the reason you missed the shot, Drake.” He was way too close for comfort now. I began peddling backwards. There was a scar at the corner of his right eye that I had never noticed before. It was just a faint crescent moon, but somehow it made him look dangerous—in a sexy way. I shook my head. These thoughts were not mine….they were Cammie’s—damn her.

“How did you get that scar?” I asked. I was shuffling along the bottom of the pool on my tiptoes to get away from him. He absently reached a finger out to touch it.

“I stole a pound note from my grandfather’s wallet and when he caught me, he decided to punish me with his walking stick.”

I felt one of those, ‘this is why he’s messed up,’ moments coming on and I prepared myself to understand him.

“Really?”

“No.”

I felt myself color red. I punched him on the arm as hard as I could.

“I fell off my bike when I was twelve,” he laughed, rubbing the spot where I hit him. “A very boring story.”