Arousing Suspicions: An Amnesia Romance Read online

  Is he actually trying to flirt with me? I try not to let my mouth open from shock. It’s just disarming, after going through what I’ve been through. But I do have to admit, he isn’t ugly. At all… He’s actually very, very good looking. He has wide, high cheekbones, and eyes the color of pine needles and the shape of almonds. His skin is at the same time creamy and caramel-y as if he went to a candy store and picked the exact shade he wanted off his favorite chocolate bar. His lips are undeniably inviting, reminiscent of plums in both color and plumpness…

  Shit, he’s asked me a question. What was it? Right, why I decided to come to his gym in particular.

  “We talked about this at the beginning of class, didn’t we?” I ask.

  “Yeah, but I can’t remember your reason.”

  “I, uh, um, I decided…” I stumble, unable to find the words. “I… something happened to me,” I finish, stupidly. For some reason, it’s harder to talk about right to his face than in a big group.

  “Oh, god, I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it. That’s none of my business.” Another small blush is making it’s way up his neck. His very muscular neck. What’s wrong with me? How am I already noticing these things when not 5 days ago the worst thing that has ever happened to me occurred?

  Despite feeling uncomfortably aware of Kaleb’s beauty, I find the concentration to finally throw back some of what he’s thrown to me: “Ha, now it’s your turn to be embarrassed! Doesn’t feel so nice, does it?” I give him a small smile, to let him know I’m not serious. “Anyways, don’t sweat it. I actually… don’t remember much. Or anything. I really just know that I was attacked a few nights ago after going to a bar. Still, though, I didn’t want to do nothing, you know? I wanted to be proactive and be more in control of what happens to me. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

  “No, it totally does.” his eyes are kind, they tell me he understands. Maybe something similar has happened to him before.

  “How did you get into jiu-jitsu and martial arts?” I inquire, “If that’s not too personal, of course.”

  “No, not at all,” he answers, “I was a scrawny kid if you believe it. I used to get roughed up a lot. I wasn’t very socially adept, either. That’s why I started doing jiu-jitsu around the age of ten. It made me feel like I had some sort of power over my future. It gave me confidence and a certain skill-set; it’s something I felt was important to pass on to others. That’s why I started teaching.”

  “Oh, that’s awesome,” I answer, “it makes a lot of sense.”

  “Yeah, well, there’s also the fact that I have 4 younger siblings and my father passed away when I was 18. That made it hard to go to school because my mom couldn’t support all of us. So I decided to teach full time in order to help her out. I only just moved out a year and a half ago, now that only my youngest brother is still in high school.”

  I’m touched to hear this; that he was willing to sacrifice so much for his family. “That’s really admirable,” I tell him. I pause to think for a moment, wondering if it’s too soon to tell him about my dad. I decide I feel comfortable enough to do so. “I don’t know what it’s like to lose a parent, exactly, but my father left when I was a kid. I don’t even remember him. It’s made me close to my mom, and independent as fuck, but it still sucks. I still wonder what wasn’t good enough about us. I wonder if I had been a nicer toddler, or a less fussy baby, maybe he would have stayed. It’s a hole that’s never quite filled in for me.”

  We talk for a long time. We are different and similar in all of the right ways, it seems. It doesn’t get more cliché than puzzle pieces, but it really does feel like we fill in whatever the other has missing. It’s the opposite of how I felt earlier in the gym like I was outside of myself. Now I feel very, very here. It’s not that the rest of the world doesn’t exist in that moment, it’s like it never existed. There has always only been Kaleb and me and our cappuccinos. I tell him how I’m studying literature, how I want to be a teacher, and he shares how he regrets not going to school. We talk about our families; his 4 younger siblings, three little brothers, and a sister. I tell him about my only sister, how I love her, a lot, but we clash. We don’t even bother mentioning the connection that is so obvious, the fact that we are being so fully vulnerable to each other. I don’t even have to think about it, it’s so easy. Easy isn’t even the word… it’s natural, like a flower opening itself to the sun.

  “So, do you have a girlfriend?” I blurt out before I can think better of it.

  He raises his eyebrows at me, I guess surprised that I would be so bold. “No, actually. I was with someone for 2 years. I really loved her, I thought we had something great. But it turns out that she cheated on me. She told me, after I found out, that she had felt stuck for a while and like her whole future was planned out, but she didn’t know how to break the news to me, so she wanted me to end it.”

  “Wow,” I say, “that’s pretty fucked up.”

  “I mean, yeah, but it’s been about six months. I’m ready to move on and forgive her. It’s a little crazy, but I understand where she was coming from, in a way. Breaking up is really, really hard. What about you, are you single?”

  I think back over my dating history, and it’s pretty bleak. I’ve never had a boyfriend last more than a couple months. Some of them could have been more, but I always found a reason to leave them before they left me. “I am single,” I respond, keeping it single.

  “Come on, I told you my baggage, what’s yours?’

  I sigh, kind of exasperated, “It’s so fucking cliché… I have trust issues with men because of my dad. I never let anyone get too close, and if I feel that happening, I push them away. So I’ve had boyfriends, a few of them, but nothing serious.”

  He nods understandingly, “I get it. I hope that doesn’t happen to us.”

  We stare at each other, both realizing what he has just implied. Or really outright said. We glaze over it, choosing not to delve deeper.

  Throughout all of this, we never touch. Our hands stay gripping our mugs, knuckles white from the effort of not reaching out to close the gap between us.

  The lights in the café dim, the staff politely telling us that our welcome has been overstayed.

  “I’m not sure how to put this, Clara,” he says, staring into his long-empty coffee cup, “but would you like to come to my place? We… we don’t have to do anything, of course not. I just… I want to… I don’t want this to end right now.” He’s looking at me now, his eyes supplicating. If I wanted to say no I would have a hard time denying those eyes. But I don’t want to say no.

  Chapter 4

  I can’t believe I’m doing this… going home with an all-but stranger. Am I having some kind of mental breakdown? I can’t imagine past me doing this. I mean, maybe, for a connection like what I can already feel with Kaleb. We shared so much with one another. I shouldn’t be so trusting, though, my mind is screaming at me. Despite my protesting brain, my heart is fluttering, and my feet continue onward. It would take a freight train blasting between us for me to change my mind at this point. Every last part of me is vibrating with excitement, that is, every part except for my brain. My brain thinks this is a supremely stupid plan.

  We walk, silent, but side by side, matching one another’s stride. We don’t touch, but there’s something like electricity between our hands, which are mere inches apart. Despite the events of the last week, I’m dying to touch him. Or maybe because of them? Maybe I need to feel connected to someone like there’s a man out there that I can really and concretely trust. I’ve never had a good experience with a man, and last week cemented that, making me certain that there were only two categories: those who leave and those who hurt.

  We’ve stopped walking. I guess that means we’ve arrived. For once, I don’t have to be reminded to stop. My mind is very much here. He unlocks the door, calls the elevator. We stay silent as we mount the 5 stories.

  His apartment is nice. Kind of sparse, but not completely lacking in
decoration. He has a pretty view of the city from large bay windows, a bookshelf brimming with everything from Tolkien to Bronte. I notice some Murakami, too, one of my favorite authors and someone we discussed over coffee. There’s just one picture, a selfie of Kaleb grinning, his face squeezed against a pretty brunette who has the matching set to his eyes.

  He comes up behind me and casually puts his hand on my shoulder. I try to suppress a shiver at the sensation, I try to ignore the significance of the fact that this is the first time we have touched since he stopped me in front of the café. “My little sister,” he says, an echo of the smile from the photograph on his face, “she goes to school out of state, but we talk every day.” I reach up to where his hand is resting on my shoulder and squeeze his hand. It’s easy, in the end, to close that physical gap between us.

  “Would you like a drink?” He asks.

  “Sure, beer?” I follow him into the kitchen, where he opens two IPAs. We cheer, kind of ironically, and laugh at the awkwardness of it all. We’ve been so quiet since leaving the café, unable to enter back into the easy flow of conversation we had earlier.

  “You’re not going to believe this,” he says, not quite meeting my eyes, “But I really never do this. Not that we’re doing anything… but, you know, …” he fades off, not finishing his thought.

  I’m nervous, too, of course, but I try to reassure him, “Gosh, Kaleb, I didn’t take you for one to get so flustered by the presence of a lady,” I joke.

  He looks up at me, his eyes not at all mimicking the joke in my tone. I read longing there, and I can’t resist the pull. It is as if gravity has shifted, making him down. It’s impossible to not fall into the forest that is those eyes, as impossible as disobeying the call of gravity. I am pulled to him. I close the gap between us, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist. My brain has finally taken its cue to exit stage right, my body is now fully in control. We stare at each other for a moment, both clearly surprised and pleased at how quickly this is going. He leans in, completing the work I started and brings those plum-like lips to mine. Slowly at first, like each touch is a brick, and we are building something sturdy together. And the kisses do build up. Steadily, until our tongues are chasing each other back and forth in our mouths with urgency and heat. He cups my head in his hands, softly caressing my cheeks with his wide thumbs. “How can this feel so right?” he whispers into my ear. Instead of answering, I slide my hands underneath his t-shirt, exploring his creviced back with my fingers. It feels like there are endless valleys and hills to discover, a whole world of Kaleb. Waiting and willing for me to learn all that is there, all that is him. He does the same thing to me, reaching up under my shirt and deftly pulling it over my head in one movement. His hands travel from my face to my breasts, cupping each one in hand. He gazes up at me, “is this okay?” he whispers. I sigh a “yes” in response, melting into him and allowing his body to support my weight. He reaches behind my back, where he unclasps my bra. He lets my breasts fall, free of the restricting material, he pushes them together with both hands and kisses them each in turn. He lowers his mouth to my nipples, where he takes each one into his mouth, flicking them with his tongue and ever so slightly biting them. I exhale in pleasure, unable to remember the last time I felt so good.

  I pull him up to me, removing his shirt in the same motion, and hug him tight, enjoying the sensation of skin to skin contact. We simultaneously remove our own jeans, slipping out of them and discarding them on the floor.

  At this point, both of us wearing only our underwear, it dawns on us that we are still in his kitchen, our untouched beers on the counter. He takes my hand, leading me to his bedroom, to his bed.

  We lie there together for a while, both understanding that we have nothing but time. We kiss and talk a little bit, and I don’t know if an hour has gone by or ten minutes. I’m not thinking about the attack, or school, or the future. I’m just there, with this new and spectacular human that I didn’t know existed 24 hours ago.

  Kaleb slides his hands onto my bare butt, easing my underwear off of me. He slithers down the bed and separates my legs. He teases me for just a moment, caressing me everywhere except for where I want and need. I squirm with impatience. It’s only been a couple of minutes, but it feels like an eternity before he finally eases a finger inside of me, and then two. He moves them up and down, slowly but deftly. He then lowers his head, caressing me with his tongue. He moves it in slow and steady circles as if he’s creating a precious piece of art and one incorrect stroke would bring everything crashing down. I know that if he continues like that for very long, I won’t last. As tempting as it is to give myself up to him, I want to experience all aspects of Kaleb’s body before I let that happen.

  Tugging gently on his hair, I let him know that it’s time for the next step. He crawls up my body, his tensing shoulder muscles reminding me of a panther, stalking through the night. Taking my head in his hands, he leans in for a deep kiss. The entirety of our bodies are touching; I can feel his hardness on my thigh. I bite down on his lip and squeeze his ass, digging in with my fingernails. He reaches into his bedside table, deftly sliding a condom onto his throbbing cock. Finally, blissfully, at last, he lifts his hips, guiding his cock inside of me. I sigh and arch my back, pushing myself into him, giving myself to him as he gives himself to me. We move rhythmically together, holding onto one another for dear life. If we stop, the world will fall to pieces.

  He pulls back for just an instant, enough that he is no longer inside of me. Inadvertently, I whine in complaint. He takes me by the hips, flipping me onto my stomach. He is quickly inside of me again, rocking back and forth as I push myself back into him. He collapses on top of me, one hand wrapped around my shoulders and tenderly cupping a breast. He inches his other hand down my side, venturing inward until he finds what he is looking for. He rubs my clit, at the same time gentle and insistent. The combination of him deep within in and his hand rubbing in slow circles makes me feel as if I am going to split in two. I bite down on his arm, unable to stop myself. I feel the waves of pleasure mount higher and higher until the crash is no longer something I can resist. “I’m going to cum,” I whisper in a rush, not wanting my shaking body to shock him. “Me too,”he whispers in answer, and together we do.

  We fall asleep entangled in each other and whispering each other’s names back and forth as if trying to remind ourselves that we are both real and present.

  Chapter 5

  I don’t sleep very well that night, despite Kaleb’s welcoming, soft king bed. I didn’t have the time to process the memories that came back to me yesterday (was it just yesterday?), and my brain must have had some objection to that because I go from one scary dream to the next. I hear the footsteps behind me like I did in the memory, and when I turn around, I’m greeted with a monster twice my size. He growls, pounces, and devours me in one fell swoop. The next dream is a tight circle of men around me, all of them with my father’s face. I try to break through their line, and finally, I am successful. I have my hands on my knees, panting, but when I look up, I’m in the same circle, men with my father’s faces pointing and jeering at me. The third and last dream I remember is that I’m at Ana’s funeral. I look into her casket, but she isn’t there. Instead, she’s lying on the floor, bloody but breathing, “help me” she gasps, looking me straight in the eyes. “I can’t,” I answer, you didn’t answer my calls or messages.

  At some point in the night, between nightmares, Kaleb stirs with me and wraps his arms around me, “shhhh,” he says, still mostly asleep, and reaches for my hand. I relax into him, but the dreams don’t stop.

  Dreams notwithstanding, I wake up to a feeling of bliss. For a moment, the night’s activities are a blur, and I just feel a happy warmth. The dreams haven’t quite come surfaced to my awake self, and I snuggle closely into Kaleb’s side. All of a sudden, last night’s realness comes back to me. The café until they closed, agreeing to come back here, the feeling of Kaleb touching me. The feeling of Kaleb ins
ide of me. The fact that our climaxes were a symphony, our pleasure a crescendo of perfection. My feeling of bliss quickly fades. I feel a cold sweat break out on my naked back, under my arms, prickling uncomfortably against Kaleb’s sheets. I think I might be sick. The dreams start to come back too, and I feel the need to leave strengthen.

  Oh god, what did I do? I am in no place to be trusting new people, let alone be entering into a new relationship. I remember what I told him about pushing people away when they start to get close, and maybe that’s what I’m doing now. I quickly push this thought aside. Now is just not the time to be questioning my instincts. It’s more than an instinct right now, it is an immediate need. By this point in my thought process, Kaleb has sleepily encircled me in his arms. I’m stuck. My heart starts pounding, and I feel beads of sweat spring from my forehead. I thrash around, trying to free myself, at this point fully panicking. Kaleb blearily opens his eyes.

  “Clara? What’s going on? Are you ok?”

  “I - I’m sorry,” I stutter, “I have to go.” He releases me, tracking my movements with half-closed eyes. I slip out of bed and look around frantically for my clothes. They’re nowhere to be seen.