It's a Date (Again)

“It’s the best,” I say to Maya. “I couldn’t imagine falling asleep without him next to me.”

“Being in love has made you corny.” She chuckles.

“It really has.”

Robbie follows my gaze and smiles. “You’re bad.”

“Only because you’re so good.”

e kitchen, to be exact.

Finally, his lips meet mine. It’s where they should have been all along. His kiss is warm and passionate and explosive, like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. It makes the world around us fade away, the big bang of our lifetime.

It’s electric.

No, it’s better than that.

It’s magic.

ughter and tears.

“Well, it’s not a magic penny.” He laughs.

I stare into his blue eyes, never wanting to look away. His gaze intensifies, and his face turns serious. This time we don’t let anything stand in our way. He closes the distance, unzipping my jacket and pushing it off my shoulders. It slides down my arms and falls to the floor. My hands run over his chest and shoulders, wanting to touch every part of him, making up for all the time I could have spent loving him. His
arms wrap around me, pulling me into him. My charm bracelet jingles as I slide my hands around the back of his neck. We stumble and giggle, shuffling a couple of steps into his apartment—the kitchen, to be exact.

be his.

“I love you, Robbie. I’ve loved you since the night we made that pact back in college, and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to realize it.” My bottom lip trembles, and tears spill out. He doesn’t say anything.
He just stares. I’m not even sure he’s hearing what I’m saying, or if he even cares to hear it. I think I might be too late. How could I have not known? These past two weeks, I’ve felt such a closeness to Robbie, an undeniable connection. Waking up next to him was like watching the sunrise, and falling asleep beside him was like falling into a dream. I never needed my memories to love him—I only needed them to remember I did

, fast and furious. Maybe he’s not home. But I don’t care, I keep knocking anyway.

Finally, the door swings open, and there he is standing before me with a look of bewilderment. He’s crystal clear and completely in focus. But all around him is a blur, like Monet himself painted his world. I’ve stared into those blue eyes a million times, and somehow, I didn’t see what was right in front of me. The love of my life, and the reason all the other ones didn’t work out. It’s because they weren’t him. They weren’t Robbie.

“Peyton,” he says. His face is full of concern, and I realize I probably look like a madwoman. I ran nearly a mile to get here, crying and laughing the whole way.

“I remember,” I say.

“You remember what?”

“You. You told me you loved me. I remember.”

His cheeks flush, and he lowers h

“You all right?” he asks.

The dizziness passes quickly, and my mind becomes so sound and strong that I’m almost confident I could fly if I really wanted to. Goose bumps cover my skin, and it’s not because I’m cold—it’s because I’m alive. I can finally see it . . . the night of the accident. The memory that was stolen, the one I’ve been chasing this whole time, plays out right in front of me, like a private viewing. I don’t know how I ever forgot it. I blink several times, staring back at Hank and those kind eyes of his.

“Yeah.”

“You sure?” he asks.

“I remember,” I say. “I remember who I love.”

I nod several times, grinning like the Cheshire cat, but instead of falling down the rabbit hole, I’m finally climbing out of it. I can’t believe how long it took me to see what was right in front of me. Tears burst from my eyes all at once, as though my heart is pumping them right out of my body. They stream down my face, but I don’t wipe them away.

“Then what are you waiting for? Go. Go tell him.”

“Okay, okay. I’m going to tell him. Thank you, Hank.” I wrap my arms around him.

Hank hugs me back. “Thank you, Peyton.”

I feel my heart race like it grew feet and started running, pounding against my rib cage. My stomach flips, and I blink back tears. I should have never said what I said to him. I didn’t mean any of it. I was just feeling emotional and disoriented. And now I feel so awful and sad. I miss Robbie, and I’m mad at myself for how I spoke to him.

Maya leans forward in her chair. “Are you going to open it?”

“No, I’m going to wait until my birthday.”

She groans and waves her hand at me. “You’re no fun. I wanted to see what it is.”

“Knowing Robbie, whatever it is, it’ll be very thoughtful,” Debbie says.

I hold the present a little tighter. It’s so neatly wrapped, like he took his time with it, making sure it was perfect. A frown settles on my face. As much as I want to rip it open, I don’t feel like I even deserve whatever’s inside of it . . . even if it’s a piece of trash.

“My best friend was hit by a car last week, but miraculously she’s here tonight.” The crowd claps. “Which part are you all clapping for?” Maya regards the audience with suspicion. The clapping is replaced with laughter. “Don’t worry, the car’s fine.”

I knew she was planning a set about me and my situation, and I’ve been dying to hear the jokes she came up with. It’ll be a nice reprieve laughing about it rather than living it—like a little comedic vacation from my life.

o Maya’s comedy show?”

“I’d love to,” I say. All of a sudden, I’m not disappointed anymore.

A smile spreads across his face. “Perfect. It’s a date.” He scratches the back of his neck and stammers. “I mean . . .”

“I know what you mean.” I smile back