Chapter 4 [The night that changed everything]

Emily’s POV 

"Simple. For one night, we're nobody. I don't know your name. You don't know mine. And tomorrow, if we run into each other on the street, we don't know each other."

"You're crazy." I said.

"Maybe." He set his glass on the table. "But at least I'm an honest crazy person. Unlike the traitors who made you run away in the middle of a storm."

The word hurt. But I was already tired of hurting.

"Alright." My voice came out slurred. "Call me... Scarlett."

"Scarlett." He repeated. "I'm... Jason."

"Jason." I let the name roll off my tongue. "Jason, the stranger who found me in the mud."

"Scarlett, the girl who runs away from storms."

I laughed. I don't know at what.

"Another one?" He pointed at my glass.

"Another one." I pushed my glass forward. "And then another after that."

I don't remember everything.

I remember laughing. I remember his hand on my shoulder when I almost fell. I remember leaning against his chest and feeling his heartbeat.

I remember the scent. Something woody. Strong.

I remember looking at his hands. Big. Hairy. And thinking foolish things.

I remember him lifting me off the bench.

I remember leaving the bar.

I remember a room. White sheets. Rain on the window.

The room spun a little. Or maybe it was me.

I was there, in the middle of the carpet, the dress still wet and clinging to my skin. The cold. The dizziness. And him standing a step away, looking at me.

"Scarlett." His voice was deep. "You're drunk."

"I am."

"Do you know what you want?"

The question came straight. No beating around the bush.

I looked up at him. His face was somewhat blurry, but his eyes were there. Dark. Fixed on me.

"I want to forget." My voice came out rougher than I expected. "Make me forget."

He didn't move. He didn't smile. He just asked:

"Are you sure?"

I was tired of people asking if I was sure. Marcus never asked anything. He just did. And this man, a stranger, was standing there waiting.

"Jason." I said his fake name. "Make me forget I exist. Just for tonight."

His eyes gleamed. Or maybe it was the light. I don't know.

He took a step. Then another. His hands found my face before I realized it. Thick. Warm.

"Scarlett." He spoke close to my mouth. "You're not going to forget tonight."

And he kissed me.

I don't remember how I ended up in bed.

I remember the kiss. Slow at first, then deeper. I remember his hands on my body, discovering, squeezing. I remember the dress falling. I remember my own breathing becoming strange.

I remember him kneeling in front of me.

Not to apologize. To take off my shoes.

One hand on my ankle. Firm. Then the other. Careful. I almost fell, and he caught me.

I remember looking down, seeing his dark head down there, and thinking that no man had ever done that before.

He looked up at me. Still kneeling.

"Scarlett."

"Jason."

That was all we said.

He lifted me, placed me on the bed. The sheets were cold, but his body was warm. Very warm.

His hands traveled over my skin as if they had all the time in the world. His lips followed the same path. Slowly. So slowly I thought I would go crazy.

"Jason." I no longer knew if I was asking or begging.

He stopped. His eyes met mine.

"Are you sure?"

The same question. Again.

"Fuck me." I pulled him by the hair. "Stop asking."

He laughed. It was a low, rough sound that made my stomach clench.

"Scarlett." He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. "You're going to ask me to ask before dawn."

I don't remember everything.

I remember his weight. I remember our hands intertwined. I remember feeling my body open, yield, beg.

I remember moaning. Screaming. Losing track of where I ended and he began.

I remember hearing my own voice calling for him. Jason. Jason. Jason.

And him answering. Scarlett. Scarlett. Scarlett.

I remember, for the first time in three years, not thinking about Marcus.

Not once.

*****

The light came in like a knife.

My head throbbed. My mouth was dry. My body naked beneath the sheets.

I turned to the side.

The bed was empty.

On the nightstand, a small bouquet of blue flowers. And a white envelope.

With trembling hands, I opened it.

*** Scarlett,

You said tomorrow didn't matter. So I won't apologize for not being here.

It was the best night I've had in years.

I hope to see you again someday.

— Jason <3***

I read it twice. Three times.

Pieces of the night came back. The bar. The whiskey. Him kneeling to take off my shoes. His hands on my body. His voice in my ear.

"Holy shit." My voice came out broken. "What have I done?"

I got up. The room spun. The dress was hanging on the chair. Dry. Clean.

It didn't matter how.

What mattered was that I had spent the night with a stranger. A stranger who found me in the mud. Who took me to drink. Who knelt to take off my shoes.

Who asked if I was sure.

And who signed a letter with a heart.

I sat on the edge of the bed, the crumpled paper between my fingers.

Naked. My head pounding. The name of a man I didn't know in my hand. And the name of another, whose memory still made my heart ache because I remembered I still loved him, etched into my skin.

Nothing was going to be the same.

Nothing.