Page 25 of Help Me Remember
I looked up. “I didn’t…live around here?”
He shook his head, smiling gently. “I went to Rutherford High with you. It’s a private school in Port Dale. I got in with a scholarship, had the whole thing paid for me. Your parents could afford it, though.”
“I-I was a rich kid?” I asked in bewilderment, looking down at my body in further confusion. “I really don’t feel like one.”
Eric laughed. “Thinking about those scars you have? Yeah, a lot of those are new, but you weren’t exactly a rich kid. Just a step under one. Didn’t hurt that you were an only child, so your parents had a lot of disposable income.”
“Oh,” I said, then looked up. “The scars I have, they’re new to you?”
“Hmm,” Eric grunted thoughtfully, standing up and flipping on the light. “Take ’em off.”
I blinked at him. “Excuse me?”
He rolled his eyes. “Just your shirt. I don’t need to inspect your junk…wait, is your junk scarred?”
It was my turn to roll my eyes. “No, you just…that was so sudden.”
His smile was soft and tinged with something I couldn’t quite understand. “I’m not here to ogle the straight man staying in my bedroom. Especially one who can’t figure out who the hell he is, that seems…unfair.”
If it hadn’t been for the second reason, I might have pointed out that I didn’t think I was all that straight. “I notice that you not being attracted to me wasn’t on that list of reasons.”
Eric shot me an unimpressed look, but I could see a flush of color blossom on his cheeks as he motioned in annoyance. “Up and off. Plus, I haven’t been able to check any of your wounds since I got you here. This is a perfect opportunity.”
“Yeah, sure,” I said, finally standing up and pulling my shirt off. I was momentarily surprised when I had to fight to work one of my arms through the sleeves, finding the muscles stiff and painful. “Ugh…”
Eric sighed. “Here, let me help. I guess you overdid it in the alley and needed the adrenaline not to notice.”
“Thanks,” I said softly as I felt him gently grab my arm and pull the fabric away.
“There we are,” he said, hesitating a moment before stepping back to look me over.
There was nothing heated or salacious in his gaze, and in fact, he had the same expression on his face that the doctor at the clinic had worn when she’d looked me over while I’d sat there in my underwear. Yet this moment was several times more awkward and intimate as he looked, making a motion with his fingers for me to turn my back to him.
“Your chest is looking better,” he said, and I tensed when I felt his fingers on my shoulder. “Careful, I’m just checking for any swelling.”
“You just surprised me,” I told him, realizing I had been so caught up in my own thoughts I hadn’t felt him move closer. “I’m not worried you’re…up to something.”
“More and more pieces,” he said softly, then tapped my back in a few places. “These are new, and I bet I recognize them too.”
“How do you recognize them if they’re new?”
“Because I know what a bullet hole looks like, and this long one looks like a burn…and another looks like you took a knife at some point.”
“Really?”
“There are other little things I don’t remember ever seeing.”
“Did you see me shirtless often enough to remember something like that?”
“No, but I’d remember.”
There was something strange in his voice, and I looked over my shoulder. His eyes were still locked on my back until he realized I was looking at him. The analytical expression on his face stuttered and shifted until I saw something fearful flash in his blue eyes.
“Eric?” I asked softly.
“Y-yeah?”
“Did you…did you have a crush on me when we were younger?”