Page 84 of Kiss Me Like I Didn't Kill You

Light filters through the curtains, slipping across the sheets and my face. For a moment, I don’t move. I’m warm, too warm, and when I shift slightly, I realise why.

Arlo’s arm is around me. His body is curved along my back, steady, and protective. His breathing is slow and even, he’s asleep.

For a long while I lie there, staring through the narrow slit in the curtains at the slow fall of snow. Gradually, the fragments of last night click back into place.

The bar, those boys who wouldn’t leave our table, the way we only wanted a girls’ night out and they simply wouldn’t take the hint. I was quietly glad when our men arrived and made them vanish.

Our men.

Hell no.

Arlo hauled the boy who’d been trying to get my attention out by the collar. When he returned, the look in his eyes, hungry, cold and utterly uncompromising, sends a shiver through me even now.

Everything after that blurred together, the way, once again, we couldn’t seem to stay away from each other.

The pull between us was too strong, and this time, I didn’t even try to resist it. It was reckless, consuming, the kind of need that drowned out reason entirely.

We were so caught up in it that protection never even crossed our minds.

Afterwards, I mentioned it, and he told me not to worry, that he’d been tested, that he was clean, that there hadn’t been anyone else since.

He said I was clean too, which I suppose is true, though I’ve no way of knowing for certain. In my memory, I was still a virgin.

Clearly, that’s no longer the case.

My period’s due soon, so the chance of getting pregnant should be low, but still, this isn’t something we should be careless about.

I’m not ready for a child, and Arlo and I are complicated enough as it is.

Maybe I was already on some kind of contraception before I lost my memory, it would make sense if I’d been sexually active. But I know I’m not on the pill, and I haven’t confirmed anything else, no injection, no implant, so until I do, we’ll have to be far more cautious.

There shouldn’t even be a next time.

And yet, after the bar, when we came back… there was. Three more times, in fact, before we finally collapsed sometime around four.

I draw a slow breath and slide from his arms, easing out of his hold. He doesn’t stir.

I sit up, push the hair from my face, and let my feet find the cool floor before making my way to the bathroom.

The mirror is unforgiving in the morning light, my cheeks flushed, hair sticking out in every direction.

I splash cold water on my face, brush my teeth, and pull my hair into a loose ponytail. When I step back into the room, Arlo’s still asleep, one arm hanging off the side of the bed, the other tucked beneath the pillow.

I linger for a moment, then pull on a soft jumper and a pair of lounge trousers from the wardrobe. Slipping my feet into my slippers, I ease the door shut behind me as quietly as I can.

The stairs creak softly under my feet as I head down to the kitchen. The whole chalet feels asleep.

There’s no one in sight.

I open the fridge, take out what I need, and start making pancakes with coconut milk and oat flour. I slice some fruit and arrange it neatly on a plate.

None of the girls can cook, Octavia and Adelaide are the worst, though my sister would never admit it.

Piper could survive on coffee and croissants alone, though to be fair, she’s not bad when she actually bothers. Cooking just isn’t something she enjoys. So, it usually falls to me.

I pour the batter onto the hot pan, listening to the soft hiss as it spreads. The smell of vanilla and coconut fills the room.

Soon, the house begins to stir, the thud of doors closing, the murmur of voices down the corridor, the faint creak of floorboards overhead.