“Anything else wrong with you? Like, can you count and shit?” He crosses his arms and inspects me with narrowed eyes.

I prefer when he’s staring at the floor. “Yes, I can count and talk and everything else. I just can’t remember some things.” Like that you and I hooked up and went out. Did we kiss? Did he see me naked? That’s a disturbing thought. I pull my thin hospital blanket up higher.

Kyle not only notices, but also reads my thoughts as if they were flashing on a sign above my head. “Yeah, we fucked, if that’s what you were wondering. You like giving head and are always on my jock. I can’t take you out in public because you’re too handsy. It’s embarrassing. I had to tell you to back off more than once.”

I feel my face turn beet-red. I didn’t realize how humiliating not having a memory would be. “Ah, I’m sorry.”

Kyle’s not paying me attention. He’s on a roll now. “You got mad at me once and tried to hook up with Easton Royal to get back at me, but I forgive you for that.”

I got mad. Hooked up with Easton. Kyle forgives me. I try to process all of these but it’s hard. “Did we fight?”

“Nah, you’re just a slut. You’ve probably whored yourself around to more Astor guys but Easton’s the only one Felicity told me about—I mean, that I know about.”

Half of me is consumed by embarrassment at the idea that I whored myself around and the other half is angry at my own boyfriend slut-shaming me. I’m also real disappointed in myself for having shit taste in men. And did he say that his sole evidence is that Felicity told him I cheated on him?

“How do you know that Felicity isn’t telling you the truth?” I challenge. Truth is a variable concept, right? And so Felicity’s truth could be very different than what really happened. Maybe she saw someone else with Easton…although, that picture was definitely me.

“Why would she lie?”

There’s something odd about how he says it, but I don’t have an answer for why Felicity would even know of my existence, let alone want to make up malicious rumors about me.

“I don’t know. Tell me what happened, then,” I press. If I truly am not going to remember these things like Dr. Joshi suggested and I’m not going into a sensory deprivation tank until all my memories come back, then the only recourse I have is to collect as much information as possible.

Kyle’s smirk turns to a sneer. “You want details? It’s not like you did him in front of me. He got jealous because I slept with his ex once, so to get back at me, he took you to the pier and got pictures of the two of you making out. I don’t know if you two screwed. You probably did because you’re kind of a whore and that guy’s seen more pussy than a gyno. He breathes in your direction and you girls fight to drop your shorts. You should be happy because I forgave you. You begged me nice and pretty.” He points to the floor with three fingers, clearly implying that I gave him not one apology blowjob, but three.

Gross.

“Why’d you take me back?” If I were in his position, I wouldn’t have wanted such an awful girlfriend. My blowjobs can’t be that good.

“Because I’m a good guy and good guys don’t dump broken pieces like you.” He gestures toward the bed. “You can pay me back when you’re better.” The leer he sends my way tells me exactly how he’s going to extract payment.

I see myself being sick for a very long time.

“So Hart-lay, when are you getting out of here?” He mispronounces my name and I can’t tell if it’s intentional or, God forbid, his pet name for me. I cringe inside.

“No clue.”

“Great.” He doesn’t know what I said nor does he care. “Call me when you get out. We’ll hook up again.”

That will be a hard no from me, but I figure I don’t need to tell Kyle that. He’ll get the message soon enough when I’m back at school and not calling him. I’d rather be a nun than get on my knees in front of this jerk. He doesn’t require a response. Already, he’s threading his way past the sitting room and slipping out the door.

Man, pre-memory loss Hartley had some shitty taste—in girlfriends and boyfriends.

Chapter 6

Easton

After an hour of cooling my heels near the nurse’s station, I finally spot my prey approaching. I shove my hands into my pockets and saunter casually up to the counter, trying not to look as desperate as I feel.

“Doc Joshi, do you have a minute?”

He breezes straight past me, the white coat flapping against his blue scrubs. “Watch room two-oh-five’s liquid intake and report any signs of stomach pain or increased fever.” He hands a chart over. “When does Doctor Coventry arrive?”

“In an hour, sir.” The round-cheeked nurse makes a note.

The doctor frowns. “That late? I need to eat now.”

“I can grab you a burger,” I offer in a bid to grab his attention. It works, because he turns to me.

“Who are you?”

I open my mouth to answer, but the nurse pipes up before I can get anything out. “It’s Easton Royal, sir. Of the Maria Royal Royals,” she adds.

Thank you, pretty nurse. I’m buying you flowers later.