30. DÉJÀ VU
DéJà VU
I’m sitting on the sectional couch in Kenny’s living room, waiting for him to come sit with me.
He’s talking on the phone by the floor-to-ceiling windows a few feet away, and I tear my eyes away to browse for one of the movies he loves.
Something I shouldn’t know about him, but do.
Maybe it’s cheating to pick something I already know he enjoys for the sake of impressing him, but I don’t care.
I need to use all the tools in my arsenal if I want him to choose me again.
So I pick the movie and pause it, then set the remote down on the couch right next to my thigh.
He’s speaking in a hushed voice, as if it’s something he doesn’t want me to hear.
Sometimes he used to speak like this when his mother called and he wanted privacy, so I pretend to scroll social media for a few minutes.
When the conversation doesn’t die down, I begin to wonder what’s wrong.
I’m frowning when I look at him, and he turns around and startles when he realizes my gaze is locked right on him.
His brows raise, but he mouths almost done.
I nod and look away, choosing to focus on looking around the apartment, trying to spot any differences. I don’t. I can’t.
It’s eerie how everything is exactly the same.
The walls are the exact same color, sectional couch positioned in the same spot, and the coffeemaker in its rightful place next to the stove.
I already know his room looks exactly the same from breaking in a few weeks ago—down to the damn sheets.
Is there anything different about him? Sometimes it feels like I’m going crazy.
Like I’m living in some alternate reality where everything is the same yet completely different.
We didn’t meet by chance this time around.
No, I looked for him. Asking him out was premeditated as well, not a spur-of-the-moment decision.
Taking him to do something he loved only happened because I already knew what he loved, and asking him to show me around a place he loved, too, was purely a selfish decision.
I knew there were plenty of things we hadn’t done together yet in our past lives, so I wanted another glimpse into his soul.
I guess it worked in my favor, and it makes me feel like I’m cheating fate. Like I’m rewriting everything.
Do the stars align for us this time around?
Or will I be stuck in a loop, losing him the same way over and over again?
Or what if I lose him in a different way every single time?
What if we’re only destined for heartbreak?
I don’t think I could take that. I know I won’t accept it.
I’ll keep coming back over and over again until we get it right.
No matter how many tries it takes. As long as I’m by his side, I could do anything.
Be anyone. As long as I’m his. Because if there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that we belong together.
When he told me about dreaming of a man in an alternate life who loved him, I knew it was me.
Is he having the same kind of dreams I was?
Does he recognize it’s me? Is there anything telling him that this feels right between us?
It makes me wonder how all of this works—will he ever remember anything?
Or are we destined to relive this over and over, never remembering each other when the clock restarts?
I hate that I know him, really know him, and he has no idea who I am.
It also reminds me of the last time we were together, when I dreamed of him constantly—down to the tattoo between his thumb and forefinger.
I thought I was crazy when I realized the dreams were about him.
But what if this has all happened before?
If I lived that entire reality already, and my soul was just seeking his?
What if I subconsciously remembered him from before?
This is an absolute mindfuck, and quite honestly, I don’t know how to act half the time we’re together, trying so hard to keep this secret.
I’m afraid that if I told him, especially this early on, he’d think I’m insane.
Hell, even I know I sound crazy. But it makes me wonder if I could ever tell him in the future.
If we stay together. If I can make him fall in love with me again.
Maybe six months is all we’ll ever have—over and over again—and I need to focus on making them the best six months of our lives.
But it also makes me want to spill it all, tell him that we only have this time, and open his eyes to our reality.
And that surely we’ll find our way back to each other in the future.
Over and over again, we’ll come back to each other to fall in love again.
Like the waves come back to the shore. Inevitable.
Star-crossed lovers at its worst. But nothing could keep me away from him, not even to save myself the heartbreak.
“Sorry,” Kenneth murmurs, coming to sit next to me. Instead of taking the other end of the couch, he gets as close as possible, then drapes his legs right over my lap and rests his cheek on the cushion to look at me. “That was my mom.”
“It’s okay.” I smile, relieved that I still know him. That I knew all along that it was her he was talking to. “How is she doing?”
He frowns. “She’s not doing great, but she’s hanging in there. I’ll be visiting her tomorrow.”
“Tell her I said hello,” I say softly, then groan. Fuck. She probably doesn’t even know I exist. “I’m sorry, that was presumptuous of me.”
This time, he smiles gently. A small ripple across his perfect features. Lips barely twitching. “I told her about you.”
“Oh?” I suck in a sharp breath. “What did you say?”
“That I met this really persistent guy, and he makes me feel like a princess.”
A startled laugh bursts right from my chest. “Is that so? A princess?”
“Yeah.” Kenneth grins. “A real-life fairy tale.”
I can feel my eyes going soft, and Kenneth’s smile wobbles slightly. “I only hope I can give that to you, my Prince Charming.”
“You’re really intense. You know that?” he whispers. “It scares me.”
A frown takes over my face, and he digs his thumb between my eyebrows and smooths out the vertical line I know is there. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to scare you. I’ll ease up on the intensity—”
“Did I ask you to do that?”
“No, but—”
“You don’t scare me, only the way you make me feel.”
“How do I make you feel?” I ask, though I’m afraid of the answer. I hold my breath, waiting for his response, and my lungs begin to scream in agony when he takes too long. My body’s begging for a deep breath, but I don’t dare let go of the oxygen in my lungs.
“Like I matter.” He shrugs, and I exhale roughly, then suck in a sharp breath, filling my lungs again.
“It’s like… I don’t know how to explain it.
Like I’m the most important person in your world.
And I know that can’t be right…” Kenneth shakes his head quickly, and I want to protest. Tell him he’s right.
That’s exactly how I feel. That he truly is the most important person to me. “But it feels good to feel wanted.”
“Baby—” I whisper, reaching for him and gripping his waist with both hands.
I haul him onto my lap, and his jaw drops, but I move my hands to his face and cup his cheeks before he can get off.
Before he can reject me. Kenneth drops his forehead against mine, and my heart begins to pound when I feel his breath against my lips.
If I moved even a centimeter, I could kiss him.
“You do matter. I do want you. You’re perfect.
” He sucks in a sharp breath, and I move one hand to the back of his head and tangle my fingers in the hair on the nape of his neck.
Soft, so soft. “I just want one chance to prove to you that we’re perfect for each other. ”
Kenneth blinks rapidly, his blue eyes dilating to black pools as he stares into mine.
My breathing gets quicker, and there’s an ache I feel in my chest—something close to what I felt when I woke up in that hospital.
Similar to heartbreak. Probably because this moment could end in it.
But instead of running away, Kenneth leans in further, soft lips brushing against mine.
An almost kiss. My fingers tighten in his hair, making him gasp, and I’m just about to crash my lips to his and put myself out of my fucking misery when the doorbell rings.
Fuck.
He startles, flying off my lap, a hand to his chest. His other hand trembles at his side, and I have a feeling I fucked this all the way up.
I don’t have time to fix it, though, because he turns around and strides to his door, opening it to grab our takeout from the delivery guy.
I get up and walk to the kitchen, mostly because I need something to do.
I can’t stay seated and think about what just happened.
I’m giving him a choice. We can either eat, or I can leave.
I know what I want to do, but I also don’t want him to be uncomfortable.
I grab two plates, silverware, and then go to the fridge and stare at it in surprise.
He’s stocked up on my favorite beer, and I do the mental math to try to remember when I may have let that slip.
I haven’t drunk it around him, and he hates this beer.
So why did he get it? Did he remember us?
Did he remember something? I take a deep breath and shake my head, grab the beer and his Dr. Pepper, then go to the living room.
He’s already set up the to-go containers on the coffee table, and I place his plate in front of him as well as his drink.
Then, I sit as far as possible and make myself as comfortable as I can.
Which is impossible. I’m so fidgety it looks like fire ants are biting me all over my body. I can’t stay fucking still.
“Have you been here before?” Kenny smirks, breaking the silence. “Or did you break in?”
I stiffen. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I guess you seem to know where everything is.”
I shrug, feeling self-conscious and all too guilty. Maybe I should tone it down. “Lucky guess.”
Kenneth does something completely unexpected, making me stiffen for a brief moment.
He pushes his plate toward me and sits as close as possible, then drags his drink across the coffee table.
I force myself to relax when he looks at me expectantly, and I try to think of something to say that doesn’t make me sound as nervous as I feel.
“What made you pick this beer?” I blurt out, and when he frowns, I almost slap myself. It’s too late now, though, so I continue. “It’s my favorite.”
He smiles. “I’m not sure—something told me to. Like my subconscious made the choice for me.” He shrugs. “Guess you got lucky.”
I nod silently, my hands shaking.
“I could ask you the same thing, though,” he says softly, looking at me with raised brows. “You seemed to know exactly what to pick for me.”
Swallowing hard, I force words past my lips. “It was the obvious choice. First shelf. Clear favorite.”
That makes him chuckle. “You got it right.”
Kenneth picks up a spoon and serves us our food, shoving fried rice and steak onto my plate, pushing yum-yum sauce between us.
He also opens the container with the multiple sushi rolls and hands me a pair of chopsticks.
It’s a comfortable silence now as he picks up some sushi with his chopsticks—the shrimp tempura roll.
He surprises me, directing it to my mouth, then taps my lip, and I open up.
His free hand lands on my lap, right over mine, and I stare at him as I chew silently.
“Do you ever feel like you remember something that hasn’t happened yet?” Ken asks, and I swallow my food.
“All the time.”
“It makes me feel crazy.” He shakes his head. “I guess I have this sense of déjà vu when I’m around you. I just can’t explain it.”
“Maybe you knew me in a past life.” I try to sound nonchalant, but I’m not quite sure I manage it.
“And am I your soulmate from a past life?” It’s teasing, but I immediately nod.
“Yeah, Kenny,” I whisper, and he sucks in a sharp breath at the nickname. “I think you are.”
Kenny smiles and looks down briefly, then back up into my eyes. “I’ve been dreaming about the love of my life a lot lately. I even wrote a poem about him.”
“Should I be jealous?” I ask, my cheeks heating.
“Are you?” Ken grins.
“Yes.” I don’t even hesitate when I say it, and when Kenneth’s grin widens impossibly more, I realize it was the right thing to say.
“I like that,” he replies. “A lot.”
My face flushes hotter. “Will you read me the poem?”
His lips purse. “It’s stupid.”
“Nothing you do is stupid,” I reply, then wonder if I’m being too intense. “But if you don’t want to show me, that’s okay.”
Kenneth nods, then withdraws his hand from on top of mine and turns towards his food.
We eat in silence for a while, and though it’s peaceful, I feel tense too.
It’s hard not to wonder what he’s thinking, even more difficult not to freak the hell out over it.
After what feels like forever, Kenneth has cleared his plate.
He shoves it away from himself and turns to look at my half-full plate. He frowns.
“Do you not like it?” he asks, and I immediately shake my head.
“It’s good.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“I, um…” I exhale shakily. “I’m just scared I’m doing something wrong. I guess I’m nervous.”
Kenneth smiles at me, a real smile that reaches his eyes. He takes my hand in his and squeezes hard. “Hurry up and eat so I can read you the poem.”
Hope blooms in my chest as I nod, then shovel food faster than I ever have before.
I finish my meal within two minutes, making him throw his head back and laugh.
I should feel more self-conscious than I do, but I can’t bring myself to feel bad when he clears the table with a grin on his face, then disappears into his bedroom before he comes back with a leather notebook.
He sits next to me, turning to face me, and takes a deep breath.
And then he reads his poem to me. My breath catches in my throat at what’s so very obviously about me.
He may not remember me, but his heart does.
I can live with that.