CHAPTER SEVEN #2
“It’s been used, by some here, as a recreational drug.
On special occasions, we might have it in a drink.
But very diluted. In its powdered form, it’s—euphoric.
An—” he cleared his throat, “aphrodisiac. And for some, it creates temporary amnesia. How far back in time the memory loss goes and how long it lasts depends on the person and their tolerance. It’s strong stuff, and the effects can be unpredictable when not directed properly.
That’s why I have the only key to this room,” Louis said, looking down and patting his pocket.
When he looked up, Avery was directly in front of him.
“So, we have a bit of privacy?” Avery asked, sliding her hand onto his waist.
“Yes,” Louis answered. There was caution in his voice. But his hands heedlessly made their way up her arms to her shoulders.
Avery drew in a long breath, gathering her courage.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know if I’m even going to get to remember you, or any of this,” she said, stepping forward and pressing herself against him.
“But I know, one way or another, I’ll regret it if I don’t get a chance to express myself.
To you. And I wish I could get you to do the same. ”
Louis closed his eyes, took a breath, and pulled her into an embrace.
Avery clung to him.
“There is nothing I want more,” he said softly, “than to tell you everything you deserve to hear.” He squeezed her tightly, running his hand through her hair, breathing her in.
“There’s just so much I can’t explain. Not now.
Soon, I hope. There are other things that would be so—selfish for me to say.
You have your case to prepare for. I couldn’t live with myself if I distracted you right now, if I was the reason,” Louis trailed off.
Avery sighed into his chest and ran her hands down his back.
“I’m prepared. But my head is swimming. I wish I could clear my mind for a few minutes.
Especially since there’s just one thing I can’t seem to stop thinking about, and I’m sure if I got to do it, this court appearance would be a breeze,” she said, tracing a convincing finger down the center of his spine.
He pulled out of their embrace, crooking a finger under her chin and using his other hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Is it the same thing I’ve been thinking about since the moment you walked into that restaurant?”
Avery blushed and smiled widely. “I think it’s the thing you’re thinking about right now,” she said with a laugh, looking above his head.
Above them hung a cluster of mistletoe the size of a punchbowl.
She watched with amusement as it rapidly expanded to cover the entire ceiling.
“Though you’ve waited this long,” she mused, “I’m beginning to think you don’t even want to ki–”
Half a breath later, Louis’ hand was in her hair, his lips pressed firmly against hers before gently parting.
Warmth spread from her core to every point of contact between them.
She held him tight; his hands roved across her back possessively, pushing her suit jacket off her shoulders to the floor before helping Avery do the same for him.
Her arms were bare, and she could feel that golden shimmer pulsing off her skin. The glow was so bright she could see it through her closed eyelids.
Then she opened her eyes.
Louis’ breath shuddered as he did the same.
Her skin was indeed glowing. So was his. So were all the bottles and jars on the shelves. Bottles and jars, now unsealed, with lids and corks floating in the air above them.
The air swirling around Louis and Avery was full of the sparkling golden dust that had escaped its containers, drawn to their embrace like iron filings to a magnet.
For a moment, she thought she saw panic in his eyes.
But Avery felt nothing other than pure bliss. And oh, that scent in the air. It smelled like her grandmother’s house.
Louis said something she couldn’t hear as she took a deep, grateful breath.
Avery woke up on the floor.
She gasped and giggled when she saw Louis unconscious on the carpet next to her.
“Louiiiis! Wake uuup!” Avery sang, shaking his shoulder.
She looked around. They were in a large room lined with shelves. The shelves were full of bottles and jars containing some kind of golden glitter. Was this the arts supply closet?
Louis slowly sat up and looked around the room, and at their jackets on the floor beside them.
“What in the South Pole—?” he asked, holding his head. “What are we doing in here?”
Avery consulted the various parts of herself that were in need of urgent attention. “I think we may have been, um," Avery raised her eyebrows in implication and nodded toward their discarded blazers.
Louis blushed. “I—but why—we hardly ever come to this room. I have the only key. How did we—”
He stopped in his tracks when Avery’s hand found his knee.
“Avery…” Louis admonished.
“Louis, I feel incredible right now. Better than I ever have. I feel like I swallowed lightning. And you just said you have the only key to this room.” She slid closer to him, hand still firmly on his leg. “So, no one can interrupt us, right?”
“That’s true,” Louis admitted. He began to lean toward her, then stopped. “Wait. What is the last thing you remember?”
Avery closed the distance between them and nuzzled Louis’ neck with her nose. “Who cares?” she asked, a devilish laugh tripping across her tongue.
Louis let out a quiet, controlled breath. “Something’s peculiar. I was—” he leaned into her breath on his neck. “I was waiting for you. I was worried,” he recalled softly, his focus and resolve slipping with each word.
“I’m here now,” she said, reaching up and turning his face toward her. “And you should kiss me.”
Louis obediently slid his hand up the back of her neck, fingertips weaving into her hair, skimming along her scalp.
He leaned down, grazing the tip of his nose across her jaw line, breathing in deeply.
“I wonder,” he whispered, as his lips reached her ear, “if you taste as good as you smell.” He gathered her hair in his hand and lightly tugged, tipping her head back, planting a warm, gentle kiss just behind her ear, pressing his lips to her pounding pulse.
Avery went feral.
Grabbing him by the collar, she kissed him, hard. She tore at the buttons on his shirt like he was a gift-wrapped box on Christmas morning. Placing a hand in the center of his chest, she pressed him down to the floor.
Then Avery halted. “Hold on,” she said, Louis’ hands pausing their eager ascent at the top of her ribcage. “I’m having the strangest sense of—”
She looked up. Around the room, the lids on the jars of shimmering golden dust were unscrewing of their own accord, the bottles uncorking themselves.
“Louis!” she exclaimed, scrambling off of him. “The jars. The powder. Did we breathe that in? Are we—?”
He darted for the nearest levitating cork, hastily stuffing it back in its bottle. The other floating lids and stoppers followed suit.
“This is—not ideal,” Louis observed. “It’s okay. This is okay. It will wear off. Nothing…happened, I’m sure,” he said, sitting up straight and dusting himself off. “Breathe. Think. What’s the last thing you remember?”
Avery sat up next to Louis, the two of them leaning against a shelf.
Trying to hold on to a thought was like trying to walk uphill on an icy sidewalk.
But it was all there, just around the edges.
She’d met Santa. She’d received an impossible assignment.
She’d decided to throw in the towel. She’d gone to find Louis. She'd learned—
Gasping, she clamped a hand over her mouth. “The NDA,” she whispered. “Oh, god, Louis, no, I can’t! What if—!”
Louis wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he reassured her, kissing the top of her head.
He stroked her hair, brushing his thumb along her cheekbone.
“You are going to go into that courtroom, and you are going to do what needs to be done, and you are going to save Christmas, and you will keep all your memories. And I will be waiting for you at the end.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “I believe in you.”