Chapter 19 Noelle
19 Noelle
“I guess I should try something else today,” Cam says when we meet up at the market, “since I always have the bulgogi poutine.”
I sigh. “I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you. This is weird.”
“It’s fine, I promise. You know, I’ll just get the poutine. It’s not like I remember what it tastes like, after all.”
I smile weakly. “It might be easier if we pretend this really is our first date.”
“But surely there are conversations you’re tired of having by now. What don’t you want to talk about?”
“My career. I have a degree in mechanical engineering. I do HVAC, fire protection, stuff like that for buildings. But I haven’t bothered working in a while now, since it’s pointless when everything I do gets erased. Uh… that’s the main one. My family, my childhood, my travels, my education—I guess those are up there too. We’ve covered the basics a bunch of times.”
Yeah, there’s no way to avoid this being weird.
But Cam simply says, “Okay, got it. What are you going to eat today? Surely you haven’t tried every single food here.”
I decide to go for tteokbokki.
Food in hand, Cam regards the benches. “Is there somewhere else to eat around here? Somewhere less crowded?”
“If we wait about a minute, some space will open up.”
“But nobody looks like they’re close to finished eating.”
“Trust me.”
He does, and soon we have a seat.
“Okay,” he says as he picks up a fry. “Let’s see. What might I not have asked you before… okay. What’s the very best thing you’ve eaten? Ever. ”
“That’s an impossible question.”
“Fine. What do you do for work, Noelle?” He waggles his eyebrows, and it shouldn’t be enough to make me laugh, but it is.
I consider my answer to his previous question. “Some of the foods I’ve eaten here have been pretty amazing. The halo-halo, for example, especially the piece of flan? Delicious.” Yeah, I’ll definitely need to get that again.
But part of the reason it was so amazing? Because I ate it with him, on our very first date. The food is entwined with that precious memory.
I don’t say this out loud, even though I’ve been honest with him today.
The dumplings I ate the first time I came here were incredibly delicious as well, but that’s a more complicated memory because of what came next.
“Now I’ll ask you a career question,” he says, “but something a little different. What was the first thing you wanted to be when you grew up? When you were, like, in kindergarten, what did you want to be? I’m guessing it wasn’t a mechanical engineer.”
“I waffled between teacher—like my father—and zookeeper. What about you?”
“It was either an astronaut or clown for me. Or clown astronaut.”
“What happened?” I asked. “You flunked out of clownstronaut school?”
He laughs. “Yeah, I didn’t do well with those big shoes in zero gravity training. It was such a pity.” He releases an exaggerated sigh. “If I’d succeeded, I could be up there right now, circling the planet in a red nose and rainbow wig.”
The image makes me giggle.
“I’m guessing we’ve never had this conversation before?” he asks.
“We have not.”
“What about you? You could have been… a zeacher?”
“A zeacher?”
“A zoo-teacher. You could have taught camels the alphabet. Encouraged leopards to learn their multiplication tables. I probably asked you this before, but what does your dad teach?”
“He’s retired, but he taught high school English.”
“You could have taught Shakespeare to baboons.” Cam sits up straight and puts a hand—the one not holding the bulgogi poutine—to his chest. “To be a baboon, or not to be a baboon,” he says solemnly. “That is the question.”
“Indeed. A very important question. The question that all clownstronauts on the moon are pondering at this very second.”
“Shh. Don’t mention that. It’s a sore subject for me.”
“My apologies,” I say grandly, then turn my attention to the tteokbokki.
I keep smiling around my food. I’m here with Cam, the weather’s nice—and now that I’ve told him the truth, I’m more relaxed than usual.
He spears a piece of meat and a fry on a fork, then holds it toward me. “I bet you’ve tried it before, but try it again.”
I lean forward and eat the proffered food. “Not… bad.”
It’s hard for me to get the words out when my mouth is so close to his.
“I really wish I could remember kissing you.” He brushes his fingers over my cheek, and I nearly shiver in the warm air.
I want to sink into his touch and learn every inch of him.
“So do I.” My breath hitches, and I trail a fingertip over his jaw. Does this feel familiar to him? “We’ll make new memories soon.”
Memories that he’ll have for just a few hours before they disappear, leaving only the faintest impression behind.
The thought is bittersweet.
This time, we don’t have dessert. No, we end up away from the crowds, against a brick wall, as soon as we finish our tteokbokki and poutine.
Cam leans forward, then pulls back. “It’s odd, knowing I’ve done it before, but…”
“It’s okay.” I smile at him reassuringly. “I keep coming back for more. I keep choosing to kiss you over and over—”
His mouth crashes down on mine, and he presses me against the wall. Despite how many times we’ve kissed, often right in this very place, I squeak in surprise before I wrap my arms around him and pull him close.
“It seems impossible that I could forget this,” he murmurs.
“You kiss like you remember.”
He nips at my throat, in a way he discovered I like about a dozen days ago, and I groan. My desire to get closer to him is even stronger than usual. I paw at his clothes and finally slide my hands up his chest.
It’s still not enough.
Cam’s hand slips below the neckline of my shirt and into my bra, and I nearly see stars.
“More,” I plead. While he knows the truth, I want to experience everything I can with him. We don’t have all the time in the world; no, there’re only about six hours until he forgets again.
Frustratingly, he pulls his head back, just enough for me to see that this usually cheerful man has a decidedly wicked smile on his face. His thumb brushes over my nipple, and I gasp. I want those fingers between my legs.
And for the first time, he obliges.
He unbuttons my jeans, and I swear he’s lowering that zipper in slow motion. I’m so desperate that I can hardly stand it. At last, he slides his hand into my panties.
“I’ve never done this before?” he asks.
“No.”
One finger penetrates me. Then another.
Oh my god.
With his other hand, he slides down the top of my shirt and bra, just enough to bare one nipple to the night air. Faintly, I can hear music and laughter from the night market, but here, it’s just us. I’m wouldn’t normally want to be so exposed in public, but I’m beyond caring. Cam has his mouth on my breast, his fingers inside me, and it’s bliss. I arch against him, trying to get more. More.
I’ve wanted this for so long, from this man who gives me his number no matter what I look like, no matter what weird conversation we have about me being an heiress or stuck in a time loop…
I squirm as his fingers slide in and out, his thumb on my clit.
“Fuck. Noelle,” he says.
My nipples stiffen even more as a light breeze caresses my skin.
I wish I could come from being touched like this, but unfortunately, knowing my body, no matter how skilled he is, this won’t quite be enough.
“Do you… do you want to come home with me?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says immediately.
My body sings with joy, but I need to be sure he understands. “The next time you see me, you won’t remember. You’re okay with that?”
“It’s not ideal, but yes. Whatever tomorrow brings, I just want you… tonight.”
I nod because I’m suddenly incapable of speaking.
This is finally going to happen.
He steps back from me, and I fix my clothes. Then I pull out my phone to look at the time and discover I’ve missed some texts. My stomach drops as I start reading the desperate messages.
AVERY: I can’t do this anymore. Living the same day over and over, waking up next to Joe each morning. It’s like being trapped in a nightmare.
AVERY: Even the thought of doing it one more time… it’s unbearable.
Oh no.
My lust fading, I look up at Cam. “You know how there’s another woman in the loop?”
He nods.
“She needs me, and there’s no one else because, well…” I gesture feebly with my hands. “I have to go to her. I’m so sorry, but—”
“It’s okay. I understand.” His hand slides into my hair. “Besides, she’ll remember tomorrow, whereas I’ll forget this ever happened.” He pauses. “When do I usually say I’ll see you again?”
“You’re busy tomorrow, but you’re free on Sunday.”
“But Sunday has never come for you.”
“Correct.”
There’s a long, melancholy silence.
“I’ll see you soon,” he says softly. “Text me tomorrow to see if I remember, but if I don’t, you know how to find me, whenever you want me.”
And then he’s gone, and I hurriedly ask Avery for her address.